as though nothing could fall.

though nothing will keep us together, we could steal time, just for one day. we can be heroes, for ever and ever.

[cloudedwrath]

AVERETTRUIZ

She notices quickly how adeptly he moves to fix her mistakes, and marks it down for later. The ability to do things SHITTILY with the reassurance that the customer ( always right, Jack had reminded her ) wouldn’t be impacted was, truth be told, a godsend. It lifted the pressure off her back, and, therefore, any desire to actually kick her ass into gear. It wasn’t that she was lazy, per se. She always did her homework, and tinkered with random appliances stolen from forgotten corners of their home — alarm clock gone unmissed in the age of the iPhone — and things picked up from Goodwill. Ava had already finished her summer reading assignments for next year. SENIOR YEAR of high school is what loomed over her, not some stupid job in a coffee shop. A forehead finally free of acne and teeth finally free of braces had left her with a newfound energy to rejuvenize her social life, and while she liked Jack … hanging out with her MOTHER’S friends wasn’t exactly at the top of her list to become cool. Neither was making lattes all day. “ I don’t have to do stuff, ” she reminded him. “ I could like, bring a book or something. Sit in the back. Or just like — … ” She’s quiet for a beat, trying to figure out how exactly to present her dream scenario. “ Not come. A case of let’s not and say we did, you know? ” Another beat. “ Or like, say we did to … Odette. Say I did, if we want to get into specifics. ”

       he’s utterly baffled to the point where he has to consciously stop laughter peeking from the corner of twitching lips . ‘   nuh-uh , that totally defeats the purpose of a job !    ’ an exclamation rooted in good faith , too oblivious to see her rebellion as anything more than a playful banter that’d subside with time . though a part-time job at fourteen had never been anything less than a dream for him , an exhale to the end of a school day ( however scarcely attended ) . so it strikes him as odd when she doesn’t display the same sort of enthusiasm he had , or really , any at all . ‘   you can read on your break .   ’ he tries , brows coming together to a peak , still moving within the conversation as he deposits the filter into the basket . though he stops himself before he gets an further , gosh , maybe he should ask emma for some teaching tips . he steals a moment of nothingness for himself , a gentle reminder to slow down . leaned against the counter , his arms cross , a frown etched with sprinklings of disappointment hard to hide . so much for responsibly cool . ‘   you’re breaking my heart here . you get free coffee and donuts , you get paid ! a smooth workplace relies on people showing up , and i can assure you it won’t go over well with your co-workers if they’re called to cover you at seven in the morning because you just didn’t feel like it .   ’ 

[cloudedwrath]

EMSPHILLIPS

She’s already halfway slumped over the bartop in a relatively ‘ defeatist ’ position, cheeks pressed into palms and eyes cast downward when he finishes, and she’s ready to lament more, but the idea of them starting a BAND without a fraction of musical talent, or a BUSINESS without the monetary tact, or a PROTEST without anything worth fighting for seems so ridiculous  to her that she has to laugh: bright and reenergizing and somehow bringing her a modicum of hope that maybe the night isn’t so dead. But as giggles that coat his less than desirable ideas subside, she looks halfway to forlorn again, the heaviness of nostalgia settling on her like a blanket of thick snow. It’s the strange type, one where the feeling of missing something is not a memory that’s attainable — something locked away, perhaps never reached. “ Yeah, well, if we could have met and had that lovely revelation a decade ago, Jack, we might be getting somewhere right about now. ” Missed opportunities threaten to swallow her attachment to the past whole, catching the forlorn reflections she clings to in the belly of the beast. She’d never been too keen on letting go. But words aren’t mean or bitter, and a FAINT smile still traces her features — words are instead sad. Perhaps teenage years gone more fulfilled and introductions to a world of possibility would have done her better: but not when she’s settled into her life, and waiting for something BETTER to come along.

      he can feel the onslaught of emotion resting on a tide that has yet to come in . he knows when it does , the waves will lap with a force strong enough to bruise , a souvenir of half-assed catharsis , because he’s starting to think they do this too often for it to be good . yet , he’s unable to stave it off , even when he assumes a posture of a business man coming in for a nightcap of whiskey ; back straight , one leg jutting out with a perfected ease . ‘   we still have time .    ’ the assurance falls into stale air , burdened by a sigh that accidentally slips . his thirties never brought a blank slate , memories collapsing the romantic notion of fresh beginnings . he doesn’t want to lose his past , but he can’t find the balance between suffocation and sacrifice . ‘  do you ever ...   ’ he doesn’t know how to phrase this , so he tries again . ‘   well you’ve been in love . so have i .   ’ as soft as clouds , his fondness for love never dwindles , eternally grateful to have ever experienced it at all . his finger traces figure eights against the table , filler for thoughts in construction . ‘   i don’t know . i just feel like i’m waiting . all the time . it’s such a waste , isn’t it ? to always be waiting ?   ’

