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                       ( @tokillabarton​┊liked ‹ › for stuff )

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               “ didn’t think i’d ever see you again. “

          new york city is an metallic, concrete forest. densely populated & vast,
          no two strangers ever seem to come across one another again. generally
          speaking, of course, since variables & exceptions should always be
          accounted for. one gaunt hand shakily slithers up along the exterior of
          some establishment as an attempt at keeping her world from tumbling
          sideways. by all accounts, jessica looks pathetic in her drunken stupor.
          but she’s only a few blocks away from that shitty little nest
          she calls home. she can make it.

               “ i smell like shit, look like shit & i’m one shot away from blackin’ out.
                 so unless you wanna deal with this mess, i suggest you steer clear
                 tonight. name’s jessica jones. google me. or don’t. i don’t care. “

tokillabarton:

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              hilarious, really.      “ 
       and there’s the how i met your mother one. nice.
       forty-two years of puns and he couldn’t have had any better.
       doesn’t mean he’s not going to accept the booze.

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               “ just a heads up, if you take the joke an extra mile
                 & start wearing purple, i might have to
                 snap your neck or something. “

          sounds like a joke, probably should be, but middle aged men
          & lavendar shades kind of set her on edge these days. lilac
          flashes, neon signs – fingertips at the crook of her neck &
          a whisper in the back of her bind, barreling to the forefront. 

          been a while since her last episode,
          no need to go inadvertently stumbling
          back into traumatic recollections. 

               “ i’ll place a liquor-bet on you havin’ an interesting story.
                 guy like you doesn’t end up the way he is by
                 spending most of his life behind a desk. “

tokillabarton:

AKAKNIGHTRESS.

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             honestly, yer not th’first person t’do th’dino joke.    
        THAT CERTAINLY
does not mean he’s not sick of all the puns.

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               “ wasn’t trying to be original,
                 stinson, i just drew
                 a comparison. “

          isn’t often that she’s willing to part with even a
          meager amount of liquor, but she slides a
          glass across the table to him anyways. 

tokillabarton:

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         even with a distracted mind, he notices the blood on her hands,
         the lack of struggle in the finished chaos behind them, and her
         drinking whatever was inside the shot glass like it’s water.
         1) she’s used to this.
         2) she’s a hell of a fighter.

                oh. good t’know. those idiots fried my brain.    

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          throwing punches doesn’t mean she’s a skilled
          fighter – on the contrary, she’s quite poor at it.
          unfair advantages just make things a little bit
          easier to do, taking care of SELF-ABSORBED
          douchebags included. resting the weight of her
          torso on the long bar table, she reaches over
          the counter & snatches a bottle, filling her glass. 

               “ yeah. i guess they don’t like it when
                 their masculinity feels threatened. “

tokillabarton:

@akaknightress. ( x )

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        oh no, i ain’t joinin’ this goddamn bar fight.    

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          fair skinned knuckles dabbed with crimson,
          blood of a vein that isn’t her own. down the
          hatch goes a shot & she’s unflinching,
          taking it like water as she eases
          into the seat next to him. 

               “ it’s already over. “

ÐØ