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nonsupe · 4 months

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oh no, it used to be fucking worse, leon says after a fit of laughter. shiloh almost can't bring himself to picture that. worse. he knows that it couldn't have been anything close to this in voughts earliest years. but with a name now synonymous with heroes changing the tides, one would expect far more out of even the most mundane crowd. its difficult to think that even before this, even with the success of their first hero, with leon, there was hardly any blitz or glamor in these ... investment parties. something about it almost felt stale, stagnant despite the celebration of the newly named hero. until he realizes: it's all a show. give them what they want, show them what their money is going towards, the product, and do not so much convincing to keep it coming. keep them happy. if the investors are happy, so is the company.

and its clearer now when leon points it out. the party isn't for us. its for the people in suits that clapped and cheered for the new guy as a warm welcome as his name was read aloud, as he walked to the stage to accept his new place and title. a little bit of this had also been for the press, something to talk about in the next mornings paper. not a doubt in his mind that they would run almost every photo they snap tonight. namely: captain vought and frederick vought standing to either side of their newest hero! even still ... it would be a lie to say he wasn't a least a little disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm, mostly from the suits. how bored they must be of shaking hands and talking numbers or the tides of politics.

but there is something to be said about the way leon leans into shiloh, so close that he can feel his breath over the shell of his ear. so close that for a moment he worries about leon catching that stutter of his heart, the quick pace of it after. he could almost lean into him if he dared, if it weren't for so many eyes to see them. and that fucker ... when he comes away from him and has that damn smile...

" even still, you'd think somebody died ... " he makes sure to say that last part under his breath. after all, some look as if they were ready to greet the grim reaper at any moment; often flanked by several men that were four or five decades their junior, few of which could be their sons.

let me guess, he said, the boos aren't doing it for you either? and he thinks about making another comment, but instead smothers a scoff with a laugh and says, " what gave it away? " though shiloh doesn't give him much chance to answer when eyes quickly scan the room, making certain that nobody is listening for even a moment before dark eyes go back to him, a hint of mischief in his smile, " how long do you think we can afford to disappear before someone notices? "

captain vought not granted a luxury of straying away, he was the second face of the company after-all, just after frederick vought. so he did his best not to roll his eyes at how long the speech actually droned on—— it took a lot of willpower, and especially so not to slouch against fredericks chair as he stood with one gloved hand upon the back of the chair on the stage, just aways from the podium. at the clapping towards the middle of the speech, leon let out a soft disguntled & irritated noise. frederick slapped his stomach with the back of his hand when attention was deviated to the new hero coming up on stage. an action that said, try to behave. he put on his brightest smile he could muster helping frederick up from his chair, following after him to present the name of the new hero. oh thank fuck.

like usual leon went to stand opposite frederick so voughts newest hero stood between them, hand on his shoulder, posing with a feigned happiness towards journalists who ran up to get photographs. once the older man was off the stage, leon as captain vought made his rounds throughout the noise space, posing for a photo there, signing an autograph here. a rather dull, uneventful night, perhaps more so in the eyes of a supe than any human standing in this room. they ate this shit up. because this "party" was for them, for the investors, for the shareholders. to frederick vought, it was simply the science. but to the company as a whole; money. that's all it boiled down to in the end, every time. money. can't do science without money, can't make more compound v without money, can't make more heroes without money. and that is what the heroes were supposed to do, get revenue.

vought had become and continued to be an ever expanding empire. the "parties" had come such a long way from the small celebration with leon back in 1940 with the success of all his trials, to 1947 when he'd returned home from war a murderer hero —— the ticker-tape parades signaling the end of an war-torn era, to now and who was he to rain on this parade so-to-speak. familiar voice pulled him from his stride, is it always like this? helmeted head rolled his head with the laughter that erupted from him, placing his fingerless gloved hand upon shilohs shoulder, “ oh no, it used to be fucking worse. ” less fun, more boring.

he leaned in, speaking quietly into his ear, “ the party isn't for us. ” us in reference to supes or super-abled such as shiloh the caretaker. “ its for the suits. and the suits are fucking boooooooriiiiiiiing and don't like too much of the glamor. ” he pulled back from the younger man, with a gallant smile that any on-looker would assume, he also isn't as stimulated as he needed to be. though captain vought did preen at the attention. frederick caught his gaze, he knew that if he were to sneak away; he'd only be able to afford fifteen minutes before he'd get a fatherly talking to. the only man at vought tower that could tell him what to do and he'd do it, even if he'd complain the entire time.

