kuhblooey

[kuhblooey]

without realizing it, adam is smiling at peter's antics. peter's steps are wide and he keeps leaning heavily away from adam, moving in an odd sort of rhythm his stilted, jarring actions are unabashedly human, fascinatingly so. it's... endearing. adam takes on the brunt of peter's weight, feels the press of the human's ribs just beneath his own, slotted together. he ucks his chin down to press his grin into the golden brown curls already brushing against his lips, and he wraps his palm around peter's wrist. peter grips onto adam's bare arm like a lifeline and adam keeps using his hold on peter's wrist to pull him closer, silently imploring the man to keep at his side. without complaint or instruction, adam guides them away from the heart of the alien city, steers them off the path of puddles and crowds and inevitable trouble. the journey to the milano should not be a long one. for a reason he can't fully understand, adam wishes their home was just a bit farther away.

peter's hand smacks against adam's chest. incredulous, adam swings his head to the side. he takes the moment to drink in the flush rising up peter's cheeks, the glassy shine in his eyes, the crooked self-satisfied grin plastered to his face. adam has seen the rest of the crew at this level of intoxication, but rarely has peter indulged so much. after a lengthy rest, adam will check in with peter, to see if he is doing well. if he needs support. but for tonight, adam takes great care not to say anything that could upset peter's mood. he wants peter to have his fun. based on his observations from the other guardians, the lack of coordination from this level of intoxication should be pitiful, or concerning, or unattractive. adam finds no such thing: only that his companion is gloriously care-free, confident in a way that makes adam's stomach swoop. and when he speaks, he's slightly too loud, but adam is more distracted by the voice peter is using. it's not the charismatic front that he puts up when trying to charm stranger. it's... different. casual, affectionate. it's something adam only hears on occasion, in moments where peter is looking at him like he is something more than just adam warlock.

"we're walking back to the ship, peter quill." adam stops walking, unable to fully wipe the smile from his face. he encourages peter to face him with a stern tug to the arm of peter's jacket, tilts his head down to meet peter's gaze. adam has had nothing to drink, but he finds himself acting strangely, outside the realm of his usual judgement. he just wants peter to turn the full force of that smile at him, if only for a moment. "are those nice enough accommodations for you, starlord?"

6.  BABYSIT :  for one muse to help the other home while they’re drunk. /peteradam

peter doesn't know what did it. he's good about the not drinking, he's great at partying, an expert even. and the math (which he isn't good at, that much he can admit.) the world has done sideways and suddenly both his feet are left.

he clings into adam's arm, leaning into him. adam smells warm, a little bit like peter and that does something, in his brain the wires cross slightly. makes him smile, giggle. "adam." he starts, in the middle of laughter. his head on his arm. "adaaaaaam." uncoordinated hand, attempts to land on his cheek. misses completely. "oh shit. sorry, dude." his breath is taken away. he can't look at adam, not right now not directly. he feels like a chick, swooning and falling, and loosing his shit. well. that could be the alcohol talking. "where are we going baby? you takin' me somewhere nice? hmm?" peter doesn't want to be anywhere but here, so close to adam's arms.

[kuhblooey]

STRANGER IN THE ALPS SENTENCE STARTERS  —   lyrics pulled from the 2017 album by phoebe bridgers. feel free to make alterations.

i went with you up to the place you grew up in.

nothing’s changed.

you must’ve been looking for me.

something happened when you were a kid.

i didn’t know you then and i’ll never understand why it feels like i did.

all of our problems, i’m gonna solve them.

i hate you for what you did.

i miss you like a little kid.

i faked it every time.

i can hardly feel anything.

i hardly feel anything at all.

i’ll be glad that i made it out and sorry that it all went down like it did.

i guess it’s too late to change it now.

you said when you met me, you were bored.

i try to stay clean and live without.

when i think too much about it, i can’t breathe.

i don’t need you to tell me what that means. 

i don’t believe in that stuff anymore.

jesus christ, i’m so blue all the time

that’s just how i feel, always have and i always will.

we talk until we think we might just kill ourselves.

last night, i blacked out in my car.

it’s 4 a.m. again and i’m doing nothing again.

take a dirty picture, babe.

i can’t sleep and i miss your face.

tell me what you wanna do to me.

