#SURVIVALL

[lastblues]

@survivall / jordan riley.

          WORKING WITH JORDAN IS ALMOST AGONIZING.  that word implies that there's something bad about it, and there is, but it's not because of anything jordan has done. she's pleasant, she's talkative, she's hard working. she's probably the best coworker he's had thus far who isn't his mom. the problem is that dodge, who had just gotten really comfortable at the diner, no longer knows how to act. somehow, even through the permeating smell of diner that clings to his clothes hours after he's left, he can catch the sweet scent of vanilla as she walks by. every time it happens dodge feels like an android whose wiring short circuits for a moment and he forgets what he's saying or what he's about to do. he's a little more comfortable with jordan there now that she's a few weeks in, able to recover quickly when being too close to her causes him to falter, but he still can't quite feel normal around her. he's not sure how he's supposed to. she's got the prettiest smile he's ever seen.

          it's a wednesday night and the diner is dead. the last people to come in were the shaws, a very picture-perfect family with a dad, a mom, a son, and a daughter, at 6:30. as perfect as their lives seemed, dodge knew better than to assume what went on behind closed doors. they ate dinner, had pleasant conversation, left jordan a $20 tip, and were on their way by 7:30. it's 8:17 now as dodge glances at the clock on the wall, and he lets out a bored sigh. if all he does is stand here, leaning on the bar, thinking... he's going to go insane. despite the tight feeling he gets in his chest when he tries to speak to jordan, he decides to try anyway.

          "so..." he starts, eyes moving from the clock to jordan, "are you going to play panic?" it's the first time he's ever brought it up to her, but they obviously both know about the game. they both put a dollar into the pot when ray comes around shaking everyone down for it; he's seen her do it. they're not supposed to talk about it, but no one is there to overhear them.

[slash-aaa]

JORDAN RILEY: DISTANCE. ACROSS A LARGE SPACE, SENDER BLOWS RECEIVER A KISS. appearances. it's the second most important thing ray has, following only the fear his appearance puts into people's hearts. in the depths of the inferno lounge, ray sits at a table with several men he's done business with, either currently, or in the past. spread across their table is a game of poker, low key but high stakes, which ray is currently winning. a bottle of expensive vodka sits on ice in a bucket just in front of them, and small mirror dusted in white is set aside in favor of playing their hands. eyes glance up, gaze stretching over the expanse of his dynasty, settling heavily on the songbird that is already looking at him. as her hand lips, moving from her painted lips to blow ray a kiss, he grins - more like a snarl, lip curling around the cigar that hangs there. the man plays his royal flush, the other men groaning as they lose their precious money, but his eyes remain on jordan. cigar is removed and she is beckoned toward them, smoke twirling with the movement of his fingers. she will come. she has no other choice. @survivall.

[yllowpages]

INT. CAGE MANSION — NIGHT...

He hovers over her, the weight of his own body sinking into his wrists while he looks down. His brows are lifted and his eyes somehow have this surprised, almost innocent gleam to them ( even if what they might be about to do is ... anything but ) . All he asked was ' are you sure? ' and it's like her actual confirmation caught him off-guard ( takes a lot to catch Johnny Cage like that ) . It doesn't matter that it's what he was hoping he'd hear — for a while now, too ( it's like he's back in middle school : ' She likes me back! ' ) . Actually hearing it ... Well, pinch him.

In fact, he's going to double check. He exhales and, with it, one corner of his mouth lifts up into a smile ( flashing some of those pearly-whites, naturally ) . But that only lasts a second or two before he looks earnest, even cautious, again : ❝ I really do mean it : if you want to stop, you just say the word and — ❞ ( When was the last time he had butterflies in his stomach like this? ) She doesn't even give him the time to finish.

❝ Johnny. I want this. ❞

( The words every boy is dying to hear. ) Holy shit. ( There go those butterflies flutter again. ) His eyes move over every inch of her face and that little smile she has really makes his heart pound a few times. He'd tell anyone : he always thought Jordan was a damn smokeshow, ever since that chemistry reading. But looking at her now ... Fuck, it was just different. ( She is ... whew. ) Everything in him, every part of Johnny's body ( use your imagination ) , is cursing him out telling him to kiss her again and to not stop there. And he'll get to that, but give him these four seconds to just ... take her in.

— Alright, now it's time to get this show on the road. As much as he could stay there, admiring her, he's not about to deny them both a night of doing ... nothing PG. ( Not a chance. ) He already has her lipstick color across his own lips, his cheeks, his jawline, his neck — with no signs of that being the final destination. ( And he's not going to deny himself the chance to show her how much he wants this, wants to just ... be here with her. ) So he carefully lowers himself down onto one elbow, their bodies pressing into each other more flush. His other hand comes up to cradle her head. A few fingers weave into her hair.

