#mementomorimthrfckr

[getinthefunvee]

@mementomorimthrfckr || what are we even calling this tho?

“This isn’t what I thought you meant when you said adult entertainment,” Tony forced himself to drawl as Russo topped up his glass.

“They’re topless, aren’t they?” Russo quipped back, and Tony had to tip an invisible hat in acknowledgement that yes, there was indeed a notable lack of shirts. Billy leaned back in the velvet-lined VIP booth and Tony followed his lead, propping his shoes up on the coffee table in an approximation of carelessness. They were both doing an excellent job in feigning disinterest, and Tony wondered whether there was a risk inherent in the knowledge that each was deeply aware the other had his own agenda.

Then again, as long as his agenda was obscured by enough layers of bullshit, Tony was willing to concede that his acting skills had nothing on Russo’s.

The crowd let out another roar as one of the fighters slammed into the chain-link fence that made up part of the ring. The man’s face was a mess of blood and rage, and Tony pointedly took a long drag of the single-malt Japanese whisky.

“I think I prefer the other club, if I’m being honest.” He knew why Russo had brought him here, but he wasn’t going to spoil the big reveal for him; he needed to keep him on side until Russo got sloppy enough to let slip which regime, precisely, was his latest client. He’d made a big show of throwing money around. Tony knew Russo wanted something from him, but what Tony wanted was information. If he could find out who’d bought Russo’s services, he could figure out who was still holding on to the one missile stockpile he hadn’t been able to silently reacquire.

“Can’t limit yourself like that, Tony. You need to try new things sometimes.” Russo played with his glass, not really drinking until Tony sloshed more whisky over the ice. Whatever this was, he was looking forward to it; there was an intensity in his dark eyes and Tony was fairly positive that whatever he was looking forward to wasn’t going to be anything good. “You want to make a friendly wager?”

Tony huffed out an irritated-sounding laugh.

“You want me to bet on which meathead is going to beat the crap out of which other meathead?”

Russo laughed, too, but it was a dry, ugly noise. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as the ring was cleared and a big, heavily tattooed man stepped in; the crowd clearly liked him.

“That’s the reigning champion. 6′4″, straight out of a Siberian gulag. Mean motherfucker.” The fighter paced the ring, arms over his head, amping up the crowd. Russo nudged Tony’s arm with his elbow as a much smaller man entered the ring. He was built solid but looked too lean, something starved and feral about the way he hung close to the shadows. “Think this guy stands a chance?”

Tony was fairly certain he didn’t like where this was going, but he groaned his disinterest and pulled out a stack of bills, throwing the cash onto the coffee table. The smaller man was still hovering near the edge of the ring,his face obscured by a dark, hooded sweatshirt, but now the bigger fighter saw him and they started to circle each other. There was an unexpected glint of metal.

Is that a fucking collar?

“I’m going to regret it but, nah. My money’s on the human mountain.”

Russo laughed and threw his own stack of bills down, then knocked back his drink.

“Watch and learn,” Russo whispered, his eyes locked on the men in the ring, and Tony was no longer entirely certain Russo was talking to him.

[lelelego]

Good grief I love your work. 💀🖤

thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :””””) 

[benevolentgodloki]

It wasn’t the sort of place for an ordinary civilian. It might once have tried to be a growing district but cruel and greedy shadows consumed the disadvantaged and choked them into submission. Few innocents remained, keeping their heads low while lawlessness ran rife. This town might have begged for some sort of dark knight but it was in the wrong universe.

Justice was long overdue but there was not enough here to draw the notice of the shining heroes from the cities, too far out for many of those who needed to protect their own suburbs.

Earth, however, had become so much smaller. After the Incident; after London; after machines in the sky; after half the population became dust and were made anew. The gods had come to roost and make their treaties, made their settlement at the northern edge of Europe. Too far to be of concern to a place like this, right?

Gunfire burst its horrific punctuation throughout the apartment block. This might not have been unusual, but for the sheer volume of noise. Something moved systematically through the complex, taking each room one by one. Bullets did not stop it. Where families huddled or children cried it left them unscathed. Little mercy however for those that chose to attack. Bodies littered the passages and the outside pavements, the odd live one hurled from a high window. Those who had once thrived in chaos had invoked the wrath of its agent.

