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hi lets ignore that i haven’t been here in a week or two and instead discuss that i kind of want to add arielle ( from 3.05 ) to my muse list if only to explore some of her personal emotions & motivations & feelings & etc. about everything?? would any eliot or quentin or both be down for plotting / doing that good sheeit??

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【margo】

circumstcnces‌:

He’ll never be able to deal with his problems the way ‘Margo and Eliot’ do. It’s not in his personality―in his DNA―to cover himself up with the bodies of others. His blankets are smaller and occasionally more colourful in nature.

“ ― I’m just t i r e d, Margo. Or exhausted, doesn’t matter. Same thing at this point. ”

She wasn’t expecting Quentin to join in on her coping mechanism like Eliot did. Putting up a wall and acting all strong to fight off the injustice of her life was how she had dealt with things all her life. It was how she was standing still, even if she appeared like a bitch. She didn’t mind that term about her. Better than change herself for the whim of every man in her life.

“I get it, Q. But you can talk to me. I promise I won’t be my usual bitch self.” It was a promise she could hold. Q being one of the few people she genuinely cared about. His well being mattered to her.

It aches his heart a little that she feels the need to say that. Like he’ll automatically assume any genuine kindness from her is a facade.

Then again, both times he can recall didn’t end very well for him. Drugged, drunk, in dire need of a time-turner. 

But who else beyond E l i o t sees this side of her?

“ You ever, hm,” Q struggles to get the words out right; always does when he needs them most―he tries again, “you ever feel like nothing is worth doing unless there’s something to ‘do it for?’ Like when you do the whole summer job thing because there’s something you’re saving up for. You work all summer and keep that goal in mind and then―there it is, in your hands―and there’s all that accomplishment...             And when that wears off you’re in the same position as you were before. And you don’t wanna―wanna do anything because there’s nothing to look forward to, I guess? ”

He’s rambling. Looks at her anyway and can’t help but hope she gets it.

“ I’m not making any sense, am I. ”

[thepersonalquotes]

I suck at apologies, so… unfuck you, or whatever.

[merlinss-archive-deactivated202]

[ofthaumaturgy-deactivated202007]

conceptualsolitude‌: 

concept: after all these years, i can finally let go, finally leave it all behind. the weight is lifted. i can move forward.

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inkskinned‌:

on a scale of one to ten how sad are you.

you almost say seven but the answer floats in your lungs like rising mud. you shift your shoulders. some part of you is already forming an excuse. that it’s not that bad sometimes. one, two, three on a day that the clouds are out. you’re just complaining about stuff. yesterday you laughed past a brick of a four, does that make the brick come down to a two-point-five.  the solid seven panic attack of last tuesday feels somehow like a little thorn, just a regular day full of a gentle three-point-nine earthquake rocking after yesterday’s close-to-an-eight. see but if tomorrow you have a real bad day, it will make today look simple.

and what if. what if tomorrow it’s a big old red eight-point-nine. like one of those days where sirens are going off in every part of you but you’re stuck behind a glass window watching it all burn down. like one of those days that your skin against the air feels foreign. like too much of everything. like sitting-in-the-shower, like can’t-eat, like the tide isn’t just coming in, it came while you were sleeping and now you’ve gotta learn how to swim. like bounce me against a bullet hole kind of day.

you keep numbers like nine and ten way out of reach. those are for the people who really are suffering. you’ve got no excuse. nine and ten are funeral numbers, for real problems, not yours, no. and sometimes you’re fine. and you’re kind of used to it. and it’s not sad, it’s just numb like a television caught on static. numb like i can’t remember if i care about this. numb like nothing works but i can’t be bothered to fix it. that’s not sad that’s every day stuff. everybody feels like this, right? feels like they’ve been shut off. right.  

maybe five. right in the middle. like not gonna shoot myself but i’m not wasting your time. a nonanswer. like could be worse could be better. like i need help but i don’t want you to worry even though i need someone to worry about me because i can’t worry about myself. maybe five. but what if five is too small. what if five is too big. what if -

“on a scale of one to ten,” he repeats into your silence, and then pauses. “and please be honest about this.”

[demelzahcarne]

[legaciesladies]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“Loneliness leapt in the mirrors, but all week I kept them covered like cages.”

— W. S. Merwin, from Flower and Hand: Poems; “Departure’s Girlfriend,”

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〖 headcanon i 〗 ― ❝ I like it where it gets dark at night, and if you want noise, you have to make it yourself. ❞

Quentin suffers from misophonia, has his whole life. 

Episodes for him are triggered by constant noise repetition caused by an outside source. Uncomfortable noises; those he can do. Nails on a chalkboard just make him wonder how long ‘til the keratin snaps. Squishing things, who cares. 

Metronomes drive him to teeth-grinding frustration. Timers, alarms, stopwatches ( like the stupid fancy-tech watch Ally Lopez wore that always went off during Social Studies like an eight year old really had somewhere that important to be at 1 1 : 0 7 A M ) can make him spiral into panic episodes. 

Margo discovers this when he has to practically beg her to stop tapping her pencil on the Cottage bartop. First she laughs, then she doesn’t. Then no one studying in the common area makes a noise or finds another way to release their tension. 

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whoops lads sorry for the sudden vanishing. got a TERRIBLE case of food poisoning and to spare you the details i wished for death on a constant basis. but today i’m right as rain and after work i’ll be getting back to drafts and such that i owe!! sorry for the delay and thanks everyone who is waiting patiently!!

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【alice】

Alice sighed as she tried again to open the doors to the library. “Technically it shouldn’t be closed at all, and they don’t have the authority to do it but that doesn’t stop them from doing it.”