❝ Well — ❞ he finally says with a smirk, his voice low. He's inching his face closer and closer to hers, his gaze flicking down from her eyes to her lips now. ❝ Whatever the lady wants. ❞ Johnny lets his lips brush against hers ( he's still smiling ) but avoids the kiss that she's anticipating. Instead he press his lips just underneath her jawline ( the fucking tease ) .

— FADE TO BLACK.

@survivall

[wasdeviant]

the others gawk a bit as markus brings jordan through the dimness of jericho's vessel. they all knew of the actress, the first ever android to be cast as a lead in movies and television meant for humans. there had been a lot of backlash, though if audiences weren't made privvy to the fact that she was an android, they wouldn't have been able to tell, at all. markus leads her forward, glancing at the people of jericho, silently urging them not to make a spectacle of jordan - regardless of what she was made for or where she came from, she was one of them ; android, deviant. and she deserved safety and peace just as much as the rest of them. 'how did you find us?' markus asks when they're in a quiet part of the ship, alone together. he gives her an encouraging grin. 'were you told about jericho, or did you follow the symbols? that's how i got here,' @survivall / sc.

[mctives]

@survivall // spotify wrapped starter

this time // donna missal

"Sometimes, I just gotta change my name and drive out to someplace new, y'know? No direction, just go." Stu grins, playing the role he's been playing ever since he woke up in the hospital back in Woodsboro. Billy dead, the sole killer, and Stu one of his victims who narrowly survived being stabbed five times. "I don't guess you'd know anything about that."

[solomage-a]

@survivall asked: ‘it’s like you’re in a competition with yourself over picking the worst time to say something.’

“—Excuse me?” Dark eyebrows knit together with indignation and he shoots up from his seat on the makeshift cot, lean frame towering over her.

It’s hard to say exactly whose fault it is that they’ve ended up in a small, dingy cell. Neither of them have the best record with the law, and it’s so easy to get carried away when temptation looms. He’s content to call it a wash, but if she’s looking to pick a fight, well—that, he’ll indulge. Any excuse to air his grievances with the siren is a welcome one.

“I am extremely gods dammed charming, thank you very much! Everyone loves me!" He throws his hand wide, his expression heated. "Except you, because you were apparently birthed from the same fey pit that spawned such crowd favorites as redcaps, darklings, and hags. Which, by the way, I’d say you really missed your calling, there. Perhaps you should consider a career change, seeing as you’ve got such a talent for screwing people over.”

Tension needles through him as he paces ineffectually, footsteps carrying him from one end of the cell to the other too quickly. The one silver lining to their current circumstances is the fact that their captors don’t seem to have realized he’s a mage. That, or they don’t have the typical mage restraints. Nasty, uncomfortable devices, those are—with thick bindings to immobilize the hands as well as a gag to prevent the use of verbal casting. As it is, even without his spellbook, he’s got a few tricks up his sleeve—at least enough to get them out of this mess.

Besides... he needs full use of his tongue so he can continue berating her.

“And another thing—” he turns back toward her suddenly, jabbing a finger in her direction. “It isn’t as though you’re some kind of paragon of tact, you know. You think you can just go anywhere and do anything you want, take anything you want—”

[mistrial]

❝ there are better hills to die on but i find this one quite comfortable. ❞

@survivall / jordan riley. ★ meme.

         THEY'RE OUTSIDE ON THE BALCONY OF OWEN'S DORM.  he's leaned over the railing on his arms, smoking a cigarette and occasionally flicking the ashes out into the wind to be carried away above the heads of other students. they've been sharing unpopular opinions with each other--- harry styles isn't hot, imagine dragons can only write one song, etc--- and until now it had been very lighthearted and more or less the opinions were agreed upon. this one, though, the one that jordan concludes is a comfortable hill to die on, is one that owen finds to be dangerous. when she finishes her statement he drops his cigarette unceremoniously into the ashtray on the small table beside him and spins to face her to back her into his room, shutting the door with his foot.

          "---you can't just say things like that outside where anyone could hear you, jordan," he tells her seriously, and then the left side of his mouth twitches upward toward becoming a barely contained smile. "you can't just say taylor swift is FINE. you could be assassinated. and then who would i talk to?"

[huntedvideo]

incoming case... you have a conspiracy theory? @survivall.

