sharcarters

[sharcarters]

twentyninetynines​:

(✉️ ➡️ roommate, apparently): okay, does that mean you’re moving out?  (✉️ ➡️ roommate, apparently): because i’d be fine with you moving out (✉️ ➡️ roommate, apparently): you’ve been here for months. (✉️ ➡️ roommate, apparently): wait (✉️ ➡️ roommate, apparently): /the/ poison? (✉️ ➡️ roommate, apparently): did you leave poison somewhere? (✉️ ➡️ roommate, apparently): are you trying to poison /me?/ (✉️ ➡️ roommate, apparently): don’t do that

(✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): does my mail get delivered to your apartment? no? then shut up (✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): i don't live there, i'm just vacationing there (✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): not because i enjoy it. (✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): i don't know what you're talking about (✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): "poison" no one said poison [sharon, during this, messaged daisy and the text messages are now deleted.] (✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): maybe you're trying to poison me

#twentyninetynines #miguel o'hara: rabid #girlboss gatekeep gaslight

[sharcarters]

catalystsofchange​:

It was strange, the stability of this relationship. Dick’s life was full of ever-changing dynamics and shaky ground, full of connections that could be turned upside down in a moment thanks to big personalities and short tempers. His siblings would always have his back, but they might not always return his calls. He’d do anything for Bruce, but sometimes he ducked his head and hopped off the roof when he saw Batman coming. Things with Sharon were different. They were predictable, the same every time. There was always animosity. There was always a sort of kinship lurking beneath it. There was always a refusal to admit to that. 

But there was something different about her demeanor today, and Dick noticed it because he always did, because his heart was too big for his damn body, because he’d never once let anything slide. He started to comment on it, but she beat him to it when she spoke again. “Maybe I already do,” he joked, but he didn’t. He’d never hated her, even when she’d first shown up in New York and he’d felt like his world was falling apart. But as she continued, all hints of humor fell from his expression. “Do they know who I am?” It wasn’t quite an accusation, but it was close. “Is my family in the line of fire here, too?”

/

Sharon rolled her eyes, waving a hand in the air as he spoke. "Try it again with more gusto, and maybe I'll pretend to believe you." But after all this, she wouldn't blame him if he did resent her. Predictably, his first worry was barely about himself, the first real leap he made was to his family and that obvious connection there. It wasn't hard to draw conclusions as to where Nightwing got his training if you knew his real name was Dick Grayson. Sharon, of course, did her best to play dumb. Easier to pretend she had no idea who was who than deal with that look of betrayal and worry that came when people had their identities discovered.

(And she had more power if she kept that secret to herself, too.)

"I don't think so." But that's all she had. An assumption she was making in the dark. "I can't say. I can say is that everything I know is up here," she said, tapping her temple. "I didn't write anything down, but that doesn't mean we haven't been watched - someone might be putting the pieces together." Someone could have seen them in Madripoor. Someone could have linked the timeline of Nightwing vanishing from Gotham to reappearing with Dick's coming and going - if someone was looking for that link, they'd find it. "My advice? Make a very public appearance and have someone dressed up as Nightwing at the same time. Put Dick Grayson and Nightwing in the same room."

#catalystsofchange #richard grayson: tired

[sharcarters]

catalystsofchange​:

“I would,” Dick agreed, because that wasn’t in question. If there was one thing he was good at, after all, it was accepting apologies. It didn’t matter if they were genuine, didn’t matter if he knew the other person was lying. Someone said I’m sorry, and Dick Grayson said it’s okay because that was what you did. Even if they didn’t mean it, even if it wasn’t okay, even if the ache in his chest still went so deep that he couldn’t breathe around it, that was what you did. You accepted whatever apology the people around you saw fit to make, because what choice did you have? What option? If you said no, what were you opening yourself up to but more pain? At least this way, Dick could pretend he was okay.

He just… wasn’t as good at pretending as he used to be.