Halfway up the block, the god of mischief heard the screeching of vehicles arriving. He smirked and made his way out to a balcony, taking in the view of scrambling gunmen.

“How many insects do I have to crush before I see a queen?” he murmured. “Ah well, I suppose I shall have to have some fun.” His hands began to glow.

@mementomorimthrfckr

[araedi]

[ @mementomorimthrfckr liked for a smol starter!]

He could see, quite clearly, that the mortal was in a rough state – whether or not he was of a mind to accept help was another matter. For the moment Thor elected to keep his distance more out of respect than true caution, head tilted to regard the bloodied man with open curiosity. “I think you have something on your face.”

[redwhiteandbruised]

mementomorimthrfckr replied to your post: What is the best treat to give him when he's...

Damn straight.

“Not since at least the 30s.”

[gloriousxdarkness]

starter for @mementomorimthrfckr

     “Let’s see how you fight, hm?” Elektra wore a half-smile, buzzing a little with excitement. She loved to spar. “Without the guns.” A small jab at him before it began. Elektra swung her arms back in a quick stretch, muscles already loose and warm. She’d lured him up to an empty roof under the pretense of an enemy, but it was just the amusement of seeing his face when he realized. A look on her face said what do you say? Friendly competition, perhaps, but there was an edge in her Cheshire smile. She wanted to win, and guessed that she would.

[shieldrevive]

USER :// @mementomorimthrfckr private string { plotted_starter.doc } ; closed

          Frank Sinatra was playing softly in the background but it was barely white noise against the images flowing on to the paper.  He was sketching on his small kitchen table.  Not his usual architectural fare.  In fact, Steve was doing a number of stream of consciousness lines that he hadn’t done since his grandfather first started teaching him how to sketch.  His heart was broken.  Guilt weighed even more heavily on his shoulders than it ever had.  For the second time in his life he managed to fail someone incredibly close to his heart.

         When news broke that Frank Castle was dead it was like being punched in the chest.  Steve couldn’t breathe. He’d failed that entire family just like he’d done Bucky.  As hard as he tried, the soldier was having a hard time shoving the emotions down into the darkness as he’d always done.  At least in the solitude of his own apartment he didn’t have to worry about being a burden.

         The last thing Steve expected was to hear the doorbell ring.  He had half a mind to pretend like no one was home and continue on with his evening.  In the end, he set his mechanical pencil down on the table.  A tired sigh huffs out of his throat.  if he ignored it and it was a neighbor in need of assistance Steve would feel even worse.

           What he saw stole his breath.  Steve could feel his stomach drop straight to the floor.  “ Frank? “

[burnoutspider]

“--okay, can’t we just agree to disagree?” peter was exhausted trying to argue morality with frank castle and his hard core black-and-white, all-or-nothing attitude. but stalling him was the better alternative to giving away and letting him go torture lowlives who were supposed to be brought to justice in the relatively N O R M A L way. “besides, I caught them first so deal with it. who the hell gave you my address anyway?”

@mementomorimthrfckr poked the belly!

[elegyofpower]

"So you're the big bad of the cosmos, huh?" Frank sniffed and eyed Thanos. "You're definitely big - I'll give you as much."

“–yes, I am. very observant of you.” thanos remarked, towering over the man known as the ‘punisher’. interesting character, however too driven by personal revenge to have any potential as an instrument of the greater good. besides, bad was a matter of opinion. “I think we both know that there are higher powers that transcend the basic constructs of good and bad. when it comes to the universe, there are only chaos and necessity.

[woundedblackbird]

⛓

Going against Rawlins had been a monumental mistake. It had taken a lot to push him to this decision, of course. Billy had endured months of snide comments, of backhanded compliments and veiled threats. He had kept his mouth shut about the dirty dealings in Kandahar, had stopped himself from intervening on Frank’s behalf... all for the money. All that mattered was the money, because money wouldn’t leave. He needed it, to become someone of significance. Everyone left him in the end... everyone, but money.

