#rydr--system

[the-blonde-blockbuster]

Jack Ryder was definitely one of the reporters she liked working with more than others. No microphone in her face, no waiting for her to mess up. Just respectable, easier to talk to. She could appreciate that. Kara took his hand, pulling herself up to her feet. "Thanks." She brushed herself off and assessed the damage she caused. "There's an alien who hates Superman out causing trouble. He saw the crest and decided I was good enough." She said, possibly a little to nonchalantly. The shrug didn't help that. "I'd definitely get everyone out of here, but this isn't a city wide evac guy, you know?"

cont. from [x] @the-blonde-blockbuster

Jack let out a sigh of relief when she answered, lowering his hand immediately and offering it for her to take. "Hey, it's had worse days." He dusted a bit of torn paper of of her shoulder with his other hand.

This was a Super. Kal El's cousin. Anyone who wasn't still disoriented from the initial impact would be chomping at the bit for an exclusive interview or a front page snapshot soon enough. Jack? He was focused on other things, like the front page story that had just knocked her through his newsroom.

And Creeper was thinking about helping.

"Well, what happened? Should we be evacuating, or?" he fished subtly for clues.

[sanguine-salvation]

::Verse: They of the Bay:: a melody for a love unsung @rydr--system... (x)

This bridge could never leave them alone, could it?

Their eyes widened, bright and icy blue in the shade of the evening, that same salty breeze ached in their nose. The wind caught their feathers too heavy, too fast, too desperate. Their lungs lurched in their chest and crushed at their heart as they beat their wings as fast as they could, every muscle suddenly tearing at itself to wake up faster.

Falling.

They had heard the commotion. What was the difference this time? Gotham was full of awful noises and voices, they were numb and empty to it now. And yet...

Falling. No? No, their heart ached at the sounds coming from that awful bridge. Of course. The scar on their cheek burned at even thinking about their rotten home away from home.

But they listened tonight, and the scream hit them. No, they knew that voice like a knife in the ribs. Their heart thundered in their chest on stupid, stupid animal instinct, some dumb zombie part of them that lurched out like an ugly cough.

Falling.

The flailing black shape, all arms and legs and the smell of bruises and blood, crashed into their arms and claws as they slammed him out of his impending death. WhatareyoudoingwhatareyoudoingJackwhatareyoudoingJack?

"Ngh!" They winced and grunted under their own momentum. The sound of wind and wing as the caught themself and tried to bear a new weight far too quickly, then wrapped about themself and Jack as they landed hard into the sand and stone of a small shore along the Kane Sound.

[the-blonde-blockbuster]

"can you see how many fingers i’m holding up ?" - @rydr--system (Jack, holding up three fingers)

Kryptonians were sturdy. Kara was sturdy. However, that didn't mean that getting thrown through several very dense walls wasn't a dizzying experience at times. Being invulnerable to most forms of harm didn't protect you from getting rattled like that. So, given that, trying to tell how many fingers were being help in front of her took a second longer than one might've expected. Kara blinked a couple times and shook off the debris. "Three. Sorry about..." She gestured towards the mess that she now realized was once a news room. "All this."

[greatoutdoorshop-blog]

KUHL Men’s Rydr Pant

Description

The KÜHL RYDR PANT is cut from our exclusive combed Cotton Euro Twill for tenacious, yet luxurious, style. The fabric has been slightly brushed for a softer feel, but tough durability remains.

Our FULL FIT features a full seat and thigh for a more relaxed fit. Kühl’s Born Free gusseted crotch and articulated knees allow freedom of movement, while the original yoke system and anatomically engineered fit follow your body’s natural contours for superior comfort. Double needle bar tacks add reinforcement at critical junctions, and reinforced pockets and bottom cuffs reduce wear.

Kühl’s signature cell phone pocket keeps your phone out of the way and easy to retrieve. River wash treatment creates a weathered, ‘lived-in’ look.

For the best in outdoor accessories visit us today at GreatOutdoorShop.Com!

[sanguine-salvation]

🕯️ - @rydr--system

[ send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character. - ACCEPTING ]

Why won't you see, why won't you see. It's not there, it's gone, you left it, don't you remember? I'm right here. Look at me! Can't. you. see.