Exhaling sharply out his nose, Dick nodded. “I remember,” he offered. “And I’m sorry you lost it.” And he was. In spite of everything, he was. That was another thing that always seemed to be true, no matter what he did; Dick was always sorry. Glancing up to meet her eye, he furrowed his brow. “Bludhaven? This apartment? This country?” It didn’t matter what she meant — the answer to all of them was the same. “I don’t know. I used to, I think. A long time ago. But… I’ve never been good at staying in one place for long. I grew up in the circus, you know? We moved around so much, I couldn’t have told you where I was from if you’d asked back then. These days, I’d just say Gotham, but… I don’t feel it. I don’t think I trust this place. I don’t think I trust any place. It’s always felt temporary.” 

/

He was good. Better than most. Sharon could give him that much credit at least, even if he poked at each one of her buttons and caused her enough grief that she made jokes about shooting him in his ass. But the parts that made him better than most people she knew - they also made him soft. He accepted what was given to him, apologies that weren't genuine, circumstances created by others... he took those things and continued on, and despite the tension between the two of them, she never felt that he blamed her for any of it. And maybe he ought to. Even for things that weren't in her hands. Maybe if he let it out, he wouldn't be sitting out here and looking so grim.

"Don't be," Sharon dismissed. "Unless you're the one who has been stirring up shit just for fun?" They both knew it wasn't for fun, it was a power play for someone who wanted her seat at the table in Madripoor. It was a mess of her own making. One she'd need to correct quickly before she ended up with a bullet in the back of the head. "I think if you have to ask that question in return - I have my answer." Sharon crossed her arms as he explained. "What about the people?" It was the edge of knowing each other. Of opening up. "I was never in one place for long because of work. No roots anywhere. But I had people just like me. Shared life experience is... it's hard to find for people like us. But it helps."

#catalystsofchange #richard grayson: places to trust #bullet wound mention tw

[sharcarters]

libertycaps​:

(✉ → 13): Depends. How much special am I getting back? (✉ → 13): Never. Just looks like you’ve kicked it up a gear, is all. (✉ → 13): Shining the light selectively on the truth, maybe. (✉ → 13): That’s why I thought Tony was being so touchy, honestly. (✉ → 13): His personal life affects his work more than he’d like to admit. (✉ → 13): Though he still stands by it now and he’s happier than he’s ever been, so I guess I was off on that one. (✉ → 13): Stewart? Really? I don’t look like a Stewart. (✉ → 13): Anymore, at least. […] (✉ → 13): Completely blank, except for thoughts of you. […] (✉ → 13): He pisses you off, so you trust him? (✉ → 13): I guess I get that. Sounds like how I used to feel about Bucky. (✉ → 13): I don’t have many reference points for family. […] (✉ → 13): Stop that. You’re trying to distract me. (✉ → 13): You /make/ me better. Present tense. […] (✉ → 13): Threats of violence are more like promises coming from you, that’s true. […] (✉ → 13): You’re typing a lot. […] (✉ → 13): UNSENT I don’t own much, either. (✉ → 13): UNSENT I used to. My place in D.C. was nice. Nicer than I’ve ever had. If you’d taken the offer for coffee I would’ve (✉ → 13): UNSENT Do you want somewhere nice […] (✉ → 13): It matters. (✉ → 13): But there’s no point talking about how it matters if I don’t know /why/ it matters. So it’s fine. (✉ → 13): He’s annoying but you like him enough to call him family and sleep at his place. It’s fine.

(✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): you keep asking questions like that and you'll get answers that'll make you blush (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): sometimes i need to kick it up a gear. sometimes you need to get kicked in the ass! (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): men are very good at that, do y'all have a handbook or something i can borrow? 'how to selectively tell the truth by stevie g. rogers' (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): i think he knows that very well, just hates when other people realize that he's... you know, a person (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): i'm just glad i missed the 'will they or wont they' part of this latest chapter. watching them dance around each other for the last ten years was nauseating (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): no you looked like a stewie back then

[...] (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): don't make it cute

[...] (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): less like bucky and more like keep your friends close and your enemies closer

[...] (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): so it's working then? the foreplay? :) (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ):

[...] (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): the best part is he has no idea who i am really, so he has no idea what the follow up looks like. it's a nice shade of fear in his eyes

[...] (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): yeah well you said some bullshit and i had to think about it.