When it transpired Frank had survived the attack, Billy had been quietly relieved. Too cowardly to visit him, though, in the knowledge he had played a part in the deaths of Maria, Lisa... Frank Jr. So he’d kept his distance, tracking the Punisher trial almost obsessively... until Frank’s second death.

He’d visited his grave every month at first, with Curtis. They made a pact together, to go on the anniversary of his death, and on his birthday each year.

And Billy had gone back to the life he’d worked so hard for.

***

The knowledge of Frank’s resurrection had shaken Billy to the core, snapped him out of the comfortable life and lies he had fallen into. That knowledge, combined with months of biting back retorts, of following the orders of a man he inherently did not like... was almost enough. It was when he was ordered to finish the job that he turned on Rawlins. There was no way he’d go directly up against Frank, how could he? The man had only ever been a friend.

Unfortunately, where Frank had always (surprisingly,) been the better tactical mind of the two of them, Billy had always been a tad more impulsive. Rather than bide his time, wait for an opportune moment... Billy had lashed out in the moment, and found himself woefully outgunned, and out-manned.

***

Which had led to his current predicament.

Bound with rope to a metal chair, all he felt was agony. His wrists were tied behind his back with cable ties, zipped as tight as they would go, cutting into the skin. He’d been stripped down to his boxers, and the bared skin was mottled with cuts and bruises. His hair hung limp and drenched in sweat over his face, and each breath was ragged and painful. Head hanging low, he was barely aware of his surroundings. All he knew was that he was waiting for Frank. Bait, according to Rawlins, but Billy privately doubted Frank would fall for it.

Never in his life had he wanted to see Frank less.

[getinthefunvee]

@mementomorimthrfckr || this type of behavior causes indigestion.

POWER DINNERS roll into two general takes on the same nonsense.  Version A: skyscraper, dramatic floor to ceiling windows, too many layers of tablecloth, excessive drapery, marble, brass, waiters in waistcoats.  Version B: exposed brickwork, raw wood flooring, ironically iconic moustaches, bare lightbulbs, steel girders, factory chic, denim shirts.  Both feature overpriced and generally unimpressive bar menus, tweezered starters, mains served with at least three kinds of foam, and deconstructed desserts.

This time he was stuck in a Hell’s Kitchen popup, doing his best to avoid hitting the drinks hard, utterly uninterested in the merger deal that his erstwhile Belgian dining partner was suggesting.  Tony could have spared the guy a flight, but he got the impression that hopping a private jet to NYC to have dinner with Tony Stark was more about bragging rights than any real hope of victory.

When it became difficult to keep the eye-rolling internal, Tony excused himself.  Maybe Happy could extricate him via a back exit; there was a convenient alley right behind the building.  Or maybe he’d just quietly escape through one of the massive metal air ducts that he was 80% convinced were just there for the aesthetic.

The bathrooms were down a spiral stairwell and in a dimly-lit part of the basement used for storage.  Tony scrolled through a few emails, pushing open the door to the men’s room with his ass, and then slowly looked up from the screen as a gurgling noise permeated his annoyance.

“...uh.”

[theamazingcaptdeadpool]

𝐶 𝐻 𝐴 𝑅 𝐴 𝐶 𝑇 𝐸 𝑅   𝑆 𝑇 𝑈 𝐷 𝑌  

                 𝑇𝑅𝐴𝐼𝑇𝑆 & 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐼𝐶𝑆

                                 repost  &  tag  away !  

                                 BOLD all that applies to your muse.                               italicized  -  applicable in some verses.

