[betweenghosts-archived]

i moved him to my multi !!

[aurenko-deactivated20171012]

(does it matter?)

[betweenghosts-archived]

‘Yeah, wow, lovely… No. But I like that you’re funny Iooking.’ (space au)

                 there it is, the infamous LOOK. not a single day passes by without him using it on ben, and he doesn’t feel like it’s going to end any time soon either. somewhere in the background he can hear quip snickering, celebrating anything that leaves the prince’s mouth and frankly, oscar really doesn’t care that his behaviour might be unprofessional or unacceptable.   ❝             funny looking. you truly know how to make someone feel good about their appearance, don’t you ? ❞

[mountvision]

[nuangst]

haven’t you taken enough from me?

won’t you torture someone else’s sleep?

[betweenghosts-archived]

‘I’ll dance with you.’ (dancer au)

               the room, although empty, feels cramped and sticky. music has filled it to the brim, though coming from a speaker rather than the piano that the taller male is usually sitting at. it is strange, if not almost surreal. he’s heard his songs on a record before, but never has he listened to them with another person and never has someone told him to dance to it. a part of him wants to back away, turn off the music and call it a day as anxiety creeps up his spine. the other part, however, wants to reach for ben’s outstreched hand and take it.

               the latter wins.

               ❝ i have to warn you, ❞   oscar explains carefully, his left hand lingering awkwardly on the other’s waist. his song is starting to give him a headache.   ❝             i have never danced in my entire life. this is probably the first and last time you will bother with me. ❞   the words have a comedic tone, casual and weightless against the barely expressive look on his face. he is cautious with each step, not wanting to step on ben’s foot and hurt him unnecessarily.

                 dancing with him isn’t bad, but oscar isn’t good at it either.

[betweenghosts-archived]

— ❛ ♛ ⊰  @dragonflly. | continued from here.

               when was the last time you slept ? what a strange question. how awfully abstruse. it makes him wonder what it’s supposed to mean, what the right thing to answer is, because ... something isn’t right. there is movement in his brain. synapses on fire and thoughts rushing from left to right with voices tumbling over each other in the most helpless ways              but nothing happens. when was the last time he slept ? he can’t recall. maybe, between all those forgotten days and lost hours in sheer darkness he did sleep. maybe he slept so much he forgot how to be awake. maybe he’s sleeping right now.

                lately, everything feels more like a fever dream than the actual reality even now he feels as though it’s completely illogical and utterly surreal that she’s standing in front of him.   ( please, be real )   he can barely remember the words he said to her before, barely remember how he opened the door or got out of bed this morning. did he sleep tonight ? he’s tired. that’s one thing he’s sure of. yes, he’s so fucking tired. there’s just nothing to make sense of. none of the things jumping around in his brainbox seem to be linked to something in particular. they are all merely bits and pieces of something that once has been s or hasn’t been. it’s hard to make out the truth nowadays. 

                but standing in the hallways with theo before him, whether it’s his imagination or reality, gives him comfort. at least for a little while, until he wakes up again. his shoulders feel heavy as he raises them for a shrug and they drop a lot faster than he intended them to. a quiet sigh follows. tomorrow. tomorrow he will try to sleep.

                  ❝              i don’t know. ❞

[betweenghosts-archived]

when i look at my drafts i feel nothing but guilt... but i will get to them !! i WILL !!

[betweenghosts-archived]

— ❛ ♛ ⊰  feltstrange.

            “ Nine out of ten dentists agree. ”

           ❝               is that so, flower ? ❞

[death-by-elocution]

[betweenghosts-archived]

— ❛ ♛ ⊰  feltstrange​.

             ❝ hey                you’re cute. ❞

[softenedvoice-blog]

betweenghosts (hey,, hello (^: ily)

let’s talk about you  &  me.   /   accepting selectively.

                    cries

[betweenghosts-archived]

all in all: 2016 has been a weird year but i’m also happy because i wrote oscar and put him out there and people actually like him which makes me a happy bean <3

[eigengraved]

❛ ♛ ⊰       aesthetic: oscar theodore lucas lynwood.

❝ part of a cosmic joke. eid ot tnaw i. likes poetry. ghosts & stars. ❞

[betweenghosts-archived]

everything annette and oscar do: is pain everything i need: the pain

[softenedvoice-blog]

'I’m right here, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.’ (heh)

where does it hurt? can you show me? / accepting.

         it’s been a time. one of the most horrible, wretched times, where she can’t tell the difference between real & fake, alive & dead. she’s kept it hidden away, tucked up behind her ears, rolled under her tongue. it’s been quiet for a while, she hasn’t had too many problems. ( the dark shape in the mirror is still there, when she closes her eyes. it might have been there still if she hadn’t thrown the box. ) she stumbles through conversation, keeping quiet as possible. 

          i won’t haunt you. i promise. i’m right here, i promise. i’m not going anywhere. so many promises. none of which she’s certain he can keep. as someone CONSTANTLY REMINDED of the inevitability of death in ways others can’t imagine, she can’t believe anyone’s permanence. she flinches slightly at the word promise ; such a strong term. 

          her eyes shut tightly, trying to dissipate the bad feelings. she inhales deeply, hoping that it will feel fresh & new. it doesn’t. but she pretends it does, a closed & crooked smile pulling itself like a puppeteer across her face. ❝ i-i-i — ❞

           ❝ i b-b-bel-liev-ve y-y-you-u. ❞ a pause, & she avoids eye contact. if she hadn’t, he would know she did not believe him. not at all. ❝ ——— th-than-nn-nk y-y-you. ❞

[softenedvoice-blog]

Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? (fffffffffffffffffffffffffff)

do you have any idea how beautiful you are? / accepting. heck me up.

        she was many things right now. not one was beautiful. she looks as if she has fought her way out of a grave. ( in a sense, she had. ) she is shaking & paler than usual, hasn’t slept in almost a week, & when she does sleep, she hears the horrible words the last spectre had SHRIEKED when she was in its grip. she hasn’t eaten ; she’s kept the lights on all night for days, to prevent from imagining that horrifying face peering at her in the darkness, laughing at her. it was one of her worse encounters.

         what a pretty little girl, it had said. so alive. i was alive once, too, you know … though surely i never had such pretty s k i n — you must deem yourself so LUCKY, to look like that !! i would k i l l to be so pretty, even in death …

         the kindness that thing feigned was so real, so believable, she did not doubt it until it was too late. she’d held a kind conversation, letting it get closer until she was within reach. ( she’s been letting her hair cover the oddly-shaped bruises & scratches on the sides of her face. that is one thing no one can see. ) she hadn’t stopped shaking since – she knew she’d only barely escaped, & the face & voices & the feeling of malicious cold death came back every time her eyes shut. 

         she wasn’t pleased at seeing anyone this soon after. she’d been radio silent for a long time, yes, & if it were possible, she may have gotten smaller. handfuls of hair fall out at the slightest touch, & she can’t look anyone in the eye. her bottom lip is swollen & bruised, worsening her stutter & making it even more impossible to speak. SHE LOOKS LIKE HELL, & HE’S CALLING HER BEAUTIFUL.

          at that, she drops the book held only slightly in shaking hands, flinching at the thud it makes. hazel eyes shut furiously to stopper tears, which only makes it obvious. a quiet, choked sob escapes, & she suddenly looks even smaller. ( the little sliver of a girl has to lean on the bookshelf to not fall to the floor. she cannot believe him. not like this. ) the mere idea of this being beautiful was ludicrous, & the kind words she knew to be heartfelt were too much for her.