'don't sound so surprised,' finley is aware that, to any normal person, he would sound clinically insane. but despite jordan teasing him ( and teasing him often ) fin is aware that she's going to hear him out, anyway. she's known him long enough to see that what he does is real. or at least, real enough. long finger taps his computer screen before turning laptop fully towards the woman. hunter is unfaltering in his stance, scrolling down the article he had found online and stopping on a specific line of words. 'aliens,' fin says, simple as that. 'actually, i think it's some other monster trying to get people to believe it's aliens. beat that, fox mulder,'

[forebodes]

ㅤbuildings fall to ruin, one by one. tiled floors crack and give way, wallpapers peeling like stripped skin. the once bustling tourist town's been abandoned for some time now, with only foolhardy teenagers daring to enter its desolate streets and looming, decrepit architecture.

ㅤit wasn't her first choice in assignments, but at least it came with some decent, if not slightly somber, nostalgia. years ago, she used to come here with her parents to visit the shops and spend an afternoon at the amusement park, enjoy the luxuries that an even smaller town like brahms couldn't offer. it almost hurts to see such a beloved place become a ghost town.

ㅤpatrolling the foggy, ash - covered streets is simultaneously relaxing and unnerving, the dead silence and sense of complete isolation sinking deep into the very marrow of her bones. her precinct had lost contact with the town's police, and now, here she was, entrusted with the task of finding out why.

ㅤat least, that's what she'd been counting on. after a fateful encounter with a man named harry, she'd devoted herself to helping him find his missing daughter. her memories afterwards are... fuzzy. they'd gotten separated, and then — what? she hadn't been able to find him anywhere. what she did find was a young woman, a few years younger than herself, hopelessly lost. they'd barely exchanged names before the town began to warp around them, forcing them to take shelter from the monsters permeating the fog within one of the old buildings, its rusted, dilapidated interior barely illuminated by the flickering lights above.

@survivall : ' there's a lot i don't understand. '

ㅤthat's an understatement if cybil ever heard one. still, she nods and offers a reassuring smile that more closely resembles a grimace. " you can say that again, " she mutters good-naturedly, brushing the dust and grime from the door handle off her gloves. another person to help. another person to save. " i don't even know where to start. just... don't think i'm crazy once i do. "

[everrot]

she glances up from her notes, scattered in perfect orientation along the kitchen table. ❝  why are you apologizing? you live here too,  ❞ paris' tone is nonchalant, gathering her studies to make space for @survivall to sit comfortably. rather than pry just yet, paris gestures over her shoulder, ❝  coffee? i just brewed a pot.  ❞

sorry, i thought everyone was already asleep.

[lastblues]

stop going easy on me. // also to art

@survivall / jordan riley. ★ meme.

          STOP GOING EASY ON ME.  the words coil themselves around his ankle and jerk, dragging him right back to stanford, back to hitting a tennis ball to tashi wearing a knee brace. what, you scared you're gonna hurt me? pussy. he thinks about how that was a defining moment for him, how he wanted so badly to keep from hurting tashi that he decided that he would do whatever she needed him to do. if going easy on her hurt her more than the physical pain of her knee injury did, he would stop going easy on her. that really might have been one of the last times tashi had to ask him for something like that, had to ask him to adjust his actions for her sake. from that point on he just did his best to pay attention to her needs and take care of them. it really had been detrimental to the both of them, he realizes, that decision to be anything tashi needed him to be. he lost himself and she was never given the chance to mourn her tennis career. she was as hard on him as she would have been on herself. 

          art snaps back to the present and he's pulling a tennis ball from the pocket of his shorts and twirling his racket in his right hand. his eyes meet jordan's and what he sees isn't the anger that he'd seen in tashi's face when she said the same thing to him fifteen years ago; he sees a smile. his own lips pull upward on one side and he replies, "okay, okay. if you think you can handle it, i'll stop going easy on you."

          training her for this film has been fun. his last couple of matches had been fun, but he'd still retired, still didn't want to play tennis professionally. he had to admit though that he'd missed it. he missed all of it. the feeling of the racket in his hand, the sound it made when it hit the ball, everything. art bounces the ball a few times, catches it, and places it in the center of the racket. his eyes flick up to jordan's again, a quick check to see if she's ready, and then he serves. 

