#VALORSWORN

[rejectory]

the overconfidence rubs him wrong equally to the clichéd romcom lines. down in the workshop, it’d be a different silence, meaning on his very own. he would just turn his back.

they’re not suddenly exclusive, so—- deal with what exactly? the expectations steve himself has set without running anything by him? this is what he meant. just like all times.

apollo here is so blood-boilingly good-looking it is science, way ahead of its time and thus timeless, but the fact-checking is being pulled from tony’s RAM only, as his perspective is being held hostage. his eyes dim.

his viewing turns geometric on steve’s bone structure; strokes no-contact to steve’s chestful, then up again, guilty as charged.

wanting steve to sit down or else sit him down a peg to see what will happen, tony palms his ice cube tray midriff (appalling), sliding a thumb into the marbled gutter cutting apart of steve’s thigh.

Been colder.

Mind over matter. He’ll stay like this all night if it means he doesn’t have to walk away.

“ It’s fine, Tony. ”

A name is a name is a vessel, empty until it’s not. A language all its own, four-letter alphabet. After tonight, he’s starkly aware he can never go back.

Screw it.

Movement slow but certain, he swings one leg over, straddles Tony with practiced control. Doesn’t lower himself. Just hovers, knees braced on either side, one hand steady on the headboard, the other finding its way beneath Tony’s chin, coaxing up until their eyes lock. Current under his skin, every time, and that’s not going back in the box anytime soon either. You feel that?

“ If this is it after tonight, I’ll deal. ” Somehow. “ But I’m willing to bet it isn’t. ”

Gimme a chance.

[archcr]

@valorsworn says ❛ you could’ve used the door. ❜

“ REALLY ? YOU OF ALL PEOPLE ? ” his look complete with the curiously amused head tilt says it all while he ducks through the low window frame . pot , kettle , now formerly introduced . at least Clint has the decency to use the fire escape and then the window at the top . hole in the wall pre - made and left there on purpose .

Steve bulldozes through bricks . used to anyways .

two years since the snap and he doesn’t know what’s left or right anymore ; perception of time and space utterly fucked , thank you very much . how long has it been since they’ve last seen each other ? three months ?

“ you look exhausted . ”

no better than Clint himself probably , but someone has to say it . Steve’s solving the mystery of the Infinity Stones . Clint busies himself with law enforcement when law doesn’t actually exist anymore . because sitting around simply isn’t something he can do .

bridging the space between them is easy though . four steps through the half - furnished apartment used as a safe house and he reaches out to pull Steve into a hug . sturdy and real in a messed up reality .

[trustrage]

"Hey, wanna have a rousing discussion about truth, honor, patriotism? God bless America!"

@valorsworn bc he won't leave me. aaha

[rejectory]

it’s too late to be ‘un’knowingly cruising for that particular ego stroke, especially when, would you voyeur this, steve’s angle is pants-down trampy. easy on the whoredom, it’s not even nine in the morning.

but he’s the team’s narcissist. come again, and for the last time.

’ all these hot chicks—- ‘

yarn over splinters is how he goes, audibly.

’ i kept having to blow off—- ‘

he lets the grains of the picture set where there’s skirt-chasing happening, except by skirts and he’s the one being chased, wanting steve jealous. some pit-stops for his sore eyes include the comely bump on steve’s nose, his green-creamed bottom lip.

his adam’s apple.

’ because i had someone waiting for me back home. told ‘em. wouldn’t believe me. might’ve been the language barrier. ‘

hand on heart and not because it coincides with the cleavage, six months ago he wouldn’t have believed him, either.

’ so, you tell me. ‘

“ You got it. ”

Full tank and everything. The worst of the depletion is starting to taper off, sharp edges buffed down with every bite he takes. Medley of favorites. He did notice. 

It’s not Monday yet. 

“ You never said. ”

Dream-like, even though the images crystallize if he spends more than a few passing seconds on them, hues of blue, childhood constellations, Tony’s voice more a vibration against his back than sound traveling. Daylight feels like the same stage, different set pieces, fixtures. Still them. Fewer places to hide, maybe. Rigging’s working a little harder, overtime.

