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@apocvlypsed
hey everyone! i’ve been on hiatus because of school and things have been crazy. that being said -- i am able to write for a bit tonight and i’m going to try my absolute best to get online at least a couple times a week during the semester! i am gonna do a clean slate with threads, so if you want to start something up, shoot me a message and we can get something rolling!
xoxo gossip linc
Thomas Doherty for Wonderland Mag
In the end oh it feels like a dream Ooh, ooh, ooh Someday we’ll find out what it means Bye bye darling
@everlonqs liked for a starter !
“ feel free to tell me to shut up about this, ” casey said as he burrowed further under their current pile of blankets. “ i feel like i’ve talked your ear off about milo tonight. i just... sometimes i wonder how he’s real, y’know? ” sometimes he wondered how he’d gotten so lucky, to fall for someone who happened to fall for him, too. “ do you think it’s a dumb idea? to make a... compilation of our moments? i dunno. i feel like doing something to commemorate our six-month. but... i don’t want him to think that it’s some kind of cynical... roll the credits type of thing. ” leave it to casey to find a way to cite the asteroid without ever mentioning it by name. “ sorry. that’s kinda... i dunno. i’m not good at all this, mil. ” the relationship part, the inevitable death of the planet thing. the not knowing when to shut about about his boyfriend thing. casey snagged a twizzler and popped it into his glass, using it as a makeshift straw. “ you want one? ” he asked, raising the package in question.
kitwillis:
kit had gotten used to his busy schedule and this was his least busy day of the week, really. not that he’d freed up time so he could hang around the gym a bit longer between things. nope. that was an absolute coincidence. so he was in class from six until ten in the morning, rehearsals for two hours after and then he came straight to the gym to teach classes. one of which was ballet fitness. of course he’d built up a lot of stamina so it was a breeze for him, he eased it up a bit for the ten soccer mom’s who attended the class. some of them were nice! but.. some of them not so nice. bitchy. not far from the dance moms he dealt with at the dance studio he taught at and attended himself. “absolutely!” he chirped, looking up from his spot on the floor. it was like a fresh breeze had blew in from the door and he could do nothing but smile at shiloh for a moment before he cleared his throat and spoke. “well, i had them doin’ floor barre. they weren’t too impressed, thought it wouldn’t need as much strength as it did. monica and her minions need to work on flexibility so they hate me now.” where he was sat, in the splits, he might add, he rolled up and out of it to stand, brushing off his tights and shorts. “so yeah, it’s not goin’ so bad. i’m still warmed up from classes this mornin’ at the company.” he chuckled, grinning lightly. “how’s it goin’ for you, hm? my favourite receptionist. i mean, you’re more than that, you’re like… there should be a better title. personal greeter. meet and greet superstar.”
“ monica and her minions’ll get over it, ” he reasoned with a shrug. “ hating you’s impossible. ” shiloh tried not to stare. really, he did. in an effort to break up his gaze, he took a prolonged sip of tea and attempted to revel in its taste. instead, he found himself reveling in kit’s... everything. he masked it well, as if he were giving the room a cursory glance -- his gaze lingered on kit’s figure nonetheless. shiloh blinked several times and ducked his head. stop it. chill. the packet of almonds behind his back felt the brunt of his efforts, his fingertips crinkling the plastic. one sensory detail swapped for another. instead of dwelling on kit’s appearance, he’d fixate on the plastic’s texture, as if it might be of viable interest. another swig of his drink would bring shiloh back to the present moment, in time to return kit’s smile with a tender one of his own. you’re more than that. his heart sang. the plastic smoothed between his fingers. “ meet and greet superstar? ” he questioned with a melodic chuckle. “ i’m not sure i’m that glorious. but your appreciation has been noted. ” a handful of feet separated them, but somehow, that floorspace seemed infinite. “ should we add almond-fetcher to that list? ” shiloh eased himself into an upright stance, leisurely steps transporting him to where he could lean upon the bar opposite kit, marginally closer. he raised the packet of almonds in the process, shaking it playfully as he settled into his new spot. perhaps it was silly, how only a foot or two could make all the difference.