“ let me guess, the boos aren't doing it for you either? ”

#𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 . you stay quiet while a war happens within you‚ pre series.#ourtruths #repost.#<3 love u

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nonsupe · 4 months

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he can't be surprised. at least, not like he used to be even with each of the warnings he'd been given since his first days in the service. but shiloh never once thought leon would ever step out this far. little acts of spiteful rebellion against his father were a daily norm in a sense that most could almost go under the nose, brushed aside by most, earning a sideways glance from others before it was under control. vandalism speaking against his father was not a new thing, but this ... whatever he's doing here right now, it doesn't spell good news. especially since it took over an hour to find him and he's done so much already.

leon takes a step back from his spray painted vulgarities after shiloh's approach and he admires his handiwork. he seems proud of himself, a statement in his laughter following shilohs words to him, and in the moment couldn't care less about what some watcher has to say to him. nor the possibility of shiloh attempting to talk him down from doing "something stupid," he wanted to call it but before he'd been given the chance --- match is struck, lighting first the cigarette between his lips, then falling to the munitions supply loaded onto the train. shiloh hates the noise that comes out of his mouth, this strangled mess of disbelief. doesn't even get the chance to stop him or the lit fire before leon is flipping off the cameras, then turning to face him, beaming smile, grabbing him by the arm to run before the whole thing goes up.

and not a single moment to recover or process the things that just happened in only a few seconds before back meets a wall. are you fucking sure i charm my way out of it every time? he'll admit, poor choice in words.

he punishes me... every ... single ... time. of course it was naive to think that there occurred anything different between home and country, that the vice and terrible hold ulysses marshall holds over everything else he could get his hands on wouldn't also come out towards his family, his only son. shiloh isn't blind to it, not entirely anyway. there were whispers here and there, evidence of the awful things that become of that household behind closed doors when the attention was momentarily away from them. no cameras, no wandering or prying eyes to witness the things leon must endure. and if someone did see it in the house, outside of it, even for a split second, they wouldn't dare to speak against it, much less intervene. and he thinks that was the real trick about an abundance of power: people are terrified of you once you have proven yourself capable of keeping it, no matter the stakes or how messy it is. that was the trick president marshall used to his advantage when he grabbed power after the dark days, he was prepared to keep it by any means necessary and never flinched at the grit it took to make messy decisions or carry them out himself.

with leon in his space, shiloh watches as that fire from the train gleams in his eyes and reflects so much and so little at once. his rage, the disregard for all things that would benefit his father and the people around him. and this isn't even his biggest rebellion. not yet. shiloh realizes then that this was less about keeping him safe from the fireball that erupted with the destruction of the weapons, and it was more about preventing shiloh from stopping him from doing more, from stupidly trying to kill the roaring fire before it could do the damage he wanted. maybe it had even been both.

mouth opens to speak but nothing falls out and he bites his tongue. that isn't what i meant, he almost said. but it partially was. shiloh was just as much worried about the repercussions he'd face from not only his commanding officer, but what leon's father might say to him. would he be forced to resign his post for this? would he be sent to patrol the districts? would his punishment not stop with him and go on to reflect upon his father as well, the only man to be allowed to stand so close to the patriarch? all because he wasn't watching him closely enough. he snuck away on his watch. leon may as well have walked out the front door of the estate with absolutely no resistance or questions asked. but the worry now is: what becomes of leon?