He’s fine on his own. Been fine, been on his own, since the State decreed he was. Figure it out, son. He did. He has. Few cuts along the way, but he’s still standing, skin unblemished. Except now when the key turns in the lock and he crosses the threshold, someone’s listening when he makes himself known.

“ Switzerland. ”

What about it was so disappointing, huh?

[imbricare]

@valorsworn / cont.

"An accord?" Light-tongued and black-amused and golden-haired, this wild-eyed daughter of a man who was half a man eclipsed by her own need to make up for it. "You would speak to me in a thinly veiled threat and mark it the sign of a gentleman's parlance?"

"You forget, sir, that I, too, am a subject of the crown. Much like yourself. Sir." All too much, careful now. Sometimes it was difficult to navigate, this heady current that pulled her towards Guthrie's Daughter one moment and Flint's Champion in the next.

(And sometimes, in the doldrums, she would do anything to escape the quietude of here: herself.)

Was it the merchant's daughter who saw an opportunity then, or was it the pirate king's cupbearer?

"You are seeking the one they call the @trickstercaptain. His ship is not docked here. I cannot tell you where he is because I do not know." It was a frustrating kind of truth – because it was so simple it was bound to be taken for a lie.

She liked to think it was all Eleanor next.

"But I do know who might be able to tell you. Someone who, conveniently, would benefit from the purview of your obstruction." Between the lines, Commodore. Between the lines was where the treasure was marked. This was the trail he wished for; here, she was handing it to him. "Are you by chance familiar with the name of Charles Vane, sir?"

[trickstercaptain]

@valorsworn sent a meme: "Do you always flirt with danger, or is this just for me?" ( & the last one from jawn !! )

       “ I thought your name was John. ” An easy, if somewhat cheeky, smile was thrown over his shoulder, and Jack once again turned back to the current subject of his attention: the two ID cards he'd just pulled out of his pocket. They were both in the heart of the city's financial district, with John's only two instructions for the day being meet at Canary Wharf tube station and a smart ish dress code, please, love. One could easily infer from that that this was indeed a date — and, in a way, it was. Just not the usual wining and dining that his new boyfriend was usually so fond of suggesting when their texting conversations inevitably circled back around to when do I get to see you again.

       “ You did ask me to pick the date spot this time, so yes, of course it's for you. ” An easy scam — one that wasn't too elaborate, or too close to the true danger he was trying to unearth within this sprawling city. A con for beginners. “ And Killian has already kindly filled you in on what I do for a living, so I figured you might enjoy playing a leading role today. ”

       Jack handed the first ID card in his hand to John, the tall skyscraper that was their destination still several minutes walk away. “ City traders. This'll get us to the trading floor of the building. Once we're there, we swap to these — ” The next ID card had John's photo on it along with the job title of IT support. They could probably have both done with a pair of glasses to make them look the part better, but given that this was meant to be spontaneous, Jack hadn't had the chance to ponder costumes. “ — so that we get access to one of the computers. I'm assured that the device in my hand will do what it needs to do and allow me to reel in my true mark, who you'll meet later. ”

[gothiings]

@valorsworn

The day had been rather slow. She did her homework, read a few chapters of her novel while occasionally glancing at the tv. The channel was almost always on MTV as her dad preferred it. Most of the videos she had seen handfuls of times, and at this point she had learned to tune it out, letting it fade into the background like white noise.

There had been something on the news awhile back that people were still talking about. Apparently they found a man, the man otherwise known as Captain America, frozen in ice and he was still alive despite being frozen for forty-two years. She was semi- familiar with him. Hell, who wasn't? And they were both New Yorkers after all. They had actually covered him a bit in one of her history classes.

Her eyes gazed down back at her novel, blissfully engaged in the pages until someone quietly brought her back to earth. A man wearing a cap that was lowered enough to obscure some of his features but not entirely. Tall, blond (judging by the hairs of his eyebrows), blue eyed and muscular. He looked oddly familiar but she didn't feel like pressing him.