[...] (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): bullshit steve. you don't know? (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): don't play that game with me (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): [unsent] you're so- (✉️ ➡️ national anthem ): your color is blue, steve. not green.

#libertycaps #steve rogers: couch #nsfw ish

[sharcarters]

Sharon was on her side, leaning over the side of the couch and letting her head hang, wishing that the new position would help settle her stomach, but she was starting to believe that absolutely nothing would help tame the nausea. Her hand came over her stomach. The movement, however slight, was enough to make her groan again. And then Rictor spoke again, using the word puke. Bastard.

“Shut up,” Sharon grumbled, not daring to move her head enough to look in his direction. “Say puke one more time and I’ll be redecorating your… living room?" She was on a couch and there was a TV and a coffee table - but it was hard to tell what the function of these rooms was supposed to be. “You’re not allowed to die. Sorry, but I already RSVP’d and my ducks need someone." Cat food? Sharon lifted her head and looked at him lazily. “Where is the cat? I want to scratch ears." And hold something small and warm. “I think… the bar we were at had a bar cat. Did you steal that from Mischa’s competition?" 

“Promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for them.” // @sharcarters

It had been… one hell of a night. Rictor remembered it in bits and pieces. Being thrown out of the first bar after starting a fight. Leaving the second when they’d run out of the brand of tequila they’d been drinking. Falling asleep in the back room at the third only to be shaken awake by the bartender at last call. Heading back to XFI because it was closest, letting Sharon take the couch for the night because there was no way she’d make it back to Washington Heights without tripping over her own two feet and he’d have felt bad if she chipped a tooth. The memories were all hazy, existing only as flashes that definitely explained the pounding in his head and the muffled sound of Sharon’s voice from where her head was stuffed against the pillow on the sofa. Rictor groaned, practically collapsing on top of her feet.

“I won’t be able to tell your ducks about your valiant efforts to make it home to them because I’m gonna spend the rest of my life puking. And the rest of my life is gonna be ten minutes, tops.” The room spun, and Rictor squeezed his eyes shut. “I found a can of cat food in my jacket pocket. It’s not even the brand Mischa eats. Do you have any idea where it came from?”

#rictorscales #julio richter: cat food

[sharcarters]

impulselantern​:

“Because I’m taller than you. Don’t make things weird.” He could tell by the tone of her voice alone that they were hovering over not great territory, which was so not where he wanted to be with her. Sharon was great, and Simon did like women who could probably kill him, but he also liked Captain America thinking he was an okay guy, and he got the feeling this would be a sure fire way to see that go out the window. “My socks do not have holes in them! You take that back! My socks are pristine!” Maybe they were before he’d been kicked out of his house, but now? Most of them spent way too much time on the Sector House floor to be considered that. “Was that supposed to sound kinky? Because it sounded pretty kinky.” He offered her a small, sympathetic smile. “Yeah. I get that.” There was a memory of the house he’d grown up in, spray paint marring the garage door. The bus stop just down the road, where the white kids tugged at Sira’s hijab and took turns punching Simon in the stomach. Sometimes, nowhere was safe. And sometimes, you lost the places that were. Like Sira’s sofa. “I’m sorry. I wish I could offer you a place to stay but to be honest? I’m kind of going through the same thing.”

/

“Uh, I’m talking to you. Everything about you is a shade of weird.” And a shade of green, as it turned out. But she figured that was something to drop into a conversation later. He was uncomfortable enough without her pulling any punches. “Um, yeah I doubt that. Heavily. You’ve got crunchy and unreliable written all over your face.” Sharon leaned back in her chair and grinned at Simon, shrugging her shoulders. “I wouldn’t say that to his face. He’d get real embarrassed.” Though this probably qualified for one of the things he’d prefer to be ‘private.’ But she wasn’t explicitly saying he liked it — just that it would make him blush. (She could argue her way out of it.) “You too?” The surprise, this time, was real. She hadn’t been following him around like she would have any of her informants, but she thought that him struggling with a home would have popped up on her radar. “It’s not easy getting sleep when you bring trouble home. Where are you at now?”  

