<center><link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Nothing+You+Could+Do&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><div style="width: 500px; background:linear-gradient(to top, rgba(235,235,240,0) 500px,rgba(235,235,240,1) 800px),url('https://i.postimg.cc/rmgVLwKC/52-CE29-FB-83-B3-47-AA-85-AF-79-DDF90-A03-B7.jpg')bottom center no-repeat,#EBEBF0;padding:0px 0px 700px 0px;box-shadow: 0px 0px 8px 1px; border: 1px solid #273137;"><div style="text-align:center;font:20px 'Nothing You Could Do', serif;color:#283238; padding:15px;line-height:75%;">she fell for the idea of him<br>and ideas were a dangerous thing to love</div><div style="opacity:0.9;width:450px;text-align:justify;padding:10px;font:12px 'Times', serif;color:#000;background:#C5D2DF;box-shadow:0px 0px 12px 0px;border:1px solid #273137;">He is looking at her like she’s lying, or withholding something, and it makes her pulse quicken. She has so many faults – most of them thanks to that foolish heart of hers – but being a liar has never been one of them. She wonders if she should say something else, if her answer wasn’t sufficient, but her tongue can’t seem to form the words. She is standing there, watching him in a way that is somehow both unsure yet unwavering, her unspoken thoughts hanging like a tense thread between them, until he seems to decide – or pretends to, at least – that she was telling the truth.
The tension that brims beneath her skin loosens at his touch, but there is still a guardedness to her eyes when she looks at him. She thinks if he was still mad he would have left her by now, but the fact that he lingers sets her on edge in that peculiar way that only he can – where she is somehow afraid and yet running never crosses her mind.
It’s an addiction, a kind of sickness, where she can’t help but to want to see it through to the end. To be here and willing and obedient until he gets whatever it is he wants, all the while hoping that it isn’t the last time.
He says that for a moment he wasn’t sure if he could bring her back, and she remembers the shield that Gail had cast over them. She doesn’t say anything at first, because she had been doubtful of whether or not Gail’s powers had actually worked; she had simply assumed that Carnage wasn’t bringing her back. But he continues, and she can feel fresh nerves tying themselves into knots in her chest, and she is quiet when she cautiously counters what he says, “I wasn’t trying to disobey you. I didn’t…<i>feel</i> you when I was there.”
There is more that she wants to say, more that she thinks she is <I>supposed</I> to say, but she falters. She assumes he knows of what Gail can do, that he does not need her to explicitly state that it was because of her that he could not bring her back, but she again feels as though she is treading a thin line between being again in his good graces, or angering him again. “She told me to close my eyes, so I did.”
</div><div style="font: 30px 'Nothing You Could Do', serif; color: #283238;text-align:right;padding-right:25px;">ryatah</div></div></div>
much like carnage, I am benevolent and understanding, so I forgive you.
The tension that brims beneath her skin loosens at his touch, but there is still a guardedness to her eyes when she looks at him. She thinks if he was still mad he would have left her by now, but the fact that he lingers sets her on edge in that peculiar way that only he can – where she is somehow afraid and yet running never crosses her mind.
It’s an addiction, a kind of sickness, where she can’t help but to want to see it through to the end. To be here and willing and obedient until he gets whatever it is he wants, all the while hoping that it isn’t the last time.
He says that for a moment he wasn’t sure if he could bring her back, and she remembers the shield that Gail had cast over them. She doesn’t say anything at first, because she had been doubtful of whether or not Gail’s powers had actually worked; she had simply assumed that Carnage wasn’t bringing her back. But he continues, and she can feel fresh nerves tying themselves into knots in her chest, and she is quiet when she cautiously counters what he says, “I wasn’t trying to disobey you. I didn’t…<i>feel</i> you when I was there.”
There is more that she wants to say, more that she thinks she is <I>supposed</I> to say, but she falters. She assumes he knows of what Gail can do, that he does not need her to explicitly state that it was because of her that he could not bring her back, but she again feels as though she is treading a thin line between being again in his good graces, or angering him again. “She told me to close my eyes, so I did.”
</div><div style="font: 30px 'Nothing You Could Do', serif; color: #283238;text-align:right;padding-right:25px;">ryatah</div></div></div>
much like carnage, I am benevolent and understanding, so I forgive you.