" i didn't mean it like that. " he finally says. it doesn't make it any better and the words don't offer themselves easily after that. he refuses to pretend to be shocked about it though, leon deserves that truth no matter how bitter it is to swallow for either of them. " aren't you ever afraid? "

from an outward perspective, it was to be perceived that leon marshall received anything he could ever want. but with it came the iron fist that hiram "ulysses" marshall ruled over panem with—— not only towards the country, the districts but within the marshall estate and the presidents mansion. with aggression displaced equally towards his contempt for the districts and the conviction that his son, leon hiram marshall would be unfit to run panem after he was gone. the only thing leon never got was a healthy and safe childhood, a family that loved him unconditionally.

instead receiving one who long before he could raise his head dooming him to failure, a disappointment. It had only grew worse following the dark days, a crisp young newly eighteen leon serving the peacekeepers during that first rebellion, where he refused to kill a rebel even helped her. while "ulysses" carried contempt for his son before he’d yet to do anything, the contempt also rested within his own bones, reflecting ten-fold back towards his father. leon promised himself that when he took power, things would change, the country would change as best as he could make it. at every turn, he’d taken his chance to sabotage no matter how small, the capitol, the leader; his fathers plans.

but the first rebellion was still fresh, the dark days were still lingering in the back of peoples minds. rebellion would have to wait another day, another near ten decades, a future uncertain in the eyes of the still young adult capitol boy named leon marshall. they were all too scared to speak out against the continued tyranny of the marshall family, so most days he felt alone in his endeavor of making life a living hell for his father right back. the more abuse he received the more he pushed back, and the more he pushed back the more abuse happened, caught in a vicious circle—— most days bloody and beaten not given the access to the light of day or any human interaction.

this particular day held bruising to his ribcage which he felt with each twist of his body, as he spray painted profanities and slander against his father to the side of the supply train that traveled through the districts. he’d slipped his ‘babysitter’ but it seemed the other young man had caught up to him. you're gonna get us both into trouble one day, which caused a thunderous laugh to erupt from leon as he jumped down from the train carriage, the only acknowledgement he’d given shiloh as he back-stepped to admire his handiwork. it would more than likely be scrubbed off not long after the train made it’s way along the tracks.

“ that’s the bitch of it... ” leon finally spoke, taking a cigarette out from the packet and putting it between his lips, “ I’m always in trouble. ” still doesn’t take his gaze towards the other man, instead taking the cigarette from his lips, using his teeth to strike the match which he lit his cigarette, now back between his lips, tossing the still burning match onto a nearby stockpile of weapons on the train that caught fire. brought both his hands up to flip off the cameras, back away from his gesture to turn with a bright smile to grab shiloh’s hand and sprint away from the train-tracks, the capitol supply station.

small explosion erupted behind them, “ are you fucking sure I charm my way out of it every time. What if I told you…? ” shoving shiloh against the wall, puffing on the cigarette building up the ash, stepping into his space, “ he punishes me… every…. single….. time. ”

#ourtruths #repost.#𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 . a golden cage is still just a cage‚ hunger games.#i get so emotional every time i think about this thread in particular #these poor darling boys

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nonsupe · 4 months

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another day, another mess. one would think that with as much history as the company has now in their assets, these heroes, they'd better learn how to control the leash they have around each of their necks. at least a measure of conviction in this so called "vice grip" they claim to hold on them, even as they destroy half a city block in the wake of a "rescue" that turned photo op with the media and victims. their so called hero left more people dead or dying than the incident itself, not so much as a second thought given to those who were in the path. it left shiloh with an angry police chief and fire battalion, a few members of the city council even. all of which he had to talk down from, frankly, a rightly placed anger. cameras he had to control or confiscate from reporters on scene. stay in control of the narrative. somewhere at the back of his mind, that lesson taught to him by an old acquaintance comes forward and suddenly he's a young man in the thick of moscow, digging his hands as far into the muck as they'll go. as long as he stays in control of the narrative, nothing could surprise him and everything will turn out according to the designed plan.

cigarette is taken from the pack in his chest pocket as he watches a reporter talk and take notes with the chief of police, who flit more than a few icy glares his way, but does stick to the story he told him to say to the press. control the narrative. now all he has to worry about are the victims of this fucking wreck of a incident and what exactly he'll say to the fucking dumbass who caused this to happen in the first place. but he'll do that when he knows more on condition of the victims in the coming hours, when he knows if even one will make it through the night. shiloh sticks the cigarette between his teeth and strikes the lighter, brings flame up to meet the cigarette when the chief moves on with his examination of the scene and the reporter scribbles a few more notes onto his notepad. a long drag, practically breathing in the smoke. he makes his own note to stop in for another pack after he's done here, one left.

