 | toxicarchive asked ; ♡ |
; send a ♡ to hear how my character would tell your character that they loved them without actually using the word ❛ love❜
Blood transforms into FIRE in her veins. Keeps her warm, burning with hatred. Keeps her alive. She hates him. Hates him for how he destroyed her family. Hates him for how the experiments were never-ending. Hates so much it turns to LOVE { not ! }. It’s driven obsession they both feel. She’s a galactic gladiator. Defected, she turns ‘gainst Cerberus. Strives to plunge the knife into the three-headed hounds neck. Cut off the heads like the hydra & stand VICTORIOUS. She’s dreamed of this, you see. For years.
’ Natasha. ‘
He says it so effortlessly, so smoothly. It’s scotch on the rocks. It’s a lullaby for you to close your eyes to. Her fingers are the knife plunging into his back. Betrayal is a mark they both know intimately like lovers under covers. He made her, erected her higher than any profound monument. Still, she defected. She wonders what that says about the Illusive Man – that he can’t keep his pawns together in one place. She wonders how ’ NATALIA ‘ would sound on the tip of his wagging, lying tongue.
As a ghost, she wanders Cerberus’ darkened halls. They may be immaculate & white in appearance, but she knows the blood that stains the labs. Easily removed by peroxide. Skilled assassin that she was manages to slip into his chambers. His office where all the plans enfold. With her fingers brushing his back, she thinks about the different ways he could suffer. Would he fight back? Something tells her he would – laughing merrily with a mouth full of b l o o d.
’ Don’t be a coward, ’ he demands this much of her. He seeks to chain her, to wrap a leash ‘round her neck. Closes her cold, blue eyes. Ne’er as bright as his, ne’er as corrupt. She feels vengeance & ruin where he senses only the latter. He stiffens beneath her touch, as though she’s a fury of Irish Myth, a living witch that will cast her spells. Sidelong, he eyes her & she catches a glimpse of the frigid cerulean sea. He’s not a man, she reminds herself when she pulls out the gun. Holds it high { justly, proudly }. This is her spear. Athena, Goddess of Wisdom & War, would smile in her favor.
’ I’ve got news for you. I belong to NO ONE. ‘
Then, why does she do as she’s told? Standing at attention in front of him, their eyes meet. A hand flicks out in a flash, his hand against the muzzle. No grins now. She’s peeled them all away to catch a glimpse of his ugly interior. He closes her hand over hers with a father’s love { another father gone MAD}. Kisses the metal of the gun. It could’ve been her lips. She wonders how that would feel. To kiss a snake. She’s kissed many seedy men to get the job done, but ne’er one as sick as he.
Wordlessly, she blows him away. Tugs on the sweet trigger that promises not the salvation of humanity, but her own. Disconnect, self-destruct. There’s a hole where his throat once was. He’s choking on himself. So damn full of himself. He swallows his blood like wine & she smiles. But it hurts.
Black Widow she is, Black Widow she will forever be.
 | conxuer-blog asked ; ♡ |
; send a ♡ to hear how my character would tell your character that they loved them without actually using the word ❛ love❜
Some legends last a lifetime. History will ne’er forget the SHEPARD, but they will forget the Illusive Man. An old, nearly foreign feeling shrouds his with’red, black heart. Jealousy. Envy. He didn’t have Shepard’s fire. Her glory. Her prowess. Her POWER. Selfish man wants it A L L for himself. Not once does he say this, but the look in his eyes speaks in volumes. The way he stares leaves a chilling impression. He hopes that he leaves a stain on her soul.
During every encounter, he watches her like a hawk. The steady nod of his head. The omniscient stare. Such a look matches that of Gods of years old watching from Mt. Olympus. & like a loyal parishioner, she follows. She follows for his decree aimed towards humanity’s progress. For salvation at any cost. The more she follows, the less she believes.
Still, Shepard finds herself tethered to the Illusive Man. He’s nameless – a black hole that threatens to suck her in. Maybe that’s why she stayed for the Suicide Mission. To stay in an attempt to pry off his mask. So, she stays longer & time falls from in-between her fingers. Little grains of sand all but slipping away. Now, she sees him for what he really is.
A M O N S T E R.
Moral acts of indignation rip him to shreds. Gone is Jack Harper, the man she ne’er knew. The marks of indoctrination sully his flesh, real & tangible. She wonders what they must feel like – these fresh scars. They resemble ribbons of ink, swirling with a supernova glow. In her wounded hero’s state, she frowns. She’s got thick skin & an elastic heart. She’ll bounce back, but he won’t. It’s a showdown when he circles her, when he shoots Anderson so mercilessly.
This is madness, this is blindness.
’ You don’t understand, ’ he whispers with the gun pressed into her temple. He caresses her neck where his diamonds could have rested. She flashes a glare that SCREAMS: ’ You will remember me for CENTURIES. ’ With a chortle, he hums. The song of Old Machines. The Reapers’ jarring tune. She’ll grip his heart with a bullet & as his eyes devour Earth once more, he’ll realize—
—He could have LOVED her.