stantcn:
【 ⁰ @apocvlypsed liked for a starter
the place was winding down for the evening, and stanton was ready to close up NOW but there was still one person in the store. someone who stanton was familiar with, who always lingered. someone he found himself always trailing after to watch him do whatever weird fucking thing he did. stanton was putting away a few cds down the line from this guy. he watched his eyes close and move his hands over the selection. it was fucking werid. same thing every time. he sighed, looking around to make sure there was still no one in the store. “ dude, like…. what THE FUCK are you doing? you come in here all the time and do this. why? “ it didn’t really matter that much, it was just so weird. and that meant something coming from stanton.
shiloh’s trips to the record store were rarely short, but this one extended a bit longer than normal. he always bought in THREES, and nothing felt right yet. choosing a selection mediocre to the touch would defeat the purpose of the entire operation. he wound through the aisles, fingertips dancing along the merchandise. he’d only opened his eyes once since arriving an hour prior, when he’d accidentally ran into another customer. he exhaled through his nose, hovering over the same bin he’d been standing near for the past few minutes. in here. something in this one. “ ... why not? ” he answered simply, unfazed by the newfound conversation. shiloh’s eyes remained closed, his voice no louder than necessary to be heard over the store’s current silence. “ life’s more interesting with some mystery involved. ” curating his own curveballs meant taking back the element of surprise, instilling his own agency in a plot device previously controlled by the illness. shiloh took several slow, lengthy strides forward. maybe the next bin. nimble fingertips flipped through the records, lingering to caress the rim of a few along the way. “ you ever bought a scratch ticket? ” a question that might have seemed out of the blue, but not entirely unrelated.
@mvndacious liked for a starter !
the café had been fairly crowded this morning, what with hawley residents desperately attempting to get their fill of their favorite artisanal drinks before the world would explode. jett stood behind the counter during a lull in business, trailing his fingertips along its surface. he toyed with the idea of slinking to the back of the building, just for a moment, to take a few hits of something to make the last half of his shift more bearable. any anticipation of relief was quickly scotched by the jingle of the entrance bell. without looking up, jett mumbled his take on the mandatory ‘ considerate opener ’ . gag. “ greetings and salutations, ” he deadpanned before uncapping his sharpie with a swift bite and pull. “ what can i concoct for you on this fine afternoon? ” the second question was spoken through clenched teeth, the marker cap still held between them as he looked up, eyebrows lifting expectantly. seeing just who stood in front of him further fueled his steely approach.
Me as a lawyer: “Your honor, when does the Law and Order theme song play, or do we have to hum it ourselves?”
hey yo, it’s linc coming at you with a closed starter call because i literally cannot with my drafts ?? yay migraines ! i’ll be replying to a few more of them depending on muse, so this is like... a pseudo-blank-slate ? we’ll see. but in the meantime, please like this if you’d enjoy a brief closed starter from any of my boys and message me who you’d like from ( jett, beck, casey, or shiloh ) ! i love you all loads.
xoxo gossip linc 💋
gretc:
at times, it felt like running was all she’d known. from places. from people. from even herself. she was in a constant battle with the clock, with the seasons, doing everything she could to buy more time, more love, more chances to stitch a grin onto her lips, parade her skeleton around at parties and fall into the arms of a handsome stranger. the blackjack never dealt as favourable a hand as it did her dreams, though. she’d found herself in casinos, in diners, in stripper bars, always running, evolving, never quite stopping to acknowledge just where she’d come from. every now and then, she liked to pause. with her back against the highway, eyes on the skyline – light pollution clouding an otherwise perfect scattering of stars – she felt she could sink into the tarmac and disappear completely.