hours go by and he's played the part of a concerned citizen talking to that same reporter he saw prior, making certain that his story is straight; and his role as the caretaker making sure everything on scene was wrapped up tightly and squared away for good. nice clean ends. everything that happened on scene was part of the earlier incident and in no way tied directly to vought or the hero, though they would provide heartfelt messages of support to the city of new york, to those affected, also providing funds and services to help clean up in the wake of saving lives.

what a joke that was. eventually the first responders clear the scene, the numerous reporters that had shown up in that time leave with their stories and it gives shiloh his green light to finally call it a day here. he snuffs out that last cigarette under his shoe, pulling phone from his pocket to check the few notifications he had, then calling the office. " everythings clean here, " he says and that was that.

but finally he could go home. finally he could settle in on his couch, kick off his boots for the day and worry about the rest of his problems tomorrow. he does remember to make a stop, though, at some gas station on the way and grabs three more packs of marlboros. it'll last him only two days.

when he gets home, the caretaker immediately falls away. boots are kicked off at his doorstep and relief quickly floods in. a pack of those cigarettes is already being opened, smacking the box against the palm of his hand. the door is locked behind him. strikes the lighter, flame to cigarette, takes a long drag and finally, finally, shiloh allows himself to fully recline on the couch, resting his head against the back of it.

it takes all of two seconds to fucking ruin it. of fucking course someone comes banging on his door when he tries to allow himself one fucking second of peace after a long day. over and over and fucking over again, so harshly that he can see it bend with the force behind each strike. fuck.

give me a fucking second, he almost says. he takes another long drag of the cigarette, exhaling the smoke before snuffing it out. he has no intention of rushing to the door, whoever was on the other side could wait a damn second for all he cared. but the more they continue, the more annoying its starting to become. he groans when he wills himself up. " goddamn. okay, okay! fucking relax! if you break my door, you're--- " and the ire quickly falls away upon seeing the other man at his doorstep, surprise takes its place. even that doesn't last long when shiloh looks over his face. there is a weight upon him that looks too heavy for even him to carry.

not a moments hesitation, he opens the door for him. " shit. come in. "

time moved in a surreal blur, as it always did with each insufferable event just as bad as the last. he'd been so used to just coming into frederick voughts office, being met with a soft irritated scoff at leons words, whatever choice of them they were, but affectionate all the same. “ you'll never believe what—— ” however, there was ....nothing.... not even a heartbeat ! leon was up from the couch in an instant over to his desk. “ frederick? ” he cursed himself for being so caught up, for paying attention faster. the old man was slumped over his desk, over a pile of papers that leon didn't care enough to preserve right now. “ frederick? ” the supe tried again, a little more frantic than the last. fucking stubborn mule, he thought as he flipped the desk away, other hand holding the limp body up before lowering him to the ground.

he tapped his face, still no response. needless to say he was scared to start cpr, but he had no choice. but first, he leaned over and slammed his fingers on the panic button to the underside of fredericks desk. “ I need some fucking help in here! ” he called out at the top of his lungs. “ okay, ” word barely above a whisper as his closed his hands together, placing his hands to his chest and started. the length of time between when whatever stopped his heart & now was unknown to him, but he couldn't do nothing.

“ come on, you fucking stupid old man, ” tears brimmed the edge of eyes as he continued in the perfect rhythm without even getting close to tiring. “ why didn't you fucking inject yourself? you're. so. fucking. stupid. ” after what felt like so god damn long, fucking finally, help had come; well, the paramedics, others had already come in long before that, but his focus had only been on trying in a vain attempt to restart fredericks heart. klara came in, beside herself while he wouldn't admit to liking her even a little bit, he felt for her. she loved frederick, he loved frederick, they all loved frederick.