'No hurting.' Stop. You're such a liar.

[sanguine-salvation]

❝ i don't know what it is about you, but, you just ... you're the only one who can make me feel like this. ❞ - @rydr--system (Jack)

[ in case you didn't know - ACCEPTING ]

The window must always be left open for them, always, always.

Viktor stared at him, silhouetted by the dark, the barest glow of the city's artificial light catching their eyes just enough to light them. Their knife was still slipped into their boot. Their hands were empty.

It was a mistake to come here. And both of them knew it. It always was. There was an old scar in their core, a longing for a blind, stupid, comfortable time that was long past. And somehow they could still pick it right open.

They didn't move as the words settled in on their ears, as Jack's form in the bedroom stayed still in front of them. Never ran. After all these years, if he feared them, he never ran. And yet, they couldn't figure why. Was it fear? Was it foolishness? Was it hope? Was it...

No.

Whatever it was, Jack admitted it freely, and something cold ached in their heart as they looked at him, remembered the last time they walked through his apartment laughing and half-past-drunk and in the front door rather than secreted in like pest.

Finally, they took the first step, sliding off the windowsill nigh silently, their silhouette lurking further away from the scant light of the window as they came closer to him instead. "Feel like what?" They smiled and the light splintered across their teeth, with a curiosity on their face that almost looked sore to be there.

"We left a lot of feelings between us, didn't we?"

[sanguine-salvation]

Jack (@rydr--system), as he sits in a chair, reading a book, pets Viktor's hair.

[ pet my muse - ACCEPTING ]

Viktor at first had held stone still, like if they even dared to move, whatever delicate balance that put them both here like this would be snapped like spidersilk. Them, sitting against the chair on the floor. Jack just calmly running his fingers over their hair, giving them little goosebumps like it was nothing as they focused on the gentle weight of his hand.

But as the seconds ticked by and Jack didn’t stop, they… eased. It all started to feel like that normal they didn’t think they could touch anymore. Not with him. So, their eyes went from wide and bright to soft and relaxed, and after a moment, they very gently leaned their head back against the petting, hoping that they were allowed that.

And yes, there was maybe a flush of pink across their cheeks, but they wouldn’t mind. Maybe, for a little bit, they could be allowed this. There was a buzziness to their smile, albeit a little dozy from the relaxation, but all so content to share in a warm silence with him. Yes, they could be allowed this, right? A bit?

[sanguine-salvation]

@rydr--system

"I might not understand what you do..."

"... but it'll never change what we have in common."

“… It never seems to change, does it? Persistent despite everything... just like you.”

[sanguine-salvation]

✿ - @rydr--system (Jack)

[ SEND “ ✿ ” FOR 2 HEADCANONS FOR OUR MUSES’ RELATIONSHIP. - ACCEPTING ]

✿

Viktor loved to cook for Jack back in the day. They'd use his spare key and come into his apartment— totally casually and with armfuls of groceries because they damned well knew he didn't stock his pantry with anything more than condiments and pancake mix— and would cook for him and get drunk with him over the night, enjoying the company of someone who they genuinely felt safe around. Part of them misses it. They've broken into his apartment a few times now, but it always hurts more than they care to acknowledge to stare at places that were once happy memories. What was once safe now makes their skin itch.

✿

Back whenever Viktor colored their own hair, Jack was ALWAYS coming along with. After he let them do it the first time, it kind of became a little ritual between them, where Viktor would steal Jack off to their place and hang out amongst bowls of bleach and dye and music. Viktor always wore their colored streaks up front, usually bright colors and utterly unafraid of expressing themself in something so simple, but Jack had to hide his from his parents, only dying the bottom of his hair and always choosing very dark colors that could be lost in his hair unless you looked for it. It's part of the reason they did it. They couldn't do much to help his bigger situation, but they'd help him in the little acts of rebellion he could afford, just to remind him that he had someone who'd always be there behind him. A little color hiding where he knew it was there.

[sanguine-salvation]

Viktor didn't retreat.