#impulselantern #simon baz: socks

[sharcarters]

She had taken a step in one direction and found herself stepping into a conversation that she hadn’t considered. Sharon was always five steps ahead of everyone (including Steve in most cases) but in her mind, she was thinking about Wakanda. And Steve was still thinking about Berlin. “Are we going to rehash Berlin again?” She had never argued with him about that, but she had spared enough words to Tony about the situation that she’d rather never think about Germany ever again. “I thought we were talking about SHIELD.” And Sharon, for once, would much rather talk about SHIELD.

Berlin had been a choice on Sharon’s part. SHIELD had been taken from her. The legacy that her aunt had spent her entire life building had been taken down into the water and the organization shamed in the years that followed. And leaving Wakanda — she didn’t know if she could call it a choice or not. It felt far more complicated. It was a place of safety for so many and Sharon had stood in that palace and all she could think was that she hadn’t earned that safety. She gave Steve back the shield and Sam his wings and Bucky some armor — but the fight? She had missed that. And she had missed Siberia.

Sharon crossed her arms and watched as Steve cleaned up. Normally she would have been at his side, helping him clean up or quietly bullying him while he tried to wipe down the dishes. But instead, she let the distance between them breathe. “Berlin wasn’t easy.” She had talked about this with Tony before, detailed out how it had been just a moment that had happened between the two of them that passed as quickly as the two of them could blink.

“That kiss felt a lot like goodbye.”

it just felt too easy to leave, like i shouldn’t be able to just leave. || @sharcarters​

Sometimes (most times) Steve got the feeling Sharon had left him in the dust, intellectually speaking. Their conversations were always about one thing but actually meant they were discussing three at a time, and she constantly looked at him as if she knew what he was about to say even if he didn’t. She was good at her job (the best, Fury had said that more than once) and that’s why, before he made any rash decisions surrounding rejoining SHIELD, he wanted to get her opinion on it. She was an agent, a soldier, she knew how SHIELD worked intimately – and there was a part of Steve that thought she deserved to be a part of any major life choice for a different reason, too, a far more personal one.

It started, as it always did, with Steve attempting a relatively simple introduction. I didn’t want to leave SHIELD, he’d said, always finding it easier to talk when he was busying himself with something else – in this case, it was cleaning scraps from dinner off the island counter into a bag for the bin. Despite the sudden change in conversation from what movie they’d go see that night, Sharon moved with remarkable ease (as she always did) and Steve was the one left quietly thinking it over for a long moment before he spoke again.

(She left SHIELD. He was talking about SHIELD, their shared burden, their shared legacy. She left SHIELD because of him, because of the sacrifices she made based on her faith in him, and they were talking about that, but he couldn’t stop thinking about them under that bridge. She’d left then, too. She’d left the CIA and she’d left–)

“Did you feel that way in Berlin, too?”

#libertycaps #steve rogers: leaving #( stop being mean to me bitch)

[sharcarters]

”  i’m just so fucking tired.  ”

@catalystsofchange

"You and me both." The words came fast. Nearly dismissive. But there was no humor in her eyes. Nothing that suggested this was the normal casual exchange where she ribbed him for no reason, dragging up anything and everything to irritate him. There was an unnatural pause where Sharon shifted, looking at him like she was hoping he'd notice something was off — hoping that he'd ask. (But he was tired. And god, if she couldn't relate to that.)

"You're gonna hate me here in two seconds." If he didn't already. Sharon pushed off the wall and then dropped a thumb drive on the table in front of him. "Remember how I said you can't stop my people? They're an idea. I'm an idea as long as only a handful of people know me and what I do." She tapped the thumb drive before pushing it towards him. "Someone wants to replace me. Which puts you in the line of fire."

#catalystsofchange #richard grayson: tired

[sharcarters]

[ text ]: I think our neighbour may have gone rabid.