[cloudedwrath]

MINOOPEARCE

STARTER FOR SERA STAVINS ( @cloudedwrath​ ) !

      spray - cans rattle in her bag, filling the convenience store with minoo’s  SELF - MADE  soundtrack of delinquency. somewhere down the main road, passing the local mom-and-pop-stores, you’d find minoo pearce originals   –   watered down versions of the artwork she knows herself capable of. still, she’s satisfied. she’d always taken pride in her every achievement   :   be it graffiti against the police station back wall, or shoplifting endeavors successful. the latter is her current task. she’s browsing the shelves with nonchalance, humming an unrecognizable tune as she searches for nothing and everything. a snickers bar is grasped, as is a bottle of gin   –   snuck into her bag, hastily wrapped in a spare t - shirt. and a counter is approached, only …   “  oh, fuck you.   ”   he towers above, blocking the light of fluorescents. and whatever adrenaline attributed to crimes committed swells within, a chest beat against with an intense velocity.   “   yeah, no.   ”   she continues, a candy - bar tossed back onto the shelf.   “   fuck this.   ”  and with that, small hand is placed on his torso, pushing him out of her way as she makes her exit.

       there’s no use in denying it , she had brought him back . whilst duty had pulled him away with an inflicting sense of righteousness that he had no other choice than to honour , his return is far less heroic . his presence in sheffield is no more than a job , meek and rooted in nothing other than a change of scenery . a change of people , and there lies the game changer . or is she the game ? it’s reckless , he’s being reckless . she’s a blare against the monotony of the small town convenience store , a beaming glow of a lighthouse that warns him to steer clear . it’s no use , collision inevitable , her palm against his torso with a force that feels like a light breeze against his stature . a purposeful step away allows a clear path and distraction plagues his features when he asks for a carton of marlboro’s . through window’s that span the wall , there’s a noticeable sting when she leaves the frame . murmured appreciation and the carton snug in his pocket he’s calling for her before the jingle of the bell from the closing door has ceased . ‘   mj .   ’

[cloudedwrath]

AVERETTRUIZ

@cloudedwrath / THIRTEEN MINUTES AND TWENTY FIVE SECONDS — that was exactly how much time was left in her shift. She’d been counting, eyes flickering between the screen of her phone and the analog clock on the wall. She’d managed to spend at least an hour and a half in the bathroom, meekly telling Jack when he’d questioned her absence that she’d had ‘ feminine problems ’ … something she would most definitely do more than once a month. She’d messed up the past two orders, giving a latte to someone ordering n Americano and a chai to someone who’s asked for espresso. Before that, she’d had a streak of three successes, though ONE of them had been a request for tap water. At least it was an improvement. The boy in line, the only person in the café at the odd lull post lunch had ordered a mocha — or was it a cappuccino? — and she hands it to him proudly, then shifting her attention to counting out the singles that had been placed in the tip jar earlier in the afternoon. SHIT, had he ordered a mocha? Maybe he wouldn’t notice. “ Just let me know how everything is, ” She chirped joyfully, no matter how fake it was. Her cheeks hurt from one too many polite smiles. 

      it’s a rarity that he finds himself here , even though he walks with the lacklustre of an aimless wanderer he’s hardly ever excited to go anywhere apart from the roller rink alone . summer finds an empty pantry and cravings from something sweet , even in the dead of summer where heat hangs thick in the air , a thin film of humidity slick over exposed skin . but he never feels warm , not really , and he’d decided approximately twenty minutes ago that hot chocolate was the only cure for that nagging , annoying , hollowness in the space between his ribs and his heart . ‘   thanks .   ’ a barely audible drawl as he slides the cup towards himself , cautiously blowing against the film of froth that sits atop the drink . it smells suspiciously like caffeine , but in spite of the flagrant bitter edge that wafts towards him , he brushes it off as his own stupid paranoia , the thought of having to clarify is enough to regret purchasing the drink altogether . when the liquid hits his tongue it’s enough for him to wince , letting it pool in his mouth before he forces himself to swallow it down . ‘   god.   ’ a gut reaction unable to be stifled , the cup is set down and pushed back towards her before an explanation is even offered . ‘   uh i ordered hot chocolate . this is ... not ... that .   ’