Even as Jack's words crawled over them like slimy little slugs, riling up such a frustration! How dare he. How dare he, why can't he see, he does see, all he sees is the weak sorry creature, pathetic, crawling along with nothing in them, just like before— I'm not. Stop. He knows. He sees. Why can't he see. Stop... seeing like that...

They grit their teeth and leaned forward, pulling the chains and buckles deliberately as taut as they would go, the duck cloth straining under their pressure. They glared at the guard, "I'm not done talking yet. I do get my time, don't I?" Their voice lilted into a saccharine sigh, then slowly their face creaked into a smile as the guard only narrowed his eyes. Not a new look. They knew he was only playing nice for the 'cameras', like they always did. Pretty on the outside, so pretty and clean and proper, and just as rotten inside as everything else. Things would go back to normal soon.

There was a beat of silence before once more their attentions landed sharply on Jack. And for a flicker, just a brief little moment, their frown... sank a little. The ice of their eyes melted. "... Is that what you want? To know I'm still human?" It was a bitter, cold word that meant so little. "... I am. I still bleed. Just like anyone else. But that's it." Their face shifted softer, though they didn't really feel it.

Laughter in their ears, alcohol on their tongue, the warmth of his eyes. Gone. "I bleed, I cut, I free. There's nothing else left, I have n..." they shook their head. 'It makes you human.' Makes you weak. Hurt. Crying on the hood of the car, angry and sad and broken, looking up at blurry stars through tears after they had to play pretty for his cameras all day at the church. "No. That's not what you want, is it?"

... Jack wanted something they couldn't give him. Of course. Yes, that made sense. He wanted that, not them. And if they weren't that, he wanted to leave them. Didn't he? Hurt. Hurts.

They smiled, but there was no joy. It was just this empty, tired thing full of teeth and silence on their face. If he wanted to leave, they would make it easy. "... I could give you what you need, though." Their eyes flickered to the guard slyly, knowingly. "It'd be quick, I promise. Maybe... a pen dug into your carotid artery?" They leaned their head to the side, showing off the edge of their neck peeking out from over the collar. The skin, rubbed raw from the collar and their movement, and the red enamel pen by Jack's hand the only shocks of color in the sterile blue room.

"I can feel your blood on my hands, your weight in my arms, isn't there some part of you that finally wants to just rest? Because it never stops... does it? All that pain... I've had to watch it in your eyes for so long." Their tone was strange, split, fighting over itself in eerie quiet. "... Do you think this will stop hurting after you leave this room?" Maybe. Maybe they could be forgotten so easily, just like everyone else had forgotten them before.

A splinter in the glass, their fingertips bleeding through.

Now he'd gotten something. Struck a nerve somewhere deep. He didn't budge at the sudden lurch in his direction, meeting Zsasz's eyes with a sympathetic stare. He studied them more like one would look at an injured person suffering and in pain.

That's really what it was, in the end. A suffering human being hurting others in hopes that the pain would stop some day. Maybe with enough tally marks, there would be no more space for weakness and humanity. No more of the mundane agony of dark emotions. Behind all of that self-mutilated armor was his old friend. He could see them still in there, in those icy blue eyes.

He was more concerned about the guard behind him getting worked up. The guards at Arkham were known by the press as 'GCPD rejects'. Often times they were made up of ex-police officers who had been asked to quietly step down from their rank behind the thin blue line. He gave the man a glance to try and quell that fury for a bit longer. He as on to something. Just press a little more.

"I think it makes you human." He knit his brow and sat back up straight, letting a small exhale slip past his lips. "I think there's something still left in you telling you that life has a purpose beyond death. That's the harder thing for you to accept."

[sanguine-salvation]

Where do you carry your pain?

your arms.

you have tried to hold onto what is dear to you, only for it to be wrenched from your hands...

Tagged by || @elisethetraveller (Thank youuuu!)

Tagging || @xxlordalexanderxx, @arkhmlcst, @sovereigntism, @arkhambird, @arkhamcalamity, @rydr--system, @mxchineherald, @oflostinfound, and whoever else wants to! Tag me back so I can see!