@twentyninetynines

(✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): your neighbor (✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): don't start using "our" (✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): you're gonna give me hives. this shit isn't long term (✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): and yeah he probably is rabid (✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): i think he ate some bad sushi (✉️ ➡️ identity theft ): or he ate the poison, hard to tell

[sharcarters]

[ text ]: We all got really drunk and communally agreed Bucky Barnes was a ‘cute little button babe’.

@avengerofiron

(✉️ ➡️ aunt tony ): god i cannot WAIT to forward this to steve (✉️ ➡️ aunt tony ): can you imagine the look on his face? (✉️ ➡️ aunt tony ): disappointment? disgust? confusion? (✉️ ➡️ aunt tony ): i hope he takes the most offense to this

[sharcarters]

impulselantern​:

God, Simon could relate to that. It had been one thing after another lately, leaving him such little time to try to solve his situation that he scarcely bothered to try. He had a place to sleep at the end of the day, and right now? It seemed like he wasn’t in a position to ask for more than that. It seemed like Sharon was in the same boat. “Do you think my socks would even fit you? Our feet are different sizes, Sharon. You can have a pair, but they’re gonna come up to your knees.” It was a funny image, even if it came from a terrible thing they now knew they had in common. “Was he bothering you? I could fight Captain America, if you wanted me to. I might get, like, one whole punch in before he tossed me into the sun.” He was pretty sure there was nothing in her expression during her talk with Cap that could be described as bothered… at least, not in a way she’d need saving from. That was part of why he offered. Offering to fight Captain America when you knew there was no chance you’d actually have to go through with the promise was a great way to earn brownie points. “So it’s like… a frat house? With Captain America and his patriotic brother? You could make enough to buy an apartment by selling that story to the Bugle, Sharon.” He paused for a moment, expression shifting to something a little more serious. “Is it a money thing? You not having a place to stay?”

/

“My knees?” It sounded like it was one step away from being a weird scene with her in a schoolgirl outfit. And she knew that wasn’t what Simon had meant, but that was what she was imagining. (Maybe it would get Steve’s face red again — or she might hit another wall of annoyance.) “Anyway, I bet your socks have a bunch of holes in them. I want socks that keep the warmth in.” As far as going toe to toe with Steve for her? As funny as that would be to see, she’d hate to see him laid out on her account. Especially when she didn’t mind the attention from Steve. (And she had already created a different misunderstanding between him and Miguel.) “Appreciate the offer, but I’d rather step on his neck myself.” The story of Captain America’s living quarters would be one to sell to the press — but she doubted that she’d see the payout considering who she was. She’d be halfway through telling the story before she was replying to questions through gritted teeth. “No. Nothing to do with money.” Sharon shrugged vaguely. “The last place I lived wasn’t safe.” It felt more and more like a confession. Like opening a vulnerability to the chill December air, hoping that it didn’t get infected and fester. “Got involved with some shit I shouldn’t have.”

#impulselantern #simon baz: socks

[sharcarters]

There were few things in this world that Sharon didn't know about. And this was one of those things she had let gloss over her desk. An unopened file filled with notes about his past and what could have driven him to look like this. She could have opened that file. Probably should have. They had promised each other mutually assured destruction, and she had told herself that merely having the file filled with all his personal information was enough. But then moments like this happened where the only insight she had on him was physical cues. Things she did herself when things got... rough. Harder than normal. Confused. (In fact, she had worn that expression herself only a few short weeks ago.) "I'm sure I could dress it up in a way you'd think I should make it. And you'd accept it." Selling an apology was like selling anything else. It didn't always require honesty. It just required pretty words to be delivered in the right order.

"I had a home for a few weeks there," Sharon reminded him. She had lost it because of her own decisions. The shit she had gotten herself into backfiring in New York City — and now it felt like everything was out of control. (Or it would be if she didn't get her hand on it fast.) "It is what it is," she echoed. "Do you trust this place?"