“ursa minor. that’s it’s stage name, right? wait, not stage name, i mean– whatever,” vocabulary muddled, her lips were a honeyed laugh, fingers dipping into the bag of chocolate-coated raisins before dropping them onto casey’s chest, her eyes still locked on the skyline. the crossroads were deserted, sunday night radio static, traffic light flickering from red to amber to green to amber to red. no change. merely the whir of a taxi cab in the distance every few minutes, a sudden flurry of energy, before the sound died down like whisper. “do you think aliens exist?” the redhead posited, licking chocolate from the skin of her fingertip, head dropping against the rubble of loose stones to glance across at him. “honestly, i’m curious. tell me your theories.” @apocvlypsed
the cosmos were colossal. freeing. separate from earthly afflictions. and yet, sometimes when he closed his eyes, casey envisioned spooning the sky into cups, watching it swirl and pour over and under and in upon itself, into glasses. he’d take a straw then, a curly one, and slurp the stars, digest the universe and its secrets. the marriage of finite and infinite in one, a way to entrap the abstract within the corporeal. the explainable. and he’d sip and sip on his astral medley. perhaps pander to his childhood habits and blow tentative bubbles through the straw. aerate it, create the illusion that its substance extended beyond the halfway mark. he’d never been one to qualify a glass as half-empty or half-full: to casey, even a glass with the subtlest drop could count. but what was there to do, when he would finish this cup? why, drink another and another. satiate the evanescence of it all by indulging in the finer things -- indulging in INFINITY. maybe he’d pour libations for others to drink, to worship the sky and revel in its ability to exist colossally, separately, yet simultaneously within them. then, filled with the courage of stars, he might not feel so utterly terrified any more.
looking up at the night sky tended to have that effect. a troubled peace settled over casey like wool. how strange it was, marveling in the beauty of the screen that would soon showcase the moments leading up to the planet’s doom. but lying in the road, in this instance, he tried not to latch onto such bleak things. instead, he chose to anchor himself to greta’s voice and the delectable delights being passed between them. he hummed thoughtfully before taking a single raisinet from the package, spinning it in the moonlight before popping it into his mouth. he chewed on the candy, took his time, allowed the chocolate to melt away from the raisin before concluding the act. sometimes finding the truth took time, dedication. delving deeper than the sweeter surface.
“ aliens ? ” frankly, he’d never thought about them. sure, entertaining the ideas put forth in star wars seemed fun, but casey had always seen those stories as cinematographic art. the truth in their narratives wasn’t necessarily the most important part. he mulled over his stance for a minute before speaking again, lips pulling into a relaxed smile. he reached for another raisinet and, at the very last second, decided to take two. “ i hope so. it would be kinda cool to film them, you know? i mean, obviously they could, like... kill us? ” he paused just long enough to consume one of the two raisinets resting in his left palm. pensively. “ i think benign aliens would be cool. the kind that have... philanthropic agendas. maybe we could coexist. ” casey cast greta a curious, almost hopeful look. “ do you think those kind are out there? ”
rosclyns:
✧°.── roselyn & ezra
roselyn reached into her bag as she made her way down the dimly lit hall. a soft jingle filled her ears while her eyes flickered towards her door. focusing on unlocking and opening the door, she barely noticed the sticky note that sat just below her peephole. her fingers left the metal handle and pulled it off her door. she stood in her doorframe reading the handwritten words she had gotten so used to. dropping her bag onto the floor, rosie made her way towards the writing desk that was jammed in a corner of her living room.
pulling out a pen and a sticky note of her own from a nearby drawer, rosie began to write her response. ❝ sorry i missed you. been busy. you know how it is. we’ll have to catch up soon. ❞ a small smile graced her lips as she pulled the note off the pad. the two had been playing phone and note tag for months now, and she couldn’t quite remember when she had seen him last. when the two did see each other, they often gave half assed excuses for why they couldn’t stay to chat. it seemed enough for the both.
exiting her apartment, ro placed her note exactly as beck had. as her fingertips pulled away from the note, the door began to open. somewhat taken back, she exhaled an ‘oh.’ roselyn couldn’t help but realize the irony of the situation. she wrote the note with no real intention of wanting to see him that instant, but now he was right in front of her. “hey, look who it is,” she said with a laugh, “i was just about to leave you one of my famous notes.”