"Welcome to the Outlander, do you have a reservation?"

[immobiliter]

spice world john sure was something, huh

IS SPICE WORLD JOHN OUT TO KILL ME AND MY MUSES TODAY, MICHELLE. IS HE

[asgardianhammer]

( @valorsworn continued from here. )

[ ϟ ]— Rooftop is cool beneath his palms when thunderer leans back, the stars above appearing both distant and familiar at once. There is a peace here that does not demand anything, just breath, and at times silence, and the comfort of exchanging thoughts.

' Leads,' and the word is echoed with a murmur, tasting it like it is foreign, and it has not been uttered in a dozen strategy meetings already. ' You Midgardians chase ghosts with open hands and expect progress. ' Tone is void from any judgement, a touch of awe even audible in it. Mortals held onto hope often, bruised and scraped and weary, and it stirs something old and aching in the Asgardian. Recognition, familiarity, perhaps both.

A faint nod is given before the god glances to the side, expression open and the weight of centuries momentarily set aside.

' I will stay. Not because the trail is promising, we both know it is highly unlikely. Because I want to. For the first time in a long time I am finding myself grounded to something that matters.'

And here a smile cracks open, sudden and lop-sided, a shrug with but one shoulder preceding the bemused huff.

' Besides, we could use some practice, in my humble opinion. That last combination we attempted was.. atrocious.'

[rejectory]

’ shut your face. ‘

because it’s to die for. tony wants him. from every angle on every surface, hospitable to anatomical dynamism or not, he’ll make it work. he kisses in, between states of matter, liquid, steamy.

steve’s ruining him for coherent thought. who slipped him the cheat sheet? did it get heisted out of tony’s many-walled vault while he was dozing?

he pets like it’s steve’s other cheek he’s copping instead, spiced pink way up there on his face: thanks for the coffee first thing in the morning, last at night, thanks for catching me, he gives the plug a double lovetap, for holding the door. fireworks in... this direction? he presses it in, mouth slack. being the luckiest man still alive has to come with caveats in invisible ink that’ll catch light when he thinks he’s in the clear.

steve’s jeans squeeze up the goods so shapely it’s as good as seeing them.

’ do i get to unwrap the rest of my present in my room? ‘

if steve can waddle like this. he’ll watch from the back per OSHA.

Steve’s eyebrow quirks up, echoes, post-gasp rolling down his lower lip at the barely-there nudge. What, like he wasn’t gonna stack the deck in his favor tonight? Present company knows him better than that by now. Probably knows that particular less than savory character trait better than anyone, all Rogers, man behind the wall behind the poster.

Scout motto, and so on. Nothing more satisfying than taking something previously mocked and flipping it on its head, and really, Tony gets to reap the benefits anyway. Longest evening of his life ; he did say. Uber ride over nearly undid him.

“ Yeah, ” he answers low, nothing but gravel, eyes ink well blue where they watch Tony with calm clarity, touch of telltale color high on his cheekbones, “ I’m pretty sure. ”

A mental salute to tactical foresight in the service of self-interest. He could lie to himself, say it’s simple generosity for his… for Tony. But the selfish pursuit of pleasure is most effectively ( addictively ) reached through the other, and that’s why it works. Why they work. Tightropes everywhere. There’s an idea. One atta time. This one took its own sweet time to click into place. As it were. Now that they’re here, Steve can’t really think of why it took so long. Doesn’t matter. 

Hands braced against the wall, boxed in, he bumps their noses together, watches, rolls his hips forward, cock brushing up against Tony’s hip and, there, fingertip bumping again and son of a– The barest shift lights him up, raw and bright behind his eyes. 

“ Happy birthday, Tony. ”

[mercysought]

from here by @valorsworn

Maxima watches this curious man, allowing the smoke to rise from both the thin rolled cigarette between indicator and middle finger and her mouth. His gaze wanders and hers remains rooted on his form as his mind wanders; were she a spiritual woman instead of one that used those same threads to tether herself to this land, she would advise him against him. He would not be the first to look for something in the horizon that had lead him to Nassau, not the first to get lost and never have their mind return, not fully.

