#tahitiwoke

[russiasredguardian]

[withbeasts]

@tahitiwoke, x.

he's gotten very good at taking in the information around him. if everything is a lesson, then he'll take those things to heart, using and implementing them in ways that his handler would one day regret.

" when you say asset, " he asks, book open in front of him, " does it mean me? "

[rejectory]

@tahitiwoke *

“trash is right.”

you heard him.

[vitalphenomena]

@tahitiwoke // x

"Contrary to popular belief, or perhaps just your belief, my employer is not an attack dog to be commanded and directed as you fucking please." He's not a monster, not an animal. Elsie makes this point perhaps too ardently.

"Perhaps our timelines aren't lining up, and given that, this is the best you're going to get."

[halechief]

I shoot a lot of people.

@tahitiwoke who knows from whence.

"not as many as you'd like these days, i'm sure." it's an offer more than a statement, she knows, and less of a wink from him than it might be from anyone else. rarely does it escape claire's attention that there is sincerity even in the most exaggerated of his veiled threats --- i shoot a lot of people, he says. say the word, is what he means. it's harder than it looks to tuck away the part of her that feels just a little bit powerful for knowing it, but she does the best she can. ( it's only a little smile, and with it she dutifully ignores that they are not joking, not really, not if they needed not to be -- but having grown up in church pews, claire knows when not to boast her faith, and now is not the time. )

"unfortunately, i don't think you'll be breaking that streak anytime soon." to her credit, she doesn't let it come across too teasing, half convinced in her own right that it really is a shame. "still," it spreads, then, that little smile, and her head weighs slightly to the side as she looks him over. "i appreciate the dedication."

[newsworth]

chris: if you were in an accident, i wouldn’t stop for beer.  phil: i’d hope not.  chris: i wouldn’t stop for red lights. 

@tahitiwoke

[brutlist]

and there but for the grace of god went phil coulson , somewhere between the third or fourth mile heugh had trotted past ; he'd lost track . it's an old jogging route he hadn't touched in some time --- it's good to keep things in a rotation . the laugh that shoves off from his chest nicks his teeth as he steadies his staggered stride , flirting dimples . " nuh uh pal --- you gotta find a different block . this one's mine . " @tahitiwoke // starter

[vitalphenomena]

DMITRI STUDIES THE LITTLE RED DOT UNTIL IT DISAPPEARS. He studies his (larger, wider) shoes.

"That really would've been a mess," Dmitri mutters, and aside from the decreased volume, he sounds Exactly Like Phil had sounded.

Phil searches in the darkness like there's anything to find. Dmitri steps aside before Phil crosses towards the door, increasing the space between them as much as possible without passing the point of absurdity.

Costco. Kepitalist pig. Dmitri scoffs.

"You've made your fucking point." He is known.

He is known!

And, desperate for the last word: "Enjoy the junkies in the alley and the shitty little American families you are so intent on defending. It's clearly served you well. Such a great man!"

and as if a switch has been flipped, phil grins, claps his hands together and shrugs. "wonderful! i'm glad we got that all straightened out, because boy, that really would've been a mess."

he looks around as if he's a guest searching for his keys and then deciding he does, in fact, have everything he needs. he sidesteps the space of dmitri in the direction of the door and stops half a step into moving.

"by the way, not for nothing, this place smells like low tide. i'd hire a cleaner or a maid, y'know, like once a week type of thing? bergamot is great for lingering odours, i think costco does a bulk deal thing on fresheners. just a tip. oh, and your butter went out of date like a week ago."

[krylenko]

@tahitiwoke

[romanva]

it only goes as far as we need it to. @tahitiwoke

scenes from a marriage (2021) / plantain, anna akhmatova / scenes from a marriage (2021) / black bear (2020) / naomi and ely's no kiss list, david levithan / altered carbon (2018) / transit (2018) / around town, the kooks / darling, zach bryan / the americans (2013) / isaac grünewald / night, ferdinand hodler / the americans (2013)

[withbeasts]

❛ i love you, but i do not have time for this, alright? ❜

&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫.

like everything else in phil coulson's life, love was just another weapon that he had learned to utilize.

roman bragin is too young to realize this. a child turned teenager turned into an adult -- eighteen years old -- he was beginning to fall into the stage of question. it was no longer the easy ones. these complicated, heavy things brought forth to the one person who usually gave him the truth were difficult to answer. ( shield did not want any un-wavering loyalties. not during a time where others where pointing fingers, looking for someone to blame. )

phil coulson knows this. roman bragin does not; at least, not yet.

" -- i love you too. " if love was a weapon, it was his favorite to use with his father, despite the hurt. " but you're being an asshole. you're supposed to tell me the truth. you used to be honest with me. "

[fakedsciences-a]

@tahitiwoke @ruinaa​ @withbeasts​

Juniper and Phil approach the restaurant from one side; Roman and Josephine approach from the other.

“Jo! Hi!”

Juniper runs up to Josephine and envelops her in a tight hug. She wants Phil to see that they’re close, that she does actually have friends. All she ever talks about is work and her online courses, (really, all she ever does is listen to Phil; she's a good listener) and all they ever do is spend time together (a scattered burst of dates in a quick timeframe; to Juniper, it’s a whirlwind romance) — she wants him to see that she’s normal, sociable.