[cloudedwrath]

SIENNAKINNEY

She’s moderately impressed with the quick pace in which he pin-points her poison of choice, though color and stylization of the glass it sat in could have been a MAJOR indicator — the corner of her mouth still quirks up. “ You were, but … I think you’re playing with a bit of an advantage. ” She picks up empty glass, shaking it slightly as tiny amber droplets swish from side to side, too small to drink but enough to create liquid streaks on the side of the glass. “ So I might still be one up on the WISDOM here. Unless, ” She pauses, and looks at him as if she’s studying him carefully, though she’s already taken in all she thinks she needs to know: tall and blonde and the painfully average sort of pretty that doesn’t catch your attention until you really stare. With eyes fixated on him — she does notice, but attention is drifted elsewhere as second round is placed down onto the thick oak of the bartop. “ You want a little back and forth with sharing our knowledge. You ask me … I ask you. Keeps it fair. ”

         ‘   so it takes a bit more to impress you, i can appreciate that .  ’ his teeth bare down against his lower lip , brows pulling together as he brainstorms a foolproof way to sweep her off her feet . that always seems to be the problem , whisked into fantasies where he’s something more than he is , forgetting that he’s in no position to be proposing grandiose escapades on a just above minimum wage job with a barely dented mortgage . ‘   just wait , one more drink and i’ll be promising you vacation’s to costa rica , and you will be thoroughly impressed .   ’ he assures  , raising his glass with a half-assed cheers and taking another sip , a stare mirrored , the liquor coursing through him lets his gaze linger with little remorse . enamoured even when she looks away , he’s gotta cool it with the drinks , a fifth and he’ll just get sloppy . he clears his throat, intent punctuating his expression with a mock seriousness . ‘   well then , i must ask , what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this ?   ’

[cloudedwrath]

SAWYERKINNEY

     apologies aren’t sought out, nor are they in need   –   & all they do is convince sawyer she should be offering ones herself  :  for putting her boyfriend on the spot without the reminder that  ANYBODY  could’ve used. but neither of them should. not for something like this. not today. a small package, wrapped in silver parchment and a twisty bow taped on top, is scooped up and the space between them is closed for a second time. she hops up on the bed beside him, leaving her gift on the duvet between them.   “   no, lou   –   i didn’t expect you to remember.   ”   the older begins.   “   i mean, there’s not even like, an official, official date to remember. except now… maybe there could be.   ”   she shrugs, eye - contact abandoned and eyes drift to tinted nails   (    soft peach, bordering on a pastel pink   –   another paint job long overdue.   )   self - consciousness oughtn’t be a factor to any of this, but it is. it’s an emotion so suffocating sawyer disallows herself a moment’s breath, a girl rushing through the motions to justify and explain.   “   and look,   ”   she starts again, small box brought up   –   rattling with each erratic movement.   “   it’s tiny, practically nothing.   ”   another shrug.   “  so don’t even worry about it. okay, just don’t.   ”  beat.  “   because it’s totally not a big deal. i mean, most people don’t even celebrate the sixth month, anyway. it’s like, a total MIDDLE SCHOOL move on my part.   ”   a laugh, and she goes on.    “   i don’t know, i just wanted to do something. ‘cos   –   ”   inhale.   “   i guess it’s a big deal to me. not the  half - versary  but…  ”  the pause that follows exposes her speech for its EXCESSIVE nature, to herself mostly, and a voice lowers an octave in response.   “   you.   ”