i don’t wanna be alone anymore.

i’m too tired to go to sleep.

now i can’t breathe, and i can’t sleep.

i don’t wanna be stoned anymore.

i’ve got a good feeling. it doesn’t happen very often.

do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?

that makes me feel old.

anyway, don’t be a stranger.

sometimes i think i’m a killer.

i’m pretty sure i’d miss you.

is there nothing left to do for us?

i am sick of the chase.

i know there’s something waiting for us.

i’m stupid in love and there’s nothing i can do.

i know he needs you, you’re all that he sees.

if i fix you, will you hate me?

would you fuck this and let us fall?

no, it’s not important. 

they’re just pretty words, my dear.

there is no distraction that can make me disappear.

there’s nothing that won’t remind you i will always be right here.

i’m amazed that you’re alright.

i won’t be home with you tonight.

we found our way out.

when you touch down, i’ll be waving.

you got me good; i knew you would.

i couldn’t take it any longer, and i lost control.

when she needed me, i wasn’t around.

when it mattered most, i let her down.

it’ll all work out eventually.

better off with him than here with me.

[kuhblooey]

WHY THINGS BURN          .    .    .

[  *  ]      writing prompt      )         :       below, you will find a series of various prompts from daphne gottlieb's why things burn. these can also be altered as seen fit to better suit the characters in question. content warning: the following prompts may not be suitable for everyone as they contain references to violence, blood, death, and murder.

"make sure you have everything you will need on hand." "maybe something is only yours when you can do as you please with it." "the important thing is to stay alive." "any weapon you carry can be used against you." "I'm sorry it's been so long since I've written." "you'll never hear from me again. " "they're going to kill me." "there was blood everywhere. " "I lit a match and ran out." "I got blood all over the seat but kept driving." "I have been in darkness and seen no light." "it's only a power greater than me that keeps me alive." "you realize this is it; the world is ending soon." "there's only so much any of us can take." "don't rock a boat that doesn't need you on board." "behave, or I'll cut you out." "it's hard to love someone who's full of shit." "it's hard to love something that's only important when it makes trouble." "I never meant to hurt anybody. I just hurt too much all the time." "baby, there is no god, but they'll kill you for him." "let me start again, slower." "the girl who wasn't me in your bed this morning. " "everything looks like something else." "the world gets under his skin." "whatever's coming, let it happen." "seduction isn't what it used to be." "it's inevitable. sooner or later, we break along faultlines." "would you love me if I got my hair cut?" "I go looking for your smile every night, on other faces, with other names." "some of us are loved even though we're the last to believe it." "this attention, this adoration, is something I have always longed for, something I have always wanted to belong to." "it kills me, the way the world is." "every story ends the same, in death, and every story happens here." "every daughter presumes parents." "you are the only one who ever listened to me. I can die happy in that knowledge." "the confrontation with the necessity of being saved." "none of you can prevent this." "no one speaks the universal anguish of love anymore." "my mouth is a wound, and you want to kiss me." "all power can be dangerous." "I'd just like to be friends. that's what I'd really like." "because just for a second, the world has gone away." "because it only gets uglier from here." "you want a place in my heart, but it's already full." "a woman's work is never done." "a girl never knows when she's gonna need to soak up some blood." "we only get the superheroes we imagine, never the ones we need."

[kuhblooey]

adam warlock needs less sleep than the creatures he resides with might. his fathers crafted him to require a shorter amount of time in the deepest stages of slumber, though this fact rarely stops him from inhabiting peter quill’s bed. adam often sleeps the full seven to eight hours through, without complaint, his nose buried against the base of quill’s spine. this a lazy, nonsensical indulgence, but adam finds himself fond of the practice. he enjoys beginning the day’s journey to the sound of the milano filling with life. it often starts with a metallic clang, rocket’s tinkering drifting across the enclosed capsule of the ship, then the sudden burst of sound as someone starts up music. adam is always interested in a freshly awoken peter quill, perhaps more enamored by the habits of quill than anything else he’s known, always curious to know what quip will first leave his lips that day.

tonight, though, he’d laid aside quill for too long. counting moments, heartbeats, breaths. the warmth of the sheets to the wayside, adam taking up post in front of the window. he is not particularly wakeful, his thoughts disorganized from the inclination to sleep, but something deeper in him is restless. it feels as if his synapses firing too fast, his whole body alight. in the quiet of the room, adam’s body seems unmoored. he could be as large and looming as the cosmos outside the ship, as intangible as the energy that flows through him. a voice breaks this awful reverie, and adam does not jump, but he eases back into the tactile sensations of the present. there’s a chill in the air.