“  i won’t say sorry because that just, falls flat. but if i could change it. i would.  ”  // @sharcarters

“Not really your apology to make.” Dick’s hands were fisted in his sweatpants, clenching and unclenching and Sharon shouldn’t be here. A few months ago, he would have kicked her out, might have even made vague threats that they both knew he wouldn’t follow up on because it was dark and he was sitting on his fire escape with bedhead and a dry mouth and she really had no reason to be in Bludhaven, anyway, but there was a level of something here now that made him almost relax as she approached. They weren’t friends, weren’t anything close to that, but… Dick almost trusted her now. More than he trusted people whose hands he would have put his life into only a few years ago. 

Sighing, he shifted so that he was laying down, back against the uncomfortable grated metal of the fire escape and staring up at her. “You know, I actually got a lot better at sleeping through the night for a while there. Managed to get a solid two, three hours out at a time. But this… It is what it is. Right?”

#catalystsofchange #richard grayson: places to trust

[sharcarters]

(✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): pretty sure if i get declared legally dead then i won't have to file taxes (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): i made a lot of money last year that i don't pay taxes on - this is honestly the best way to handle that. just dying. no one will know (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): unless someone is a fucking rat, daniel. (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): also i go by 'agent 13' most days anyway. can sharon carter come to the phone? no. why? because she's DEAD

[ text ]: I’m not responding to this because I have died. I’m dead. Dead people don’t answer texts. // @sharcarters

(✉️ ➡️ Sharon): I’m pretty sure you’re /not/ dead! (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): And before you go and have yourself legally declared dead to prove a point, you should know that getting legally declared alive again is, like, /super/ complicated! It took me weeks, Sharon. Weeks! Sometimes it /still/ causes problems! (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): So the simply solution is for you to answer my texts, really

#immortalweapon #danny rand: dead

[sharcarters]

[ text ]: I’m not responding to this because I have died. I’m dead. Dead people don’t answer texts.

@greatestarcher

(✉️ ➡️ katherine... ): was it clint? did he kill you? (✉️ ➡️ katherine... ): did he go full highlander and scream 'there can be only one'?

#greatestarcher #kate bishop: dead

[sharcarters]

catalystsofchange​:

“It never does,” Dick agreed quietly. All his life, throughout all the terrible things he’d seen and all the terrible things he’d been through, Dick still didn’t think anyone started bad. Even Tony Zucco hadn’t begun his life as a irredeemable murderer, despite how he may have ended up. And Sharon was certainly no Tony Zucco. No matter how frustrated Dick might have been, no matter how little he trusted her, he still knew that. “Then maybe you need to change your perspective,” he shot back. Then, with a sigh, “Maybe we both do.” They’d both been fighting, since Madripoor, and refusing to see things from the other person’s point of view. It hadn’t gotten them anywhere yet, and Dick didn’t see that changing any time soon. Alfred used to talk about doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, used to remind them all in a dry tone what the very definition of insanity was. Alfred was very rarely wrong.

Dick swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment. He was frustrated — they both were. But he’d been so unfair to her in the past, and there was no way to grow from that. There was no way to change things without being willing to take a step in a different direction. “It matters,” he told her, and he meant it. “Look, if I ask somebody else? They’re gonna lie to me. They’re gonna cushion it, or try to paint themselves in a better light. You won’t do that. You don’t care enough about me or my opinion of you to bother with a lie. I know that. What I feel is on me. Not you.”

She said she couldn’t give him the truth, but Dick got the feeling she wanted to. This wasn’t her holding back because she didn’t want him to have all the cards, because she wanted a leg up on him. This was her trying to protect someone else. (Helena, if he had to guess.) And Dick knew all about that. He’d been fighting to protect everyone else for as long as he could remember. “A lot of things could be made better by people just… Having a conversation,” he agreed. Offering her a small smile, he let the implication hang that this was probably one of them. “I’ve never killed anyone,” he said, though he doubted it was something that would surprise her. “But I’ve come close. And just about the closest I ever came was Tony Zucco. Personally? I don’t think anything could convince me to team up with people like that… but I could see reasons why someone else might.” Someone like Helena, who had always wanted vengeance in a way Dick understood a little more than he’d like to. Things were starting to fall into place, just a little. 