        fingertips tentatively touch the bow on top of the neatly wrapped gift , too nervous to fidget , too nervous to keep still . reproach inhibits his motions , as if anything he were to say would be the tipping point to something already on the brink of collapse . he’s being irrational , and in a moment of desperation to not monumentally fuck this up , he makes an attempt to unroot his anxieties like his therapist had taught him to . it’s simpler when he slows down , when he listens to her reassurances and recognizes that she isn’t mad at him . that their relationship doesn’t bask in fragility , that it isn’t perpetually on the verge of ruin .  what if lies tint her sentiments and he’s too oblivious to tell , what if she’s hurt ? his head’s a freaking game of mortal kombat and an exhale marks his exasperation . ‘   you’re not lying .   ’ he’s meant to pose it as a question , but it comes across as a breathy statement . he squashes rebel words with a hand that wraps tight around hers . ‘   yeah . yeah , i’d like that . it’s the , third ? today , right ? i uh , i feel like in the summer i never know what day it is .   ’ he stumbles but never falls , her hand an anchor that keeps him from floating away completely . he still feels like a shoddy counterpart to someone so angelic , irreparably selfish but he doesn’t suffocate , he can breathe through it . ‘   thank you .   ’ it’s misplaced , he knows so too but , ‘   you’re like , a really big deal to me too .   ’

[cloudedwrath]

AVERETTRUIZ

@cloudedwrath / She didn’t want a STUPID job in the first place. But with the weight of the school year lifted off her shoulders, she no longer had any sort of shield to hide behind when Odette came to remind her that she needed to begin working. WELL — that and Kai had finally begun to agree with the sentiment, and not immediately come to her defenses when she asked. Or really, moreso demanded: she was, in fact, her mother’s daughter. But now she sat at five in the morning in the coffee shop, an hour before opening, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes after late July nights faded to mornings left her unwilling to get out of bed. “ I know you guys are like, friends. ” She said, lifting one of the coffee cups she  had been tasked with stacking. “ So like, ” She placed it back down on the table, not in the correct spot as she pondered her request. “ We’re, ” She motions back and forth to the two of them, voice loud over the hum of the coffee makers starting up. “ Basically friends. So if I were to like, not … do stuff, you could like, THEORETICALLY lie to my mom. ” A pause. “ Uh … Odette. Don’t tell her I called her that, though. ”

         he’s always appreciated early mornings, as fresh as the first blanket of snow in winter ; overexposed and causing him to squint , an easy feat for eyes eager to lull themselves closed reeling back towards rest . serenity cascades through the windows that span across the walls , sunlight peeking it’s sleepy head from the clouds every now and then . a yawn falls into a dopey smile , nodding his head . ‘   best friends . tell her i said that , she’ll love it .   ’ he grabs the cups from her grasp , stacking them in the right place , briefly forgetting that training her’s part of the mandate of his job . the whole idea seems way too fun for it to be considered any type of work . ‘   they go here . easy access that way .  ’ he makes a reaching gesture to show how the cups are within arm’s reach now . ‘   i am going to pretend you didn’t say that . c’mon ave , open mind ! plus , actually doing stuff makes the time pass faster .   ’ a promise coats his saccharine tone , walking the tight rope of responsibly cool, whatever that means . 

[cloudedwrath]

CHASEDFIRE

PREFERABLY — Sienna would be sitting in the bar alone, with no one there to bother her. She wasn’t antisocial per se, but the descriptor of social butterfly didn’t seem to apply to her. She liked to be alone, caught up in whatever storm of her own thoughts that was brewing at that particular moment. But one thing she enjoyed more than solitude was compliments. Unlike most people in the town, Sienna prided herself on oozing confidence rather than wallowing in self-hatred. Hearing it from other people was just a BONUS. “ He was a comedian, ” She says, eyes flickering from the empty barstools in between them. She hops down off her own, and keeps talking as she slides up next to him. “ Which is basically philosophy wrapped up in something more digestible. ” She thinks for a beat, soaking in the idea of being some kind of ORACLE, ready to reveal all to whoever managed to hang on to each word. IN THIS CASE: a tipsy bar patron with eyes as wide as saucers and a stupid grin on his face. She’d take it. “ You’ll have to see what answers I’m interested in giving. Go ahead, ” Another sip of bourbon. “ Ask me anything, pay me in another drink. You know, to keep my mind going. ” A grin punctuates her sentence, and glass previously being nursed is drained.

      his cheeks flush cherry red , but he wears embarrassment like a favourite pair of sunglasses , snug and well-fitting . come to think of it , bill hicks sounds like a name for a comedian , which leads him to make the arbitrary assumption that comedians must be some of the smartest people alive . she scoots closer , close enough that his almost tipped over the edge stance has to be recoiled ; upright and no longer making the hunchback proud . a glass with amber dregs sees flitting eyes and an uncanny mix between a smirk and a smile ( he never got the former down pat ), before his attentions return to her . ‘   rum ? no , whiskey .   ’ searching her features for hints , he’s a detective without a monocle or moustache , even if the latter’s not for a lack of trying . an aimless guess takes flight , grounded by a confidence he’s always kept close , though maybe it’s more akin to a pest than a badge of honour . ‘   yeah, whiskey. bourbon to be exact .   ’ it’s an order as well as a guess , befallen to the ears of a bartender that’s been drifting within their vicinity, hapless and in dire need of something to do . ‘   was i right ? that’s a precursor to the real question .   ’