"if you are compelled to rest, peter quill, then do not let me stop you." adam turns from the cool light of the window, finds the shape of peter in the dim light. flowing, curving shapes float atop his head, peter’s hair pushing up at odd angles. adam is sure in better light, he would be bedraggled, scruffy, unreasonably handsome even in such a state. how to explain the call to action that keeps him awake? he’s charged with protecting, defending, making use of the soul that was imparted upon him. do humans feel it too? the suffocating awareness that they are small, a blip in the ever expanding universe, and their mission is too big? "there is no threat. you needn’t be awake."

INSOMNIA :  for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am. /peteradam

peter's gotten used to adam just being there, in his room, where he's working, out on missions. and now apparently, since there's no other space for adam, peter's room might be the one spot where he stands out the most. and like he can't help it, there's a lack of adam warlock in close proximity and that's what partially wakes peter up. the room is pitch black, the large window that shows off part of space has a curtain on most of the time. (peter realistically can sleep through anything if he's tired enough, not tonight apparently.) he sits up, the blanket covering him bunches around his waist.

he rubs his eyes, adjusting to the light or the lack of light in the room, before he spots @kuhblooey, looking out the window. he assumes it's adam, thinks it would be fucked up if it was anyone else, the thought is fucking scary. it's enough to drag him out of himself, how tired he feels it doesn't matter right now. "adam?" he calls out, voice sounding rough. dripped in sleep still, he doesn't know what time it is, besides it just being late. and his body knows it. "what are you doing up?" he asks, a silly thing to ask, but his brain isn't there yet. "-it's like so late." in space, but that didn't make it any better. he has half a mind to tell adam to come back to bed. like if he says it, he'd be giving away something. too much. peter's almost second guessing himself everytime he's talking to adam now. things aren't what they once were and peter doesn't know what that is. "-so, so late." he shifts, one leg to the other sit to sit at the edge of the bed. thinks he might regret getting involved in this in the first place, but whatever. it's adam. (he worries about adam, as he does the rest of the crew. yeah.)

[kuhblooey]

siblings siblings siblings siblings

[kuhblooey]

have been too busy to make this blog pretty!!! but consider sending me memes!!! i reblogged some here and here. no plotting required xx

[kuhblooey]

tried drawing Elektra 🫶

[kuhblooey]

it takes her a minute to find her backbone with illyana's hand in her hair, but thankfully, her spine is still around here somewhere. seol straightens out. a hand falls to her hip, the bone jutting out, frowning as she tries to look indignant. "really. it's not always sunshine and rainbows." illyana is so cool. she's witty and fast and she carries a sword. a scary, aesthetically pleasing sword with a fancy name. seol is a little obsessed. illyana has got this energy. when she walks into a room, all eyes end up on her. or maybe, it's just seol who can't stop looking. seol wants to know what illyana's thinking about at any given moment. is her favorite color black? what was the last movie she saw? does she listen to music? has illyana ever heard one of her songs?

that one is embarrassing. illyana doesn't need to have heard her songs. seol needs to get a grip: she's luna snow, not seol hee. luna's cool too. she's sold out arenas, had songs go platinum, and she's got freaking ice powers.

"i actually do have a stalker problem." her voice drops, conspiratorial, attempting to sound serious. "she's really violent. a little scary. kinda goth." luna reaches out, manicured nails brushing against illyana's incredibly shiny pauldron, and gives a tiny push. "it's like she can't leave me alone or something."

@sordidery ft luna snow: everyone knowing your name isn't always a blessing.

"poor baby. is it hard to be a superstar?" illyana's tone drips mocking -- the fond kind, the kind she teases with. but it's not always easy to tell. she sticks her hand out to ruffle luna's black and white hair, mouth tugged up into a confident smirk. "what is it today, snowflake? too many fan letters? does your hand hurt from all the autographs?"

she likes luna, she does -- she's both pretty and useful, and she's fun to be around, all things considered. she likes the little gasp luna does sometimes, when she's in danger and illyana appears out of nowhere to block the hits with her soulsword. makes her feel cool, protective. like a fairytale knight. and she's ... sweet. but illyana doesn't do sweet. doesn't really know how.