okay, so... beck had tried the whole cooking thing this morning. cracked two eggs, whisked them with a fork ( because really, wasn’t there something just so great about multi-purpose tools? ), and had begun to watch ignore them as they congealed in the pan, when the absolute worst thing to ever happen occurred. in the middle of his bon jovi jam session, he smelled burning plastic. and realized, to his horror, that he’d turned on the wrong burner, and was currently making a bowl omelette instead. this was why he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. any kitchen. at all. after rushing to turn off the burner and nearly losing his footing on the way, he’d resolved to never again believe in his own culinary capacity to create. he’d leave that to guy fieri and friends.
peeling the colander off of the burner took the cake for today’s most disturbing task. as he lifted the plastic contraption, it stretched into long, goopy strings. how profoundly... appetizing. recalling the act sent a shudder down beck’s spine as he shrugged on his coat and paced toward the door. did a burning, melty colander disgust him? yes. absolutely. so much that he couldn’t bear to cook on the same surface again, surrounded by vague remnants of its tire-like stench. his only option was clear: escape to the local diner and pretend this whole cooking for himself fiasco never happened. beck opened his door, already letting his mind wander to bacon and other salient things. he almost didn’t notice the person standing right in front of him until they began to speak. eyes wide, he looked up, gaze dancing about before finally settling -- a tell-tale sign that he most certainly was not expecting social interaction, especially after this morning’s colander catastrophe.
“ oh, hey! ” he piped up after a brief pause, features lighting in recognition. took him a second to contextualize all of this. probably because of the ptcd: post-traumatic colander disorder. he coined that phrase himself, just then. and kind of hated himself for it. “ y’know, i think maybe we’ve finally found a delivery method more efficient than door tag, huh? ” cue a light laugh. “ you and this famous note up to anything exciting? ” maybe he’d invite her along to the diner. or maybe he’d use this as a perfect segue into why he had to dash away, keeping their playful exchange alive. the world was his scallop. or mussel. or whatever.
beanhood:
Obviously, a refreshing drink after a long day at work was far too much to ask. From the front pocket of her jeans, Bean had felt the telltale vibration of a phone call and audibly groaned, earning her more than a few confused looks. “Listen here and listen well, sunshine. I’m currently sat at a bar with a crisp, ice-cold bottle of Corona, and it’s just waiting for me to drink it. What do you– No, I haven’t got your bloody cambelt fixed! You won’t even need a friggin’ car if the world ends anyway!” With that, she hung up the call, huffed a sigh and set her phone face-down on the bar, before taking a long swig of her beer. “The sooner this asteroid hits, the better, right?” She remarked absently, noticing the figure in her periphery. Waving over the barman, she gestured with her head to the person beside her. “I’m feeling generous today. Can I get another Corona and whatever they want?“
today was one of the rare days drinking wasn’t a CHASER, but rather the main event. the café had gone to shit today -- he’d nearly been caught toying with the safe and managed to loosely talk his way out of it, insisting that he had been rummaging for the damn quarter rolls because the register was out, the bills had spilled from the cabinet, he figured he’d put them away and not be an asshole about it. thankfully, his supervisor thought nothing of it, and he’d made out with a fraction of what he’d intended to take -- enough to cover a few drinks and some of his favorite poison, which was now tucked into the inside pocket of his leather jacket for safekeeping. he’d already taken three shots by the time he’d moseyed on back to the bar to order something else. something to sip on. but it turned out, a kind soul would do it for him. he eyed bean for a moment, tempted to reply with a simple anything strong. instead, he leaned against the bar beside her and allowed a subtle smirk to overtake his features. “ make like the asteroid and surprise me, ” jett said with a nod toward the bartender. a line he may not have used if he were sober -- there was no real surprise in inevitable demise. only a question of timing.