(  Wade Wilson.   )

• eyes:   blue (comics) | green | brown (ryan reynolds) | hazel | gray | gray-blue | other • hair:   blond (comics) | sandy | brown | black | auburn | ginger | grey / white | multi-color | other • body type:   skinny | slender | slim | built | curvy | athletic | average | muscular | pudgy | overweight • skin:   pale | light | fair | freckled | tan | olive | medium | dark | discolored | scarred • gender:   male | female | trans | cis | agender | demigender | genderfluid | other | doesn’t like labels | don’t have any definite headcanon either way • sexuality:   heterosexual | homosexual | bisexual | pansexual | asexual | demisexual | other  | doesn’t like labels • romantic orientation:   homoromantic | heteroromantic | biromantic | panromantic | aromantic |demiromantic | unsure | doesn’t like labels

• species:   human | undead | shapeshifter | demon | angel | witch | ghost | incubus / succubus | werewolf | alien | mutant | android • education:   high school | college | university | master’s degree | PhD | M.D. |  • i’ve been:  in love | hurt | ill | mentally abused | bullied | physically abused | tortured | brainwashed | shot

• positive traits:  affectionate | adventurous | athletic | brave | careful | charming | confident | creative | cunning | determined | forgiving | generous | honest | humorous | intelligent | loyal | modest | patient | selfless | polite | down-to-earth | diligent | romantic | moral | fun-loving | charismatic | calm • negative traits: aggressive | argumentative | bossy | cynical | envious | shy | fearful | greedy | gullible | jealous | impatient | impulsive | cocky | reckless | insecure | irresponsible | mistrustful | overly dramatic | paranoid | possessive | sarcastic | self-conscious | selfish | swears | unstable | clumsy | rebellious | emotional | vengeful | anxious | self-sabotaging | moody | peevish | angry | pessimistic | slacker | thin skinned

• living situation:   lives alone | lives with parent(s) / guardian | lives with significant other | lives with a friend | drifter | homeless | lives with children | other • parents/guardian:   mother | father | adoptive | foster | grandmother | grandfather | deceased • sibling(s): sister(s) | brother (s) | none | other • relationship:   single | crushing | dating | engaged | married | separated | it’s complicated

• i have a(n):   learning disorder | personality disorder | mental disorder | anxiety disorder | sleep disorder | eating disorder | behavioral disorder | substance-related disorder | PTSD | mental disability | physical disability

• things i’ve done before:   had alcohol | smoked | stolen | done drugs | self-harmed | starved | had sex | had a threesome | had a one-night stand | gotten into a fist fight | gone to hospital | gone to jail | used a fake ID | played hooky | gone to a rave | killed someone | had someone try to kill them

TAGGED BY: @mementomorimthrfckr TAGGING: @araedi @benevolentgodloki @bamfxblue @captainassofamerica @deceitful-gxd @geniusbillionairephilanthropist @gloriousxdarkness @graveycrdshift @hollowdevil @playingcosmic [And anyone else who wants to do it... Tag us back though, if you stole it from here!]

[benevolentgodloki]

A distinct chill went through him as he hurried down the street. Frank shuddered and let out a breath, then watched as it turned to mist before him. He frowned at the air, but didn't have time to dwell on it. He rounded the corner and came to an abrupt stop. A blue creature, seemingly out of control. Frank drew his gun and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. His eyes narrowed. Damn it if he didn't know the guy. "It's alright," he spoke softly, and put the gun back in the holster.

My muse’s powers are out of control. Send “It’s okay” for your muse to try to calm them down

Loki cast his burning red gaze upon Frank, his arms outstretched but aimed slightly downward. He wore an expression of desperate distress, trying to keep both powers and emotions in check. The street was covered in snow, an icy wind blustering his coat tails and hair. He could feel the frost shivering beneath his fingertips, the jotun rage that came with it.

“Castle,” he pleaded. “Don’t come closer. I’ve been bewitched. I cannot control it. I – I didn’t mean to hurt them. Please.. help me.”

Behind him there were several unfortunate frozen figures. There was also a car-shaped snowdrift in the middle of the road.

[jigsawedblackbird]

What’s Your Hogwarts House Percentage?

You Are 42% Slytherin, 26% Ravenclaw, 26% Gryffindor, and 6% Hufflepuff!

Your Slytherin ambition combined with a typically Ravenclaw-esque thirst for wisdom means you are destined to go far in life. People often consider you to be aloof and unapproachable – and they may actually be right – as your passion for knowledge and success far outweighs your need for close relationships. For you, true friendships are rare, but you are smart enough to hold onto those you deem worthy of your affection. Your slight compatibility with Gryffindor house hints at an underlying desire for adventure that may manifest itself in a love of travel or trying new things.