"or -- let me guess," she continues, because none have ever said that the queen of limbo is merciful. "you have a stalker. no, two stalkers! and you need a badass, sexy bodyguard."

[kuhblooey]

started making this, had a breakdown, bon appetite to Luna lovers.

IG | blue.sky

[kuhblooey]

film ask meme : ANTIVIRAL (2012) directed by BRANDON CRONENBERG.

a selection of lines from the 2012 film antiviral. modified slightly for rp purposes.

i'll take this one.

i understand your fascination with her.

she's perfect somehow, isn't she?

her eyes seem to reach right beneath your skin.

celebrities are not people. they're group hallucinations.

the human face is a powerful messenger.

listen to what you're saying.

you're seriously buying into all this?

i'm sure the kid can shed some light on the situation.

with a whisper, she could have anything she wanted. anyone she wanted.

i've been trying to reach you.

i think my body's starting to turn on me.

i already feel like a different person.

i don't understand how this isn't considered cannibalism.

so do we have business?

did you know health tulips have solid-colored petals?

it's a weird business.

be tactful if the subject comes up.

i've never really cared for her.

the afterlife is getting extremely perverse.

this all must feel a bit personal to you.

you were one of the last people to see her alive.

do i get to know what's killing you?

do you want me to hurt myself?

i don't even think dignity's still a valid currency.

i'll admit, i was a little insulted when i found out you weren't gonna share it with me.

your clock is counting down at a manic pace. you need a friend.

now, i would love to do this properly, if you would just stop freaking out.

i think you're a lot worse than you're letting on.

don't look so worried. you're a commodity.

i'm afraid you've become involved in something sinister.

have you started bleeding yet?

i don't mind the sight of blood.

i've mostly stopped sleeping.

this is all very unlucky for you but i'm hoping we can help each other.

a belief in god, it's always struck me as a sign of dangerous infantilism.

you play the skeptic but i don't believe it.

well, now you share your death with her, and that's a powerful bond.

i need someone non-responsive to talk to and you're cheaper than my therapist.

it doesn't look like your little vacation did you much good.

i've got more of my blood here if you want it.

whatever it is you're into, it's attracted a lot of dangerous attention.

i refuse to be pulled into a crazy mess.

i've been having some trouble at work.

if it had been up to me, we would have taken better care of you.

that's a shame. we could make you excitingly famous.

[kuhblooey]

book meme : WHAT MOVES THE DEAD by T. KINGFISHER.

a selection of lines from the novel what moves the dead. modified slightly for rp purposes.

i'm delighted by obscure passions, no matter how unusual.

it's cold and poor and if you don't die from falling in a hole or starving to death, a wolf eats you.

god, but it was a depressing scene.

i am, for the most part, not an imaginative soul.

he was the gentlest of souls, though he did collect rather odd things.

i swear to you, if i had not heard his voice, i would not have recognized him.

you look like you've been dragged arse-first through hell.

you have grown into an outrageous liar.

in some ways, it's rather refreshing to be treated in the same way as a fungus.

i will tell you, this is a recent dissolution.

i think it might be enough to make anyone ill.

i do not know how to deal with this sort of death, the one that comes slow and inevitable and does not let go.

death that simply comes and settles is not a thing i have any experience with.

i knew most of them would die anyway, but if they died in front of me, it felt worse.

we were friends once. i hope we still are.

i hear things now. everything. my own heartbeat. other people's breathing sounds like thunder.

sometimes i fancy i can hear the worms in the rafters.

but this place has made me afraid.

you don't pull punches in the morning, do you?

what sins could you possibly have?

you know i'm not a superstitious soul but i swear there's something wicked here.

they say mushrooms spring up where the devil walks and where the fairies dance.

perhaps they believe that the fungus is part of them.

it's in god's hands, not mine. perhaps not even his.

are you a witch, then?

don't listen to him. the dead carry lanterns down in the deep.

this place breeds nightmares.

he complains of nightmares. says the walls breathe them out.

i begin to think that this place has killed all of us, in its time.

most of us go to the devil without him having to personally oversee things.

the dead don't walk. you of all people know that.

really, what good would it do? have you not seen enough bodies in your time? maybe it helps other people, but it's just one more face to haunt your dreams.

headache is always preferable to heartache.

perhaps this miserable place has weighed down my spirit and left me vulnerable.

they don't fear ghosts where you come from?

i don't believe the dead actually care about those things.