he moved with one hand reaching for her wrist, yanking it rather forcefully, placing her hand to his chest—— they weren't getting the defibrillator ready fast enough for his liking, “ klara, focus! ” his other hand continued the motion of cpr, “ I know you're scared but you need to shock him. ” he cleared his hand of her wrist and the old mans chest. but the shocks didn't work. the blur, nothing they were doing or continued to do was working. leon remembered them telling him he was too heavy to ride on the gurney, so someone else climbed on top. more for his and klaras benefit.

what felt like in the distance he heard, how long had they been doing this? over twenty minutes. he's gone.

what he doesn't remember was getting on the helicopter, air-lifted to the hospital. nor did he remember the continued blur of him insisting to go with. no, captain vought you have to stay here. waiting room is around the corner. he did remember pacing back and forth, breaking half the chairs in the waiting room. while klara sat just outside the door crying into her hands. after they'd given him the news, which had been denial he held onto.

I'm sorry.

we did everything we could.

on his way out, he stopped to put his fingerless gloved hand to klara's shoulder, she'd be uncontrollable now but he'd cross that bridge if they had to. it's short-lived, he stilled hated her guts and everything she stood for but he could hold off the hostility he felt towards her at least for the day.

his booted feet continued to carry him, down the corridor, not even letting anyone see his non-brave face. not to his surprised they let him in to see him. there was a sheet covering his body and leon moved it so he could look at the older mans face. “ you're a fucking stupid stubborn old man, you know that? ” he leaned against the cold autopsy table, he dragged his helmeted face and placed it against his cold shoulder, “ you left me! you fucking... ” he couldn't even finish his sentence before he let go, and sobbed. so much so that he ended up on the morgue floor, back to the table.

just as soon as he cried, his expression was blank, he'd been around death his entire life—— whether it had been the encroaching doom upon him before compound v, war, but somehow this was different. captain vought pushed himself up off the floor, respectfully covering frederick voughts' body with the sheet again. he touched his forehead over it before he's striding off, down the corridors, and finally out the emergency room doors down the pavement, slowly into the parking lot.

he stomped to the pavement, it cracked traveling to disrupt a line of cars—— he screamed, screamed at the top of his lungs. more cars were disrupted, he lifted and smashed another one. car alarms went off all over the parking lot and he stormed off in the direction towards @nonsupe's apartment. once he reached the half-way point his quick stride slowed considerably. ignoring each call of captain vought, whatever they wanted; fuck the fuck off.

taking the stairs, three at a time up to the apartment door.

he banged on it harshly & repeatedly.

#ourtruths #death /#𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 . you stay quiet while a war happens within you‚ pre series.#blows u a kiss #repost.

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nonsupe · 4 months

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anyway.. not saying that it would happen but if shiloh had ever had kids, his first boy absolutely would've been named harry

#i go back and forth on it every day #but the thought just gets me

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nonsupe · 5 months

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reminder to me for later to flesh out my hunger games verse for shiloh so it can go on the doc.

#i'm gonna jump into some drafts here while shiloh is awake #then i'll probably jump over to abe. then the multi later if i have time / energy #but i'm defintiely gonna be here <3

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nonsupe · 5 months

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Joel Kinnaman | In Treatment Season 4 Episode 13

#he has my whole heart #my baby boy #𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 . they call him the caretaker.

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nonsupe · 5 months

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the marshall's were prominent figures in panem. president and first lady in a world slowly coming back to its legs after too much spilled blood, putting the pieces back together again in their own controlled way. everything seemed to fit perfectly now, everything had an order and a precision that hadn't existed in the technical way it does today. and it was because of them. it was like they took everything in their hands and shaped it to work to their will, and if not by that will then by force. there was a vice grip over panem and recently reformed districts, it's been that way for as long as shiloh can remember.

because all of what he knows of an essence previous to panem was everything his mother told to him, who had a sufferers perspective. she lived in those dark times before panem had a real leader. his father had a similar story to hers, but he had an easier time growing accustomed to the changes as they happened while he was hiram marshall's personal bodyguard and hearing the plans spoken in closer proximity to him than almost anyone else. he knew what was coming and how to prepare for it.

it turn, some would say shiloh has the same luck. being close to the family as changes are made, as things were discussed in close enough proximity to him that he knows of the oncoming announcements before the rest of the people do. if only because he was hired, thanks to harry's own recommendation to the right people, to protect them during these times of change and dangerous politics when anyone could decide to take matters into their own hands and fuck it up again.

though his job was mostly to keep up with the son, leon, and keep him out of trouble and harms way, from making poor decisions that would keep him in those predicaments or something that would reflect poorly on him and the family. he was warned, of course, by those who were already familiar with his antics. warned by harry to mind him and watch for that gleam he gets in his eye when he was about to make a decision, especially an unwise one. but even with all the advice .. nobody could have truly prepared him for @antisupe.