/

If they weren’t arguing about one thing — they were about another. It was a rotating track where they refused to agree with each other even when they did agree. So, when Dick said that maybe she needed to change her perception, she rolled her eyes again, about to tell him that maybe it was him that needed changing — but he amended. They both did. Maybe it was time to agree. “First thing you’ve said since I met your that actually sounds right.” A bold face lie, but an allowance. An agreement. She’d try if he did. (And if it fell through, then nothing was really lost, now was it?)

But that didn’t mean she was eager to violate Helena’s trust. The entire situation felt so far out of hand that Sharon didn’t know up from down anymore — and she was one of the best spies in the world. “That doesn’t mean that it’s my story to tell.” But he was worried. He cared. And Helena had shut out the entire world but her, and Sharon… she had been there. In Madripoor when she was throwing Steve on his ass and making enemies of nearly everyone in the city. She had a friend like Dick and she treated him the same way he said he would be if he went right to the source.

“She wants to take them on from the inside. Ruin their business and disrupt what she can so she knows what voids she’ll be leaving when she takes them out permanently.” It wasn’t a perfect situation, but it was the only way that Sharon could justify the length they had been doing this — there would be a giant void when those families collapsed, and any number of other games and families could step up to fill that gap and become even more powerful. At least this way they could measure how much trouble they’d be in. (She had to keep repeating to herself that they knew what they were doing, but it wasn’t lost on Sharon what all of this looked like on the outside.) “She could have done this alone,” Sharon added, glancing at Dick as she waited for his reaction, carefully deciding if he was going to attack her for this or not — she didn’t think so. Despite butting heads at every turn, Dick was a good person. Genuinely. And his hands were clean in a way that Sharon’s would never be. “I thought it would be safer if she had someone on her side with her.” Another beat. “That shootout you heard about, that wasn’t us turning on you or anyone like you. That was us making sure we didn’t get a bullet to the head on the way back in.” Another pause, another consideration. “If I wanted them dead, they’d be dead. I think we both know that.”

#catalystsofchange #richard grayson: rumors #gun shot mention tw #injury mention tw

[sharcarters]

catalystsofchange​:

(✉️ ➡️ pb, no j): mostly in case i need to represent myself in court, actually. you’d be surprised how hard it is to get a lawyer in gotham who doesn’t moonlight as a supervillain. (✉️ ➡️ pb, no j): it was a very small cookie! and i didn’t even know he was /home./ 

[…] (✉️ ➡️ pb, no j): glad to know i’m leaving a lasting impression (✉️ ➡️ pb, no j): come on, you can’t give me a lecture when you’re always threatening to shoot me! that’s just not fair.

(✉️ ➡️ asswing ): /what/ (✉️ ➡️ asswing ): i'm not laughing but i am laughing. i know criminals as lawyers isn't a new thing, otherwise the mob would have been taken out a long time ago (✉️ ➡️ asswing ): but /damn/, you guys need to invest in a matt murdock for gotham (✉️ ➡️ asswing ): excuses.

[...] (✉️ ➡️ asswing ): you should be glad i even remember your name. lots of important things going on in my head (✉️ ➡️ asswing ): i am a woman of many faces

#catalystsofchange #richard grayson: alarms

[sharcarters]

catalystsofchange​:

(✉️ ➡️ pb, no j): i’m speaking perfect english! you’re just misunderstanding me to be mean (✉️ ➡️ pb, no j): okay, then the answer is “lots of times.” (✉️ ➡️ pb, no j): more or less, yeah (✉️ ➡️ pb, no j): okay, but don’t come crying to me when he throws a molotov cocktail through your window. he’s mean (✉️ ➡️ pb, no j): i’d love to see you use them sometime

(✉️ ➡️ asswing ): i would /never/ do that :) (✉️ ➡️ asswing ): i'm going to tell him you told me he failed a /lot of times/ (✉️ ➡️ asswing ): like his style though (✉️ ➡️ asswing ): ha! i don't have a window. he can't throw shit through it if i don't have a place (✉️ ➡️ asswing ): nah. i know how easily you startle and i'd hate to cause you any undue stress

#catalystsofchange #richard grayson: think