#criticalfai1ure

[strangcmatters]

@criticalfai1ure / max

“D’y’think he’ll even — y’know — talk to me?” It doesn’t matter that Peg assured her he wants to apologize, doesn’t matter that he left a message saying he wants to talk. Doubt still niggles at the back of her mind. She meets her own eyes in the mirror, chewing on her lip, wondering if Bash will even be able to tell how badly the last few weeks have treated her — how badly she’s treated herself. She needs every inch of her armor to do this, but she’s lost enough weight that it doesn’t quite fit right anymore. Her corset nearly closes in the back, and the belt of her dress is cinched tighter than usual. Her makeup is carefully chosen and applied, though no amount of concealer could fully cover the dark shadows under her eyes. Perhaps she’s being a little overly optimistic with the dark red lip stain, but she justifies the choice as the closest match she has to her dress.

She presses her lips together and turns to Max. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

#criticalfai1ure #criticalfai1ure / max #past / what is past is prologue #replies / i am not bound to please thee with my answer #( bc fuckin fite me that's why ) #( good day for a make up don't you think )

[piraticalwit]

@criticalfai1ure said: “This is gonna be fun! We can stay up late, swapping manly stories, and in the morning… I’m making waffles”

He's tired, muscles aching after a two day investigation and thoughts turned onto nothing else but the promise of sleep. The ground beneath him shifts with that weary vertigo borne from fatigue and Killian all but trips trying to right himself. Bloody hell... the curse is a whisper under his breath, a huff of air that could have been nothing but wind as gloved fingers press down on the other man's shoulder, forcing him into the passenger seat of the detective's car. A stolen moment, a pause for breath as his forehead presses against the cool steel (good girl), rough lips muttering a prayer for patience... and then the Irishman is squinting in the orange glare of the setting sun, long strides carrying him to his own place behind the wheel.

Hugo is still talking - had he even bloody noticed he was alone? - and Killian sets his jaw against the urge to finally snap. Instead, he settles for a yawn, an attempt at guilt that no doubt will entirely miss its mark, before interrupting his companions words with a few of his own. "Hugo, mate - listen, I ... Hu - Hugo!" The name is a bark of sound, sharper in the tight interior than Killian means it to be, and blue eyes wince slightly, flickering to catch his passenger's profile before returning to the road. "Sorry, mate, it's just that .. Christ, I'm so fucking tired. I'm not even supposed to be working right now, you know? We're not swapping anything, you daft git. I'm going home. To sleep. Where I should have been hours ago. But first I'm going to take your sorry arse to the station where you'll no doubt be able to swap all the stories you want with the gits you meet there."

That should be the end of it. There's nothing else to it. He repeats it to himself for the next thirty seconds, reminding the part of him that is stupid enough to be curious that he'll regret any questions within two minutes of them falling out of his mouth .. and yet... " I'm going to regret asking this, but ... Why'd you steal that elderly woman's dog? The report from the neighbor said she was practically frantic. That's not like you, aye?"

He's going to regret every bit of this, he knows it. The certainty is as present as the beat of the heart within his chest... but the Irishman can't help the sudden swerve into a nearby car park, tongue pressing to the inside of one cheek as he gestures to the sign ahead of them. 24 Hour Breakfast. Somewhere his bed is waiting, clean and cool and all but begging him to come home ...

Bloody hell.

#criticalfai1ure #killian is so done but i am HOWLING #v. breaking chains

[tartt9]

@criticalfai1ure asked //

"I wanna fucking strangle you right now." from roy <3 [ from here ! ]

"Bet you do, old man." The smirk on Jamie's face is smug - he knows exactly what he's done, and he knows Roy knows exactly what he's done. He takes a step closer to Roy, then another step. He whistles Roy's famous tune as quiet as one can whistle - he's here, he's there, he's every-fucking-where... His eyes never leave Roy's. "You just won't do anything about it. Aside from make empty threats, of course." He takes one more step closer - very clearly in Roy's personal space, now. "Unless y'wanna prove me wrong..."

#criticalfai1ure [ roy ] #criticalfai1ure #answered ! #is this s1? s2? s3? pre-show? post-show? an au? who's to say !!!!

[navarchus]

JAMES NORRINGTON. @criticalfai1ure said : “i've no reason to lie.” from james!!

THERE WAS A TIME WHEN SHE WOULD HAVE TRUSTED JAMES NORRINGTON WITHOUT QUESTION. in a former life the man was a bastion of honor and DECENCY, almost too stiff with the navy's ideals like a WOODEN SOLDIER, unbending, unmoving, even when passion asked him to. but now, well. one could not survive in the world they had made without a little bit of TENDER TREACHERY. he had done what he'd needed to to survive. hadn't they all ?