Tagged by: @mementomorimthrfckr Tagging: - 

[redwhiteandbruised]

missing piece -> cloud.

rest prompts || accepting.

Rooftops weren’t meant for comfortable rest, but long-term stakeouts meant patience, and patience meant making do. Frank had rolled his jacket up into a bolster, draped the sleeve over his face, and was out cold in minutes while James took first watch. There was an ease to it, to the blind trust that fighting back-to-back got you, no matter what you saw each other do when pressed.

His hands itched for a cigarette, the sensory memory almost too strong. Instead he checked and re-checked his ammo for the fifteenth time.

Two hours later, Castle grunted awake, or half-way there, and only the shallowness of his breathing in the moments preceding it had kept James from leaping out of his skin. 

“Simmer down, marine,” he said quietly, keeping his voice low. “Ain’t nothin’ up here to fight. You got three hours of shut-eye left.”

Maybe it was the tone, or maybe it was the lack of intrusive contact; Frank settled back down and, after a few minutes, his breathing evened out again. James doubted he’d remember it in the morning.

[gloriousxdarkness]

cont’d from (x) for @mementomorimthrfckr

Frank looked into her eyes and scoffed at that comment. He could see how the cowl was drenched in blood, but he wouldn’t yank it off her face. Sure, he might be tough - but that didn’t equal no manners. They’d been fighting on the same side; she’d gotten hurt, the least he could do was make sure she was okay. Her eyes were intense; dark, alluring… Reminded him of someone he’d known well.

“Yeah,” Frank breathed at her ‘It’s fine’, his thumb went under her chin, fingers brushing against her jaw as he tilted her head up against he light. “Tough chick, huh?” he murmured dryly. A hint of a smile crossed his features.

“You fight well.” he praised her, as he ripped off a piece of his sleeve, folded it and held it up towards her face. He motioned with the cloth, he wanted to press it towards the wound - but wouldn’t do it unless he let her.

“Want me to drop you off at a hospital? I’d offer to patch you up but my stitch work…” he let the words trail off and shrugged, as he expected her to go with the first option, despite having wanted to hide her identity. 

Her lips pulled back slightly, a half-snarl as his prodding fingers angled her face. Being this close to another person usually meant she was about to fight them, and the same pricks of adrenaline coursed through her heart and into her bloodstream. They were weak, though, compared to the delicious rush minutes prior against a real enemy. They were easy to clamp down on with the knowledge that Frank was, for now, friend and not foe.

Still, she kept a sai in hand, in case he tried anything funny. A touch of amusement flitted into her glance as he echoed her sentiment back to her, the approval in the compliment pleasantly sweet.

She tried to relax as he inspected her face. It couldn’t be too bad, if he was lightening up. His comment on her fighting skills elicited a somewhat blank reaction, as if he’d said You can’t see the stars in New York, or Glass is made from sand. Elektra angled her face to allow him to put pressure on her wound. “And you have many guns.” She was being a little funny, though her voice played it straight as an arrow.

His hand felt large on her face, as if he could squeeze and snap her neck in a moment if he wished. He was a tall, barrel-chested man. It was impossible not to notice the brute strength he possessed up close, the clipped military energy he exhumed. An intense gaze in his face, though she didn’t stop looking. She had a feeling if she tried to push him it would be like putting her hands to a brick wall.

Elektra’s lips twitched into a smile and she almost laughed at the idea of a hospital, even as she winced slightly from the wound stinging. He had to be kidding. “I’ll do it myself, once I have a mirror,” she said dismissively, her voice quiet because it didn’t need to travel far to reach him. She wasn’t used to having a partner to talk to in the aftermath. “Can’t possibly let some second-day intern turn me into Frankenstein, can I?” The scar on her neck, the scar on her leg, those were one thing. Having a facial scar would raise questions and cause problems she couldn’t avoid by hiding it. As shallow as it seemed, she needed her face.