Perhaps he needed more wine.

   "From experience, the opportunity to mourn such things is only afforded to a very narrow section of people." she offers, shifting her weight on her seat, placing the cigarette down and opening the bottle of cheap italian wine she had been drinking before her meeting with him. She grabs his, filling it until a finger from the top, then pushing it in his direction.

She had never been the type of person that could have afforded such concerns; how could she mourn something she never had?

She knew who he was. Give or take. It had not been dreadfully difficult to find such things when they escaped a sinking man in a glass. There were always eyes. There were always ears, and in Nassau, all sorrows would eventually lead to her - to transform sorrows into treasure was a sort of miracle and fortune too.

At his request, Maxima gives him a thin smiled through the redness of lips. Brow arched as she finishes filling her own cup, pulling it close to her chest as she leans back on her chair.

   "You hardly need me for that, dearest." she hums, placing the cigarette back over her mouth. Sighing through her nose, she silently curses the humidity in the air and the sweat she felt build up beneath her neck "If you need a dock master, against my better judgement, I can offer you a name which will not demand half of what I charge for my services."

But surely, that had been the first thing he had done; after all, people often only learnt of her name and her services if they ran out completely of any other options. And that, that was not something common in Nassau - for all its flaws, Nassau was still the richest ground when it came to opportunity she had ever come across. Enough to grow roots, enough to not want to tear them out completely.

Tilting her head, the curled hair falls softly over her shoulder. There was a reason, however, why no dock master hadn't been able to help. Why James Norrington, of all people, was in her office "Why this ship in particular?"

[archcr]

REAL CONVERSATION , HE SAYS . find me , he says . if @valorsworn had thought that to be some kind of challenge or deterrent , he might have to put that star - spangled thinking cap on again . two and a half days of either being stuck on a jet or in some dingy motel room waiting for something to move have provided him with plenty of time to build up some curiosity . the two - word explanation still hasn't convinced him , so - arthritis ? phone too small for these America - encompassing hands ? and what's with that insultingly pointed emphasis on earnesty ? ice looked solid but cracked and now their Captain suffers from trust issues ? bad glacier .

it's what happens when a bored mind runs at a hundred miles an hour but unfortunately only in circles .

the moment the jet sets down again and he's out , he follows Steve's orders . . . and finds him . tucked away in a corner of the common room , working through something on a tablet , apparently . nevermind that they're nearing two at night and he feels the time difference spreading through every aching bone . Clint looks fine at least . like someone who has not gotten into a fight , but really kept it at recon only , as promised .

with a half - smile , he sets a cup of coffee down in front of Steve .

" mission update . recon successfully completed . touch - down at HQ at one - twenty-four . no trace of any scepter , the pings came from an AIM cell just outside Kaunas where some idiots were messing around with leftover Chitauri tech . "

he cants his head to the side , all doe - eyed innocence . " am I getting my blackboard now ? "

[trustrage]

"there's nothing to talk about."

—  sentence starters  :  labyrinth

"Oh, but I believe there is." His smile was wicked and his forehead formed beads of sweat. There were dark circles under his eyes, not just from lack of sleep but from harm inflicted upon him. He rose from his seat and slightly stumbled but recovered quickly. A blink and you miss it moment.

"Are you not curious Rogers? Or do you do simply as you are told, trusting in the authorities above you without question?" There was nothing but the glass separating them and a circle began to form from fogged breath. "Stark is wise to cast doubt on an intelligence organization fearing the very thing it claims to behold." He had heard them moments ago, bickering though vaguely. It wasn't enough to make out all the details but enough to know they were in conflict with one another. Some points were made more clearly than others.

"It begs the question; why have you come here if you do not wish to hold conversation?"

[imbricare]

( leto @ jessica ) : may death claim me first.

