![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
ic contact
HOUSE #1470
mayo ✧ little shit ✧ loving daughter
"You've reached Carol Danvers, aka Captain Marvel. I'm not here, leave a message!
If it's urgent... uh. Leave it urgently."
speed dial
steve
sakamoto
gremlin
mayo ✧ little shit ✧ loving daughter
"You've reached Carol Danvers, aka Captain Marvel. I'm not here, leave a message!
If it's urgent... uh. Leave it urgently."
speed dial
steve
sakamoto
gremlin
( call | text | voicemail | mail | action )
Re: action
[but he's tired, and with the clarity of the serial insomniac, he realises could just stop all of this from happening, by just -- fucking -- telling her]
I ain't right. In --
[he touches that wounded head of his, lips curling a bit at the bad break bad humour joke in the gesture, right now]
...M'sick. It happens, an' I can't...
[the not-smile fades, and he shrugs again, but it's not an apathetic one, this time -- it's pure hopelessness, there is nothing he can do, to stop these fits that keep happening more and more and he lost hours last night, he's never lost so much time, his knuckles are sore and his mouth still tastes of blood and he doesn't know what's happening to him]
[(he should be more scared, but he can only think about Dave, and how scared Dave might be, if he's even -- )]
It ain't like Fukawa. It's just -- me.
[I'm just me, he'd told her over text, trying to say he was not worth saving; the sentiment remains]
Re: action
[everything that's happened, everything that's been said, by him, about him. carol has been piecing it together for a long time now, she just hasn't wanted to see, too afraid of the shape it was all starting to take. every conversation they've had about killing people, hurting people, every word she saw him exchange with that snake in a person suit.
the things nill had said just last night. he's not gone yet, carol told her, only to get back he will be.]
I know.
[everything is gone from her face now except that ever-present suffocating concern for him, and her vision starts to blur with the beginnings of hot, helpless tears that she grits her teeth against as hard as she can. she reaches for his hand, the one unbandaged, not knowing how to fix this -- touch, comfort, it won't work but it's the only thing she can come up with because she is useless here.]
I know. Just let me help you. All I -- ever want to do is just help you.
Re: action
[he'd thought it with Nill and he thinks it with Carol now; it's just dead skin, he wants to say]
[that's why she can't help; what's happened is already scarred into him, there is no going back, there isn't even any going forward]
[it's all just going down, down, down -- he can't even see the bottom from here (but can almost smell it at night, sometimes, all dankness and loss)]
[there are some things that instantly offend a journalist. you never tell them you don't know about it and refuse to talk; you never say it didn't happen like that and impose your truth over theirs]
[you can't help and there's nothing you can do, Badou has found, are what is naturally repellent to a hero]
[he says instead, kiddish and clumsy (how vulgar, after that kind of admission)]
I just wanna bath...
Re: action
what do you do for someone when you know where the problem is, but you'll never be able to reach it?
the urge to cry is still threatening, but she won't let herself break, not until he's gone for his bath or he's safe in his bed (safe, what a cruel way to word it). maybe she just won't at all. like it's that easy.]
Okay.
[voice gone too-quiet, too-sad, carol squeezes his hand and lets it drop. ignores his earlier protests, all his past flinches away from her, ignores everything because she has so much affection for this thoroughly wrecked, thoroughly fucked-up kid, and maybe there's nothing she can do to fix any of this, but at least she can show him that.
hand on his shoulder, and she presses a stupidly maternal and useless kiss into the scraggly orange mess on top of his head. draws back, away, into her own space again.]
Go bath.
Re: action
[even if the (Bad Boy) blood isn't there, he's fallen into Carol's life the same way he fell into his brother's -- unasked for, accidentally, haphazardly (ahaha, she went out for smokes, an' three days later, it was just you an' me! is all he knows about his mother, yeah, he was already long gone is what he knows about his father)]
[that press of warm lips, of affection he has done nothing to deserve, has actively fought against at times, doesn't feel like home (Dave's unshaven face, sloppy aim, and toothy grin), but it shakes him, rattles something dusty and out of use deep within his gut (chest? it's so removed from teeth and claw, he can't even locate it). it makes him feel small and uncertain, weak and awful, lost and unhappy -- it makes him feel]
[(he used to ride on Dave's shoulders, when he was little, and even if there was only ever darkness above their heads and below their feet, he knew it was like being in the sky)]
Re: action
[and he nods blearily as he pulls away, not meeting her eyes]
[he's learned a lot, in the past few days]
[(but he doesn't understand a fucking thing)]