[name], i have come to think of you as a sensible person, but there is something quite unsavory about all this.

you don't believe in possession, of course.

the dead may walk but i will not walk among them.

this thing, whatever it is, it's what's killing you. devouring you alive.

i've been dead for at least a month.

i could never help anything that killed you.

i know exactly where i would place the match.

[kuhblooey]

@011945

it’s a breathtaking thought: what could those two possibly be getting up to that would leave a mark on a supersoldier?

nat lets herself get drawn in, her hand in his. a brief assessment of the situation: james is lit up, soaking up her attention like he may never get it again, flush working its way up to the apples of his cheeks. she can read him like a book, like the back of her hand. he’s guilty, maybe, or shy, but most importantly, he is so unabashedly happy. it’s throwing her off her game. natasha takes her time drinking him in, eyes flicking over every part of his face. she can’t stop thinking about what happened in her absence, what delicious things she missed out on. where were they? did james fold bruce into his space, just like this? did he ask to be marked, or did bruce just take? the need to kiss james is so strong and sudden it moves her, caught in some sort of gravitational pull, but then he opens his mouth, and she puts a stop to the kiss before it can happen. her lips twitch with the urge to smile.

frozen in the space between kissing him and shying away, she gives a considering hum from deep in her chest. her chin dips down, nose brushing his jaw, and then she’s so tantalizingly close to the discolored flesh. "bad manners, banner." she’s far from jealous, but james is easy to rile up, and when her thumb comes up to stroke over the hickey on james’ trapezius, it’s hard not to keep teasing. she’d once had that very thumb in bruce’s mouth and the memory alone is enough to make her lightheaded.

nat shuffles back, retracting her hand, chin jutting out proudly. all things considered, she really wants to lave her tongue over the bruise, leave a fresh one next to it. but, she’s more interested in how the distance between them is going to wear on james. "he knows how i feel about touching my things." natasha gives her james a withering once over and then she’s cocking her head like a wild animal. "anything else i ought to know about?"

is that a hickey? /natbucky

he freezes in place. takes only a second to re-adjust. bucky isn't seen by many, besides work he doesn't go outside much. his hand lands right on top of his bruised skin. fingers brush it. and bucky isn't a virgin, he doesn't blush, he doesn't get flustered but under nat's hot stare, that's a different story. bucky tries to think of the words that would best fit the situation. gets reminded of how that hickey got there in the first place.

his eyes linger. reaches for her, for her hand, enveloping her in him. soft and slow. it's inviting the hunter in. he can read nat most times but in this moment he isn't sure if his instincts are deceiving him surely, it can't be. "-yes." it's soft. quiet. adorned with half a smile. his face hot. "it would be a really weird place for a regular bruise wouldn't it?" she couldn't possibly be jealous. and if she isn't jealous then he can't feel this delightful little feeling either. settling in his chest. he's giddy.

[kuhblooey]

there are a great many traditions and rituals that have yet to be introduced to adam. the room has no chill, and he cannot fathom a reason why peter quill could not have the shirt off his back. "i do not require it." adam says, amicably, nearing cheerful. he turns around, crosses the room to peter. he will have to find a shirt of comparable material, but there is no reason to believe peter would not also need to be protected from the elements. adam knows peter to be more sensitive to touch than himself, so it stands to assume that quill may need increased protection. his skin must be thinner than adam's.

besides, he is finding himself captivated by the look of the human in his shirt. the material fits around peter differently, makes adam note just how light the man's eyes are. he may as well keep the shirt. stranger things have happened, rocket said once, and adam had been quite taken by the saying. stranger things have happened. a tanned palm smooths over the top of peter's hand easily, the men conjoined above peter's belt. adam's gaze wanders around the shared room, in search of another clothing item, but he notes that it takes a considerable amount of effort to pull his attention away from peter.