❛❛   I should hope not. I am your sovereign.  ❜❜

her jaw set. there were always whispers just out of earshot, accusing their Achilles of a FEEBLE HEEL. she had drug the fox to the henhouse, they said, the once-scourge of the Caribbean, Cutler Beckett's own lapdog –– and old habits died hard, after all. of course he was the FIRST TO BE SUSPECTED whenever any death, suspicious or no, occurred within the sacred walls of Shipwreck Cove. often, always unfairly. but this time ... she had seen his hackles raise when Icahn Bau named him nothing more than the Pirate King's pet, brown eyes solemn witness to the slew of empty green GREEN bottles in his quarters, and as to his whereabouts this evening, when one of Ammand's corsairs was discovered with a gash in the back of his neck ? for once she could not name the location of her own right hand, a phantom limb disjointed from the rest of its body.

but something in her gave. much as she'd been DETERMINED to play the righteous king with him, to not let her feelings stand in the way of her DUTIES ... but then, she'd never been much good at that.

❛❛   James. I cannot defend you if I ... ❜❜ she stopped. swallowed. looked away and back again, pleading. ❛❛ do not ask me to live without my assurance of you. don't.   ❜❜

#criticalfai1ure #criticalfai1ure: james norrington #<3 enjoy these two traumatized pirates #v: post awe. ⟊⚔⟊ || : when our truth is burned from history，by those who figure justice in fond memory，witness me. #answered. ⟊⚔⟊ || : ye come seekin’ adventure and salty old pirates，eh? #meme response. ⟊⚔⟊ || : it be too late to alter course，mateys.

[terrorpenned]

SWEARING LIKE A SAILOR. AUGUST VAN DE HOEK. @criticalfai1ure said: “that's bullshit and you know it.” auggie @ gore

❛❛ A MATCH BENEATH EACH FINGERNAIL. haven't you heard the story ? numbs the hands for murder, Captain. ❜❜

WITH A SIDEWAYS SMILE, the captain places a few callused fingertips over their table's open flame ––  as if to prove his point. blue, blue eyes never waver from August's face as the pain blisters and flesh reddens and he shows his teeth in something between a wince and a smile. and then it fades away. a few moments of suffering and strife for a world of pleasure. ( at least, that is what he has been telling himself for the last forty years. ) satisfied with the show of endurance, Gore flexes his fingers, the old knuckles creaking like storm-stressed wood, scar tissue rippling. who's to say if he strengthened himself with SPELLS AND INCANTATIONS ? for a captain liked to a demon from the mouth of hell, it would hardly be the strangest accusation.

with his left hand, he reaches now for his tankard of gin and swigs until the fire within sparks a heat fit to quell the fire without. whether it works or not is of no consequence. his hands, his heart, and the rest of him, are all LONG NUMBED.

❛❛ they take such rituals to heart in New France. Vaudou priestesses, and the like. ❜❜

#he belongs in a hot topic regional manager's office not a pirate ship. #criticalfai1ure #criticalfai1ure: august van de hoek #answered. #ic: captain gore. #meme response.

[b4ldurians-archive]

@criticalfai1ure : bérénice

♡'d : hope

MAYBE SHE SHOULDN'T BE STARING SO BLATANTLY , but hope can't help it. her eyes follow the training motions in their fluidity like a cat watching a bird through a window. she's impressed , curious , &. altogether wonders how the hells someone can do this over &. over again. it makes her arms hurt just looking at her.

❝ bernie , do you ever , like. sleep ? or do you just work out all day when you're at camp ? ❞

#hope / interaction : dance little liar ! #criticalfai1ure #local sorcerer wants local knight to chillax more at 11

[lcfthaunted]

@criticalfai1ure • august

The crew of de Vlinder took her hostage three months ago. She has no complaints from her stay; the captain has been nothing short of a gentleman to her, even giving up his bed to give her something approaching the comforts she is accustomed to. She has even come to like the few members of the crew she interacts with regularly; Kees is a delight, a gentle presence that sets her at ease, somehow. Ingvild is a bracing breath of fresh air, and Mazie’s most frequent companion as the only other woman aboard. Pascal is a bright reminder of childhood summers in Bordeaux and she greatly delights in their French conversations, though it has made her conscious of an ache she has ignored for two decades. Still, the longer her husband’s silence stretches, the less at ease Mazie feels, waiting for the inevitable ending.