She shook her head as she tried to figure out how to get into the library. “I need the book tonight, I need to be able to complete the spell tonight the stars are literally aligned for it.”

Q runs his hand over his face. Way to go, man, says the voice in his head that he has to shush with duct tape and rope. It’s not just his grade on the line now, but Alice’s. And that’s like trying to fuck with a rhino and expecting to get away with it.

“ Well, I don’t see us getting in without... I dunno―a spell that could get through the Library’s actual barriers? ” Which, of course, was now going to be their plan of action. He can see it in her eyes.

          “ Alright. What do we need. ”

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【quentin】

          for a few painfully NAIVE seconds quentin thinks shaileen is actually going to give him something useful. he watches her fingers bend and crack - and then unspectacularly produce a bottle of gin. ( and not even the expensive kind. ) he lets out a sigh, but reaches for the bottle anyway.

                    ❛ you know what? i’ll take it, ❜ he decides, opening the bottle and taking a pull directly on the bottle. it tastes exactly as sharp as imagined and quentin pulls a face. ❛ also, i think eliot is rubbing off on you. ❜

She can’t help but laugh at the face he makes when the alcohol burns his throat straight. Gin isn’t for everyone but it can be for the desperate ― a lesson her teenaged self learned quite early on. But she does feel slightly bad about not being able to help him study; she needs her own tutor at this rate. 

Yeah Shai, go back to school when you didn’t even sit your A-levels, that’s a spectacular idea! She hates her past self so much right now―all the time, really.

“ Honest though, I’m no good at revision. Can bend and twist my fingers like a piece of taffy but don’t ask me what the fuck it means. ” She takes the bottle and swigs from it directly. An indirect kiss for good luck.

                            “ Have ya got cards, or summin’? Could quiz you. ”

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【eliot】

Eliot leans over the moment Quentin apologizes and plants a kiss against his temple. He doesn’t want to tell him not to say he’s sorry - though he shouldn’t - because that only makes it worse. Better to just remind him he’s cared for, even if half of it is silent reassurance. He squeezes his hand and laces their fingers together to show he absolutely does not want to let go, and settles against Quentin’s side.

“Fabulous,” he answers, his voice soft enough that only Q could hear him. “But I was hoping you’d come take a walk with me. It’s stuffy in here, and these people are boring.” Not true in the least, but it’ll give him a chance to ask Quentin what’s wrong without everyone else around - or at least to give him a second to breathe away from everyone else. “Indulge me?”

@circumstcnces » CON’T / Eliot & Quentin

In the end it’s always easier to apologize than to thank someone. It works with his folks, with Jules, and now with Eliot, too. But the warm lips on his temple aren’t an unwelcome surprise even if they do make him pull back just a half an inch before he has to consciously stop himself.

Lucky him that Eliot doesn’t notice it enough―maybe thinks Quentin’s moving his hair―and distracts him anyway. He knows Eliot might be serious about everyone being boring but that’s why Eliot exists, to liven up people who deserve it. But they’re heading out onto the back patio before he really has a chance to make sure the host leaving his creation is acceptable.

The outside air feels like euphoria in his lungs. He takes in another deep breath before the sensation of it fades and numbs like everything else he’s feeling.

“ Thanks. I, uh, don’t think the cottage is safe enough to have that many people inside. ” A weak laugh for a weak comment.

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【julia】

   “Yeah..” She responded, lighting the cigarette before it was lighted to her lips. “Definitely not hanging out with any party gods anytime soon.”

    Julia felt old, for once her body was screaming at her in a long time to sit down and take a second to relax. Life, magic, all  was draining but still a rush, one she needed to limit now.

It doesn’t take Q too long to get a residual headache from the last time they decided to have it out with a party-God. So he gets where she’s coming from.

But there’s some breed of exhaustion in Jules’ voice that hits him where it hurts. He can’t even imagine what it’s like to have to hold yourself back. 

                   “ Have you... I mean... are you in pain? ” Dumb, Quentin, dumb.

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【klaus】

   HE’S LEANING PRECARIOUSLY OVER THE LEDGE, the fingers of one hand    curled loosely around the railing he’s clambered over whilst the other clasps the    neck of a bottle, drained enough to go some way toward explaining  —  this.    When he glances to the street below, it’s with a curious consideration moreso    than clear intent, and he sighs, twists halfway to address him with a smile that    seems bizarrely out-of-place.

          ❝     Ooh, enlighten me. What is the answer? Wait, wait, is this gonna be, like,                  what they tell you in rehab? Put your  —  put your faith in a higher power.     ❞

   His fingers wave, theatrical, and he cuts himself off with a laugh, pitched (too) high    —  though he has, at the very least, turned entirely now to face the other, both arms    wrapped more securely around the barrier.

This is a guy who’s been through the ringer a few times. Quentin can tell ― he knows what it’s like to lose faith in everything, and then continue to even when there’s no faith left. Negative faith is possible because Quentin Coldwater’s lived to that point.

“ Fuck a higher power, man,” doesn’t even watch his language because why should he? “Those―those people don’t know what they’re talking about. At the end of the day you’re gonna live because you want to live and not because of religion or any crap like that.                              But what’s the point in proving those assholes right?                              If anything... don’t do it just to spite them. To spite                              what they’ll say about you. ”

He takes another step closer. Hesitant. Worried. He’s barely holding himself together and if this dude dies―commits suicide whatever―because of him? It’s gonna be way too much.

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alright at the hour i’m forcing myself to sit down and queue my replies. i’m so sorry to people waiting on meeee. i’m on discord to plot / talk, too!! mutuals hit me up at justshyofgifted#8346