he knows, indisputably, that all languages are evolving artforms. phrases shift to better suit the needs of the speaker. adam spends a considerable amount of time in the day considering how to best wield the gifts of his tongue. his colleagues are proficient speakers in ways he certainly is not--- insults are commonplace amongst the guardian's of the galaxy and they are used with little digression. names used to refer to adam are just as easily slung at an enemy corpse. this had, at first, been a source of great contention for adam. he has since learned it is a sign of increased morale. as he has been told, many times, they are only yanking adam’s chain. still, he remains earnest as ever, endlessly tolerant of the guardian's incessant goading. "there is no need. i find it... agreeable. to see you in my attire."

you're wearing my shirt. /peteradam

peter quill's life tends to go a little faster, there's no hitting the breaks. from planet to planet, credit numbers only getting bigger. dealing with people outside of just himself and whatever poor soul decided to go home to him that night. it's gotten a whole lot of complicated. now he plays babysitter for the best people for the craziest jobs. (he won't admit how much they play babysitter for him. but that's besides the point.) in this moment, his life pushed the break pedal fast enough he's still feeling the whiplash.

but he's still human, he gets tired, he gets...curious. so let's say that it is intentional, this thing with adam warlock of all people. all beings. that it wasn't an accident or peter being real easy. then what? he's rubbing his eyes back into focus. zeroed in on the shirt he's wearing. that's the thing about uniforms, you get them mixed up. he nearly went into the common area like that. "shit, man." he smiles, looking still at the shirt before looking at adam. doing his very best trying not to recall last night's activities. and after a moment of silence their gazes meet and. the best way to describe it, it's like a movie. time froze and music played somewhere else to decorate the moment. he clears his throat. "-i can give it back if you. want it? or we can swap." smooth, quill. real smooth. he's trying not to let the idea of adam wearing any of his shirts get to him. besides it's a shirt. no one's going to notice. peter's hands on the hem of his shirt. ready to take it off, if @sordidery asked.

[kuhblooey]

temp muse list:

GHOST SPIDER / gwen stacy. 616+65.

HARLEY QUINN / harleen quinzel. hc based.

DAREDEVIL / matt murdock. 616+show.

ELEKTRA / elektra natchios. 616.

GAMBIT / remy labeau. hc based.

ROGUE / anna-marie. hc based.

BLACK WIDOW / natalia romanova/natasha romanoff. storyline intertwined with dru’s bruce banner and billy’s bucky barnes.

ADAM WARLOCK. hc based.

CATWOMAN / selina kyle. ‘the batman’ based.

JESSICA JONES. 616 based.

LUNA SNOW. hc based.

BULLSEYE / benjamin poindexter. weirdo fucking freak. hc based.

[kuhblooey]

RIPLEY’S COMIC MULTI. under construction. :D

roster. memes.

hi, i’m ripley!!! you might know me from sordidery. i’m twenty-two, live in the PST, and use she/they pronouns.

DNIs: i'm very politically left. if i don’t agree with your politics or behavior, i will hard block you. if you do not tag mentions of eating disorders, i will hard block you. if your age isn’t listed, i won’t follow back.

i’ve been an on-and-off comic reader my whole life. most characters here are an amalgamation of the comics i read when i was 15. canon exists as a baseline for much more exciting stories!

asks are the easiest way to interact with me!!! send as many as you please, from any prompt, at any time.

this blog is mutual oriented, but i am always happy to make new friends! also, my dms are open to all mutuals, for any reason whatsoever. i generally reach out to talk to new mutuals within a week of becoming mutuals.

i write in multi-paragraph format. i am not a big fan of shorter threads. you’ll find that I tend to write at least 200 words; however, you don’t need to match my length! sometimes there isn’t much to say, or you were busy, or uninspired.

i tend to use double spacing, italics, bolds, and underlining in my threads. honestly, i just like the look. i do not use icons.

i primarily write in third person, but sometimes the vibes just call for a second person moment.

the whole damn blog is NSFW. most of the characters i write here are violent and frequent situations full of gore. anything i consider to be excessive will be tagged as ‘tw gore,’ ‘tw drugs,’ etc. you can always ask me to tag anything. sexual content will simply be tagged ‘nsfw.’