[slash-aaa]

despite having gotten away with ( what he considered ) the massacre of the century, stu still wasn't completely satisfied. he visited billy once a month in prison, the two talking cryptically about what would come next, the boy encaged helping the boy with freedom to make plans for their next attack ( they were still partners - stu wasn't going to drop billy just because he got put away for the crimes they committed together ). stu already has a target, but it wasn't the right time to strike. instead, the lanky man rushes across the college campus, draping a heavy arm over jordan riley's shoulders, his smile friendly and scarily genuine as he gazes down at her. 'late night, riley?' stu's voice is cheeky as he walks beside her, glancing around the bright court yard. 'is little miss perfect hungover, or did you stay up late studying for your nerdy shakespeare focus group?' he grows faux serious for a moment. 'theater is so unsexy,' @survivall.

[tartt9]

maybe it’s time to take a leap of faith .

On the pitch, Jamie is as brave as can be. He's unafraid to face down a defender, or two, or three, on his own. He relishes the opportunity to go one-on-one with a keeper, to line up and look him in the eye and still get the ball past him and into the net. But off the pitch, Jamie is significantly more cowardly. "What... sort of leap of faith were you thinking, then...?" He's not about to take any risks that could leave him worse off than he is right now. He's quite happy with his life. "I mean, if it's a leap of faith for you, yeah, go for it. I'm all for leaping and faith."

@survivall // from here !

[yllowpages]

He likes her bed. It's comfy. Maybe not as cushy as his own way-too-expensive mattress, but it's cozy. Of course, it helps that it has her in it right now. ( Any bed's a pretty fucking fantastic bed if he's lying in it with Jordan ... and they're both naked. ) She's curled into his side, skin on skin, and he can feel that she's still coming down a bit from their physical high — just like he is. Johnny's sliding his finger tips back and forth in the curve of her waist.

His chest rises in a deep inhale and then falls slowly back down with the exhale. He lets his eyes slip closed for a second. They already agreed they should order something in, maybe watch a movie, have a lazy night in ... so he's not planning on sleeping just yet. But he'll take this : just the two of them, lying there and breathing together. It's Jordan who breaks the silence in the next few seconds, though, musing :

❝ I never planned to have you on my mind this often. ❞

Oh. Something in her words really hits him in the middle of his chest ( that's ... where the heart is, Johnny ) . Anyone might think he'd let something like that go straight to his head — and maybe he does — then never think about it again. Maybe that's even what he thought of himself a little bit. But the sincerity of her voice gets to him ; he's even caught off-guard for a brief second. His smile starts soft ... but he can't help but turn it into something more playful.

❝ Really? ❞ He says it with the lilt of a light chuckle. He feels her lift her head off of his chest and look him in the face. ❝ 'Cause that was my plan. ❞ When she does, Johnny combs his fingers through the hair, then slipping his hand behind his head and smiling at her ( that smug grin of his would be annoying if he hadn't somehow perfected its charming nature ) . Naturally, she rolls her eyes at him — something he's come to expect ( and kind of love ) . His other hand is wrapped around her waist still, pulling her ever-so-slightly closer. But he quickly readjusts himself to crane forward and press another kiss to her lips. This will keep going for a few beats until ... Stella starts scratching at the bedroom door.

It distracts them both, the kiss breaking. Jordan lets herself fall back against the pillow. Johnny props himself up on his elbows, looking at the door while Stella whines on the other side. ❝ Here, ❞ he says, turning toward Jordan, ❝ I can run her downstairs and let her out. ❞ His body comes over hers, his elbow and palm pressing into the mattress on either side of her, and he kisses her again. This time, it's softer, a little more chaste even ( never thought Johnny Cage and the word ' chaste ' could end up in the same scenario ) . ❝ You can hop in the shower, ❞ he adds when the kiss breaks. His hand pats her on the hip lightly as he pushes away from her and out of the bed to get dressed. ( Now to face the inevitable side-eyes from her neighbors ... )

@survivall

[solomage-a]

use me as an arm rest and see what happens >:|

sorry that sounds like a you problem

[mistrial]

❝ i know i need help but i'm not quite ready to ask for it. ❞

@survivall / jordan riley. ★ meme.

          HE'S WORRIED ABOUT HER.  anyone would be. jordan has gone from being the most vibrant person owen knows to being the shadow that person casts. it's not like she's done so without incredibly good reason. truthfully if she went through the massacre and came out the other side of it the same person she was before, he'd still be worried. probably more so. as worried as he is, he doesn't want to push her to talk about it; forcing someone through processing a traumatic event does no good in helping them heal from it. he does, however, want her to know that she can talk to him about it. he can't possibly understand, but he's here. 

          "that's okay," he tells her, scooting along the edge of the bed until his leg touches hers and he can wrap one long arm around her to pull her in against his side. "you don't have to say anything. we can just sit here if you want." his cheek rests atop her head and he's silent for a beat. "or... we could watch america's next top model."