luther "the big shy one" hargreeves | #00.01 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
obediences) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capencowl20202020-01-19 01:03 pm
obediences) wrote in capencowl20202020-01-19 01:03 pm
for i am born to be what i must be and i must be.
WHO: Luther Hargreeves & you!
WHAT: A government enforcer, obedient to the wrong people because at least they weren’t as bad as his last authority figure.
WHEN: Catch-all for throughout the plot, will add prompts as needed
WHERE: In the streets, at government facilities, with his team of fellow enforcers, at home, wherever.
After a decade in the City, Luther Hargreeves knows how this dog-and-pony show goes.
The meta known as Space is a steady and reliable appearance at public events throughout the month: he smiles politely for photos, he haunts the Archangel Gabriel’s side as a bodyguard, and he parrots the right words, the PR lines he’s been drilled into saying, the party line. Order and stability is more important than ever these days, now that the Porter’s spewing chaos back into their well-ordered life.
Or so they say. Or so they tell him.
You can find him working security, most likely, or watching the celebrations with more hawk-like attention than cheer (probably keeping an eye open for trouble). Parades, parties both public and private, his schedule’s packed with them all.
The truth is, though, that they’re stretched thin. Pulling long hours, doing the usual work of hunting the resistance, but also trying to track down new metas now, all the ones who slipped through their net when the Porter started working in overdrive.
His teammates can start to sense the change in the air when Luther’s stomping around the government complex, glowering at their map on the wall with pins of known resistance activity, or throwing himself into obsessive training and punching the punching bags a bit too hard until they spill stuffing all over the floor. Even the Ratification streamers hung (in an obligatory sort of fashion) around the office don’t improve his mood much.
get @ me! i'm on plurk at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
quadrille if u wanna plot or if you want me to add a personalised starter for you :> will match prose or brackets, too.
also of note: he’s still 6’5”, but looks human in this AU and doesn’t have his half-ape physiology!
WHAT: A government enforcer, obedient to the wrong people because at least they weren’t as bad as his last authority figure.
WHEN: Catch-all for throughout the plot, will add prompts as needed
WHERE: In the streets, at government facilities, with his team of fellow enforcers, at home, wherever.
[ RATIFICATION CELEBRATION | OTA ]
After a decade in the City, Luther Hargreeves knows how this dog-and-pony show goes.
The meta known as Space is a steady and reliable appearance at public events throughout the month: he smiles politely for photos, he haunts the Archangel Gabriel’s side as a bodyguard, and he parrots the right words, the PR lines he’s been drilled into saying, the party line. Order and stability is more important than ever these days, now that the Porter’s spewing chaos back into their well-ordered life.
Or so they say. Or so they tell him.
You can find him working security, most likely, or watching the celebrations with more hawk-like attention than cheer (probably keeping an eye open for trouble). Parades, parties both public and private, his schedule’s packed with them all.
[ GOVERNMENT TEAMBUILDING | OPEN TO OTHER ENFORCER PALS ]
The truth is, though, that they’re stretched thin. Pulling long hours, doing the usual work of hunting the resistance, but also trying to track down new metas now, all the ones who slipped through their net when the Porter started working in overdrive.
His teammates can start to sense the change in the air when Luther’s stomping around the government complex, glowering at their map on the wall with pins of known resistance activity, or throwing himself into obsessive training and punching the punching bags a bit too hard until they spill stuffing all over the floor. Even the Ratification streamers hung (in an obligatory sort of fashion) around the office don’t improve his mood much.
[ WILDCARD ]
get @ me! i'm on plurk at
also of note: he’s still 6’5”, but looks human in this AU and doesn’t have his half-ape physiology!
no subject
"You might have a point. I like the ones with explosions in them, can you blame me," Luther says, his voice canted to that careful lightness as well, amusement simmering underneath the words. He knows what she means. She knows what he means, and they're toying with the very edge of it. He's had a decade to grow even more possessive of her, for the two of them to grow together like a tangled vine. For Luther to want to rip the head off anyone who even tried to get too close to her. He didn't ever have to share; she was already his.
no subject
"Mhmm." Is the first sound -- because they needed no one to gauge, had no one to guard them, and the world had given them little reason to pause for over a decade -- while her eyes went one way, looking decidedly more amused, and her face went the other, with stoic and mocking disappointment. "Like all the other little boys and their toys. So disappointing."
When it was anything but. When this might be a joke, but that's all it was, too. They were both possessive of each other, of the life they'd carved out here. Both doing this and when the days were done, and all the costumes could be put away. They might have been possessive, yes, but they'd never found a real reason to be jealous. Luther had known even before they came here that not only had she dreamed of acting, she was already good, with only their father in her way.
In a way, Luther never had been. Ever would have been, or ever would be. Nor that she'd ever want him to feel a need to. That it made her happy was all he'd ever cared about with it. There might have been a half dozen fabricated love stories her face was a part of, but she'd never so much as even considered any of those men -- even when they'd made it abundantly clear they would like to be -- since the first time Luther had kissed her. Though, honestly, it went back further than that even. So far back, she couldn't even say where it began. How long before they'd ever even hesitated at a touch, broken childhood rules.
(But, even then, even when it did happen, she told him. Usually, the same day or so.
It wasn't even that she told him because it might evoke some response from him, that day or any other later. She told him, because they didn't have secrets, and they both told each other about the great and small things that happened in the few days or hours they were ever actually apart, even though they still talked during at times. Because he was the love of her life, but he had started as and would always be, her best friend and confidant, too.
Both the person who could be told without ever wondering if she was tempted, or trying to manipulate them, but also who would listen in case the coming weeks meant it might become silted and unbalanced on her sets, or even, in the worst cases, a frustrating impediment at her job or to public appearances for the films depending on how that person took their brushoff, too.)
end
Like a pair of big cats no longer on the prowl, all languid grace and coiled power but knowing that they no longer have to use it. Letting themselves come down off that bloodied adrenaline, the buzzing in their veins of another fight done and survived and excelled. This world doesn't do do-overs. They don't have Five to rewind the clock, they don't have a working Porter to undo death. It means each battle is particularly ferocious, another championing over death. They're not kids anymore — they're old enough and wise enough, they know they're not invincible — but god, it's still so easy to feel that way when they're by each others' sides. Unstoppable.
At least this one, they won.
Home? he mouths to her, an eyebrow arched.
And so. They go home.