The ship comes into port, and Mazie entertains for half a heartbeat trying to escape, but she knows whomever finds her will likely not treat her half as well as de Vlinder has. So she stays aboard, sitting in the back window as the crew attends to other duties on land. Her mind has drifted, embroidery lying forgotten in her lap, when the captain returns. It is difficult to pull her attention back, and she is already unfolding from her seat and offering to leave so he can use his office when her eyes fall on the letter in the captain’s hand. She would, unfortunately, recognize that seal anywhere.

It is like the air is sucked from the room. She is struck silent and still for several long heartbeats, afraid to look at the captain’s face for confirmation of her worst fears. Quietly, “He has refused to pay the ransom, hasn’t he.” It is not a question. She is too aware of her husband’s decisions to believe this could have played out any other way. Her eyes close as she attempts to wrestle her composure into place before her gaze finally lifts to his. “So what is to happen next?” She braces for the worst, not expecting the pirate to let her continue taking space and resources on his ship.

#criticalfai1ure #criticalfai1ure • august #& the water when your ship rolled in • duchess #grabbed a pen and an old napkin • responses #( /leaves teeth marks on these two )

[reapxrs]

@criticalfai1ure | max

Daisy releases a silent sigh of relief when she finds Max in the lounge. Blanket around her shoulders and trailing slightly behind her, she shuffles over to him, rounding the end of the couch and dropping down next to him. Wordlessly, she curls up in a ball, pulling her blanket around herself, and tucks herself against his side. “Bad dream,” is her only whispered explanation – she finds it extremely difficult to speak after these nightmares, and being able to say even that much is surprising.

#criticalfai1ure #criticalfai1ure | max #look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now | daisy #look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now | daisy | ic #v; the bow of a ship headed for a new land | space #( /offers daisy to her space dad ) #pick up a pen start writing | threads

[champagneprobllems]

Julieta would like it known she would Very Much like to see Max beat the shit out of some ice agents. Tito is already making popcorn.

#criticalfai1ure #( i have no intention of watching pic s2 but i can watch That Gif for *ages* ) #juli * do the work that matters vale la pena

[painofhumanity]

@criticalfai1ure liked Maggie's starter call

"Sooo apparently when we've reached the point where, if we don't call to place an order every few days, the restaurant calls us to make sure we're okay," Maggie informed Tad. "I would say that we order from them too often, but they have really good garlic bread, and I'm not willing to give that up."

#{👻} maggie crane ; threads #criticalfai1ure #closed starter

[strangcmatters]

@criticalfai1ure / bash

"S'pose it's only fair you gotta go on a job today, of all days." She turns back to him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Beware Romans with knives, babe."

#criticalfai1ure #criticalfai1ure / bash #past / what is past is prologue #replies / i am not bound to please thee with my answer #( -blows u a kiss- happy ides )

[babydxhl]

@criticalfai1ure | starter call.

"Huey." She clings to his fingertips with both her own hands, wheedling, tiptoes scuffing the gravel. "You gotta help me out."

For a while the dark of the backroads had been enough to hide it — now, under the single humming, bug-crowded bulb of the warehouse lot, there's no denying. The car looks like shit. Bullet holes riddle the sides. A thin line of steam leaks from beneath the hood, and a glittering carpet of glass shards lays across the back seat where a stray shot had taken out a window.

But more than all that — slumped across the steering wheel is the hulking form of a dead man, the light catching the unmistakable starched white of an Arkham orderly uniform.

"C'mon." She stretches the word out. C'moooooon. "You never let me down before."

#criticalfai1ure #lmk if this doesn't work my love xx

[heartsdefine]

↪ memes — accepting!

@criticalfai1ure said: ❛ pinky promise? ❜ from henry for wy

        "...you're joking, right?" Wynonna eyes Henry's extended hand, pinky out per his request. "You want me to pinky promise not to die? I'm not sure I can even do that."

#re; wynonna earp. ( reckless is kind of my brand ) #ic; wynonna. #answers; wynonna. #criticalfai1ure #criticalfai1ure (henry) #v; wynonna main. ( that's why they call it a curse ) #int; wynonna & henry.

[widowshill]

OSCAR ARCHIBALD RICKETTS. @criticalfai1ure for r/v au.