[sanguine-salvation]

Shipping and Handling (specifically for @rydr--system)

[ Send me ‘Shipping and Handling’ for romance advice regarding my muse(s)! - ACCEPTING ]

Well Jack is already most of the way there, he's still walking a tricky line of wanting to break Viktor out of their harmful and self-harmful delusions, and not wanting to make them clam up under the idea that he would only want them if they were exactly what they were. Which is a unique problem to him, given he was so close to them before and knew them. It's still a little paranoia in their head that he wants the old them and can't bear any of the new.

But if he keeps being gentle, patient, and meeting them at their level rather than talking down to them at all, he might just make more progress than he thinks. While Viktor will never be the old Viktor again, there is still a part of them that never died on that bridge, and it really wants Jack there for them.

Mind the bristles, but don't take their shit, Jack!

[sanguine-salvation]

❣ (@rydr--system)

[ attraction meme - ACCEPTING ]

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Sexual Attraction ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ | Romantic Attraction ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ | Crushing ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ | Squishing ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ | Sensual Attraction ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ | Aesthetic Attraction

Low ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ High

"Some stains never wash out, I suppose..." But they couldn't will themself to just throw it away, either...

[the-arkham-librarian]

“Hm,” the librarian thinks. There’s no way she could get her hands on actual medicine, it’s kept in the medical ward and unfortunately she doesn’t have access to that.

But, she does have something that could help.

From her desk she pulls a thermos. Unscrewing the cap, she pours some of the hot liquid into a cup. “Tea?” she holds it out to him.

@the-arkham-librarian asked:

“Are you catching a cold?” (For Jack)

[random dialogue … sentence starters pt. ? - ACCEPTING]

"It feels that way. There must be something going through the ward. I saw other patients sniffling earlier." He rubs his temple, nursing a headache from the congestion and dizzying heat. "Any way you could get me something to take care of it?"

[sanguine-salvation]

[ TOWEL ]:          the sender uses a towel to carefully dry the receiver’s hair. (for @rydr--system)

[ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒. - ACCEPTING ]

6 years ago...

He was always there, even when he didn't have to be.

Viktor was staring down at the still damp floor of the living room, their shoes kicked off clumsily to the side against the couch and their stockings muddying the shape of their legs against the dark carpet. Not that it mattered, their vision was already blurred to begin with. Their face was aching and numb at the same time. Tears, anger, and being out stupidly in the freezing cold for nearly half an hour long walk would do that.

But there was nothing left in them now. They simply stared down at the pattern on the carpet: grey, geometric, comfortingly familiar, and now sopping with rainwater. Their head hurt. Their legs hurt. Their fingers hurt. Their hands were still shaking. Their left wrist was cradled tight against their chest, faint color already having formed on the skin, as they tried to digest that the pain and fear was still there. Hurt them. He'd actually hurt them. They just wanted to get away and he hurt them. They wanted to thrash and claw and punch and scream, but there was nothing left. And the person who deserved it was not there.

The person who didn't deserve having to deal with this mess was, though.

A half-empty bottle of liquor and two glasses ticked on the glass table, and their world was suddenly clipped off at the edges by black terry cloth. "Ah—" they jumped in surprise as some hands gently began trying to dry their hair and get them warm again. Their heart thumped in their chest too hard and too fast. Oh, damn it, they felt stupidly small, swallowing hard against a sob and a hiccup. Great, there was something left in them after all and it was more crying. "I'm—"

'Before you even start, no, you're not stupid.'

They closed their mouth, a harsh flush on their cheeks as they were cut off so accurately, and they shrunk into their shoulders as their hands balled in their lap.

It helped to hear it, especially in his voice. His voice always just... made even the worst things a little more bearable. But it was hard to take that in when they had wobbled here after breaking up with the bastard who had been cheating on them for a fucking year without them knowing. Their finger still ached from how hard they had torn their ring off. There was an ugly red scrape on the knuckle that they couldn't stop looking at.

"I..." They swallowed, gritting their teeth to keep a straight face. "Jack, I don't know what to do..."

[the-blonde-blockbuster]

✔ - @rydr--system (Creeper)

My muse(s):

Do I know your muse(s):  yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse

Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other

Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship

Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protecter - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other (the justice league's destructive duo)

I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other

Feel free to: message me ooc | message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - let’s find common interests!