The first time he says it they're at the end of the pier and she has seaweed in her hair.

Of all the water abundant on Caladan, it is the sea that the Atreides hold sacred: the salt that cleanses, the bounty that sustains, the waves that push and pull the moon. The sea into which the dukes of old have tossed their ducal signet and sent their women to dive after it. So, the first time he says it: pride and love and an oath they keep like a secret. It's on that pier, drenched and shivering and with his ring in her palm, that Jessica decides she will give him a son.

The second time he says it, their son is six months old and almost died.

The tapestry in their sitting room catches on fire. The only reason Jessica is with Paul first is because she was abed in the adjacent chamber; but it is Leto who carries the boy out, who doesn't untangle from Jessica's hand for a second. He roars with ash in his lungs louder than the bull that claimed his father not too long ago.

The third time he says it, Paul is fifteen and shipped off world in secret.

Chaumurky in a bottle of Caladan wine meant for the duke's private chambers. He rages, her duke; she hasn't seen him in such a state since the fire. He rages, vows twice the poison sent to the Baron's own table, vows to choke the servant-traitor they sniffed out with his own bare hands. Then he sends Paul off world as a precaution and holds Jessica close for safety. For a reminder. For an oath they keep like a secret.

The last time he says it they try to beat water in a sea of sand; and they beat, and they beat, and they beat.

"May death claim me first," he murmurs with his head in her lap and her thumbs at his temple and she thinks her heart will stop, surely it must stop, for a moment she contemplates willing it to stop. If only to prove him wrong.

If only to allow herself that selfish thing.

But their boy is eighteen and needs her more than ever, and the father?

The father keeps his oath.

I should have married you, he says.

It's not a secret, she says back.

[ghostscribes]

" they’re counting on me. i won’t abandon them. " @valorsworn

" and i won't let you go alone ! " she retorted , a growl leaving her lips as she reached into her jacket ; pulling out her gun before staring up at him. "i will not lose you again , steve. "

[immobiliter]

       Human facial expressions were not the same as a turian's, and over the weeks and months — hell, years that he had now been working and living alongside a predominantly human crew, Garrus had slowly begun to understand the emotions and feelings they were intended to convey. Just as their bodies were softer than the hard plating and exoskeleton that made up his own species, a human face too was more pliant, more flexible. He knew now that the arch of a human's eyebrow was intended to express scepticism, or disbelief. Just as he knew that Amirah had several different types of smiles — and one, that had lit up her eyes just now in response to his remark, brought him a twinge of both satisfaction and pleasure in knowing that he was the cause of.

       Hopefully she, too, recognised the intensity and care in those alien eyes that watched her take her shot with such patience and precision. A walking marvel, one that he somehow doubted the galaxy would ever see again, and he was the one lucky enough to be on her arm and at her six.

       As she turned and traced her fingertips along his carapace, Garrus felt that same heat crackle in the air between them. Oh, she was in quite the mood today — though Garrus never could resist a challenge. Not from her.

       “ That's a conservative estimate coming from you, Shepard. ” As he shifted closer to her, his hand moved to cover her own, over the sniper rifle in her grasp, before he reached down to carefully take it from her. Passing it from one hand to the other, he then reached for her waist, applying a slight pressure with his fingers, just as he knew she liked it. “ You forget I'm as partial to a scope on the field as you are. ”

       An ever present point of contention between them, and one day he'd settle the question of who was the better shot once and for all. “ Though I suppose we'll have to keep doing this, even after the galaxy is saved, or else I'll never catch up. ” Perhaps it was foolish to cling onto the hope that there was an after, that the war wasn't all there would ever be in their lives. But they needed it. She needed it. Garrus spared a glance around them at the empty landscape they'd picked for their target practice. “ It's nice to visit a planet that could count as a tourist destination for a change. ” Not that it was a tropical paradise by any means, but the stifling warmth reminded him of Palaven. Could almost make him fool himself into thinking that there was no war, and he was simply bringing his human war hero girlfriend home to meet his parents.

@valorsworn cont.