THERE'S SOMETHING LIKE HOPE AGAIN, living in her skin, giving color to the blood worn thin & blue by those long nights at Collinwood. much as she has tried to talk herself out of that foolish romanticism, as if she has any reason to suspect this engagement will fare any better than the others. she doesn't. and in all likelihood, knowing the marital fates that await those on top of the hill, A LOGICAL MIND would suspect that this marriage might very well end worse, and she had best prepare herself to weather that unwelcome fate. but that does not keep the grin from her cheeks, silly though it is. even her WORST misgivings do not outweigh the gravity of diamond on her finger, and the ghosts cannot distract her from its gleam. even the antics of her student ––  her son, soon to be ! ––  cannot upset her, for it is the very qualifier that redeems him.

she supposes the shine will dull by the time the wedding date arrives. all the glee of a betrothal tarnished in the oxide of the courtroom, in the long, unpleasant days ahead of their respective annulments. and perhaps that is true. but for now, the future Mrs. Collins summons wayward scholar more eagerly than she ever has, for the history of Maine has never looked brighter than when she is to be written into it. she gives four knocks at the old, salt-kissed wood of the door.

❝ Archie, oh, I'm sorry to trouble you. David's run off, have you seen him ? he's so curious about the lighthouse, I thought he might have come here. ❞

the face of the spectral keeper is thinner than last she saw him, whiter, too. that ought to be normal, for one in his profession, but her brows draw lower nonetheless, though politesse keeps her from remarking on his health. I should check in on him more regularly. it's what the MISTRESS OF THE HOUSE would do, anyway. and no better time than the present to start practicing.

❝ I've a mind to put a leash on him next time. he won't escape his English lessons then. ❞

#criticalfai1ure #criticalfai1ure: o.a.r. #➤ ic: victoria winters. ┊ the governess. #➤ arc: mrs. collins. ┊ collinwood will always mean home to me. #wrote too much lol no need to match <3

[terrorpenned]

PARADISE LOST. / OSCAR ARCHIBALD RICKETTS. @criticalfai1ure said: ❝Solitude sometimes is best society, ❞ archie @ vicki

❝ you'll do just fine here, then, Mister Ricketts. ❞

SHE GRINS AT HIM, DESPITE THE HOWL OF THE WIND AND THE WIDOWS IN HER EARS. it's a cold and lonely place, Collinsport, for so long empty of people and of life ( and too full of the dead to make any room for the living. ) it's a wonder any stranger chooses to call the little fishing village their home. but you did, didn't you ? and have. it will do them all well to have a little LIGHT in the bay, literal and metaphysical, the warmth of fire and the glow of glass staving off the loneliness and the onward rush of MODERNITY to a people and a place all but frozen in time. or so they'd like to be.

❝ there's not much else society to be had, unless you count the ghosts. ❞

Miss Winters sets aside her little welcome basket –– raspberries and fresh cut lillies from the greenhouse, a sweet peach pie from the Evans cottage, even a bottle of brandy (small enough that Roger deigned to sacrifice it on hospitality) –– a collection of little luxuries almost nice enough to be called a BRIBE. do stay. their bite isn't ALL THAT BAD, really. not once you get to know them. more like a friendly nibble now and again.

❝ you must have gotten used to it by now, though. Mrs. Stoddard said you were a lighthouse keeper in England, is that right ? ❞

#ms victoria 'obsessed with the past' winters when an englishman moves in to operate the historical lighthouse: 👀 #kicking my feet #criticalfai1ure #criticalfai1ure: O.A.R. #ic: victoria winters. #answered. #meme response.

[spxnglr]

NOT SOMETHING ONE WOULD TYPICALLY FIND AT A CONVENIENCE STORE AT 2:00AM. On the very rare occasion that the Firehouse walls began to confine him, he'd almost always venture for a walk (Janine was always telling him that he needed to go outside for reasons that weren't work-related, a very difficult task for someone who literally lived to work) and it just so happened that, this time round, he was out of Twinkies.

SPORTING THE DEMEANOUR OF SOMEONE WHO WAS LESS THAN INTERESTED IN BEING SOCIABLE, HE'D TAKEN THE FIRST AND ONLY ITEM HE NEEDED FROM THE BACK AISLE WITHOUT A WORD. Fishing in his pockets for his wallet, his attention was soon snatched by the faint noise of dripping. A glance up, then around, and it finally settled on a dark purple ectoplasmic residue oozing from one of the ceiling lights. Then sensing a presence, instinct compelled him to extend an arm, stopping the individual in their tracks.

❝ Keep your distance for now. It might not be safe. ❞

@criticalfai1ure (HENRY) || 𝚂𝙲.

#𝙲𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙽' 𝚄𝙿 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙽. (MAIN) #criticalfai1ure #hello! hope this is all good :D