" you're gonna get us both into trouble one day, " he says, and he can't resist the smile that comes with it. its not strange to be friends with a ward, right? " and you may be the only one who could charm your way out of it. "

#𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 . a golden cage is still just a cage‚ hunger games.#antisupe #blows u a kiss #here you are my love <3 #after 84 years

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nonsupe · 5 months

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THE KILLING 3.01

#the way i YELLED when i saw this #shiloh vibes !!!#𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 . mouth full of lies.#𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 . they call him the caretaker.

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nonsupe · 5 months

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❝ See, friends are overrated, ‘cause eventually someone will come along and shoot 'em in the stack. You’re better off alone. ❞

Joel Kinnaman as Takeshi Kovacs

ALTERED CARBON (2018-2020)

#𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 . they call him the caretaker.#<3 <3 <3 #i lob him

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nonsupe · 5 months

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“There are some people you’ll never see again. At least, not in the same way.”

— Iain Thomas

#𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 . mouth full of lies.#there's just something about this #i can't explain it but man it hits hard

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nonsupe · 6 months

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thinking a lot today about the cva program before it was shut down and the faith a lot of people had in its success simply because of the parent component of the serum. how much money was actually spent in the development and the test and "any future marketing" that they would have done, only for any trace of it to be classified and/or burned. how shiloh remains the only evidence that they ever did anything with that specific serum at all.

#at least the only remaining healthy individual that survived. there were two in sage grove after the serum did awful things to them.#im just !!!! Thinking #one day i'll do a meta on the whole thing #or maybe add more info to the doc one day #because i have so many thoughts on it

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nonsupe · 6 months

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i do. usually that answer doesn't swell something in him akin to pride. his guise is to be trusted, that's how he worms his way in. but its different with her, has been since the start. she trusts him completely, its there behind her eyes when she looks at him and as she smiles. its unwavering in a way thats staggering, to have it does something unexplainable to him. there's a warmth that comes with it that isn't familiar, but feels welcoming nonetheless. " good. "

something like that they can't take away, not easily. they can say what they want about him, create their own narrative, use one scare tactic after the next, warning her of the potential dangers that accompany him, true or not and it wouldn't matter. she knows the truth.

then question is returned to him: do you trust me? the instinctive answer is a resounding no. but it comes from that part of him that demands he be ready for anything, including a brutal betrayal. given the history of vought itself as the company and the people within it, it was better to play it safe. he wouldn't be the only person they fucked over if it came down to it. watch your back out here because you're the only one who can. you know the signs. he gives it a long moment, watching her before he finally finds the voice to speak his answer. quietly, " explicitly. "

she's told him what she'd been told — though, of course, she'd come to her own conclusions. it was them ( that horrible amorphous them. scientists behind masks and googles that poked and prodded you to the verge of death ) that she didn't trust. but her words don't seem to cut him, and they hadn't been intended to harm. he seems to bite back something of a smile, if she didn't know better. it makes him look handsome.

❛ i didn't, ❜ she agrees, now her own lips curving up against the desire to hide any sort of response that may give her away. ( give what away, you're not too sure ). it's only when he smiles that she allows the same curve to her own exhausted lips. she gives him a singular nod, lips quirking to the side in some girlish, pleased expression. ❛ i do. ❜ yes, they needed one another — ( you need him more than he needs you, you think ) — but she found herself erring on the side of want, rather than need. ❛ do you trust me ? ❜

#𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 . you've become familiar with destruction‚ season three.#artisanals #i love them sm #these darlings !!#also here you go <3 #right back at you today !!!

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