Juniper offers Roman a smile and a wave, hesitant to hug him — unsure if they’re there yet. He has always just been Josephine’s partner; they haven’t had the chance to form a separate friendship. Maybe this is why she cannot read the expression on Roman’s face, why she is still so absolutely elated when she turns around to face Phil and make introductions.

“I’m so glad everyone could come. I feel like, um — I feel so weird, introducing everyone. Can you all just say hi, say your name, or something?”

She looks around expectantly, the only smiling face.

[vitalphenomena]

@tahitiwoke // x

"Oh, yeah, that must have been real, real fuckin' hard for you," he drawls out—not sympathetic, the voice of a man who does not give a fuck.

"Nobody will tell me what I did. What, ah, I allegedly did. And the coffee smells like shit; you can have mine."

[brutlist]

     "     𝐧𝐨 𝐧𝐨 , 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 .     "     he says as he settles back .     “     i wanna see how long it takes for you to come up with something .      “ 

@tahitiwoke​ // sc

[mknbrd]

Five times + cameras (CCTV. Polaroids. Phone etc)

one.

the ct machine they'd rigged up is loud. bobbi doesn't mind it — it drowns out her thoughts, the guilt, the wave of nausea rolling over her every time she looks at him for too long. she'd insisted upon it, because sure, she had the maps, the scans, the surgery plans, all of it, but she refuses to trust it any more than she has to.

she doesn't watch his face over the monitor. she really can't bring herself to do it. she'd helped put him here, and, at best, there's a not-insubstantial chance that she'll kill him on the table, too — fifteen point five percent chance of mortality in cases of emergency neurosurgery, she'd told natasha, and that had been in cases where the people performing surgeries had trained for that kind of thing. bobbi had taught herself over the course of weeks on cadavers, and youtube videos, and anything else she'd been able to get her hands on.

the computer beeps at her when the scans start to pull up on her screen, and yeah, if they pull this off, bobbi'll consider putting in for the lottery. she blinks at the scans over her coffee, once, twice, and then turns her head to watch the bed slide out. he's too still. she keeps waiting for him to roll off the bed and ask her to wear adult shoes to work, or ask to see her tits, or whatever. not this. this isn't right.

but then, the ct machine isn't making noise anymore, and the wave of guilt-related nausea comes back, and bobbi turns her whole body away from the setup to puke into a trash can.

two.

natasha is driving, and bobbi's grin is a little sex-drunken when she picks up the phone to dial. " hi phillip, i need you to pull the cctv footage from the saks fifth in midtown, discreetly — . . . because i asked nicely . . . when the video footage of your wife getting fingered in a luxury stores goes live on the nightly news, you'll really only have yourself to blame that you didn't grab it and take it home for yourself . . . that's what i thought. goodbye, phillip. "

three.

he tells her that she went too early over comms — agent nineteen, what the fuck was that ? — and bobbi rolls her eyes back into her skull as she wipes up her bloody nose and steps over a body. " don't tell me i was the only one to catch the height on that bag swinging, boss, " bobbi says, bending down on her heels to reach for the duffel in question. " we got bad intel. whole deal was a setup. " she doesn't need to open it to know it's empty, but she does it anyways, just for the satisfaction of being able to show the camera hidden in her eye glasses that it is. sure, she's a bit of a cowboy, bit of a wild card. a blunt force object, as she's been termed. but reckless — stupid ? hardly.

" am i done here ? " bobbi asks when she gets to her feet, hands scrubbed down the tops of her aching thighs. " these heels are killing me, and i'm fucking starving. "

there's a long sigh down her earpiece — yeah. we'll figure this out tomorrow — and by the time she gets back to her hotel room, there's room service and a bottle of tylenol waiting for her inside.

four.

you're late, he says, like she's not well aware of the time. bobbi rolls her eyes, mutters something along the lines of is there nothing you can do on your own ? and drops into the nearest chair like either one of them is really going to pay more attention than necessary in a meeting full of department heads and secretaries that hate them.

" what, you want a doctor's note ? " bobbi asks sarcastically, to which the corner of phil's mouth twitches. she can't help appointments running long, nor is she going to apologize for the twenty minute puke fest she'd had between the ob's office and the capitol. instead, she reaches into her pocket, pulls out a pair of sonogram scans and passes them both over the corner of the table. " before i forget, your wife said you have to put one on the fridge and make sure one gets into her office. "

five.

he's stopped pouting as much when she puts him through the ct machine. maybe it's because he's resigned himself to the fact that it's happening whether he likes it or not — she'd shouted at him once, i'm not a fucking neurosurgeon phil, excuse me for being careful, and that had put an end to that argument — maybe it's because he likes her better after several months of back-and-forth awkward bonding. whatever it is, she's fine with it, just waits until he lays himself down — she's proud, even though she won't say it — and calmly runs the machine.

and the x-rays come up as usual, and the guilt's subsided a bit. bobbi hits the button that rolls the bed out from the machine and waits for the scans to show up. they do, like clockwork, and they look better than what she'd have otherwise expected. still, bobbi leans over the microphone, and tells him bad news — his broca's area has shrunk to make room for his massive fucking ego — and he flips her off from the side of the bed, and they both grin at each other.

[romanva]

why did you wish me milder ?  would you have me false to my nature ?  rather say I play the man I am.      for @tahitiwoke