[sawyerkinney]

LOU HOLSTAD   –   cloudedwrath‌.

        today’s bleed into tomorrow’s and a summer daze makes the lines between days fade , nights forgotten to long, bright days . he slips through the front door finding a warm comfort in the familiarity of her place . his shoulders no longer tensed , his feet acquainted with the staircase , confident enough to go two steps at a time as if it were his own home . catapulted into the throes of pinch-me moments , where happiness lasts longer than a splinter of a second . a suppressed grin only exposed up by the twitching corners of his lips and a desperation for it to last forever masked by a manufactured undisturbed disposition . the door creaks open , socked feet dragging towards her . she’s infectious , sunlight that lets his smile bloom , over and over until his cheeks hurt with the ache that comes with chewing gum long after the flavour leaves . ‘   hi , you .   ’ he replies , after they’ve pulled away from one another , lips donning a slight pucker , already missing the saccharine stick of her gloss . ‘   uh , okay .   ’ a downturned smile inflicts confusion towards sawyer , but he edges his way towards the bed anyways , peering at her in search of guidance for instructions already clearly given . he makes it eventually , palms splayed against his ribs , and eyes reluctantly shut . ‘   you’re not gonna like , do something weird right ?   ’

     there’s something FUNDAMENTALLY EMBARRASSING about keeping your heart on your sleeve. she’s LOVING : to a fault, to an extreme, but when it dabbles in genuine sentiment fear sets in   –   conjuring butterflies and uncertainties. she loves her FAMILY and she loves her FRIENDS yet her affections remain unadulterated in the context of platonic. with boyfriends, however, or rather   –   boyfriend   –   it was  HARDER  :  challenging, uncharted. she lets him move through the room while she stays put, a shoulder propped up against the doorframe as she waits. and she’s already feeling the flush of bronzed cheeks. it’s stupid, really. everything about it.   “   the lady at the store tried to wrap ‘em for me. and i mean, yeah   –   i guess TECHNICALLY it’s like, a present. sorta. but she brought out this balloon wrapping paper, so i’m pretty sure she thought i was getting them for my kid cousin or something. anyways…   ”   she finishes, a flick of the light and the room goes DARK. with the exception of luminescent lights   :   a ceiling speckled with plastic stars, glowing a  SICKLY GREEN  in the gloom.   “   you can look now.   ”   she starts, approaching an organized desk rather than the boy in her bed.   “   it’s, uh   –   it’s been six months since we like, started dating.   ”   beat.   “   and i know i’m a TOTAL GIRL for remembering so don’t even––   ”   sawyer warns, although no threat is to be found in her remark. rather, a soft chuckle follows it.   “   i got you something.   ”   another pause.   “   something less stupid.   ”   

[cloudedwrath]

SAWYERKINNEY

     there’s something FUNDAMENTALLY EMBARRASSING about keeping your heart on your sleeve. she’s LOVING : to a fault, to an extreme, but when it dabbles in genuine sentiment fear sets in   –   conjuring butterflies and uncertainties. she loves her FAMILY and she loves her FRIENDS yet her affections remain unadulterated in the context of platonic. with boyfriends, however, or rather   –   boyfriend   –   it was  HARDER  :  challenging, uncharted. she lets him move through the room while she stays put, a shoulder propped up against the doorframe as she waits. and she’s already feeling the flush of bronzed cheeks. it’s stupid, really. everything about it.   “   the lady at the store tried to wrap ‘em for me. and i mean, yeah   –   i guess TECHNICALLY it’s like, a present. sorta. but she brought out this balloon wrapping paper, so i’m pretty sure she thought i was getting them for my kid cousin or something. anyways…   ”   she finishes, a flick of the light and the room goes DARK. with the exception of luminescent lights   :   a ceiling speckled with plastic stars, glowing a  SICKLY GREEN  in the gloom.   “   you can look now.   ”   she starts, approaching an organized desk rather than the boy in her bed.   “   it’s, uh   –   it’s been six months since we like, started dating.   ”   beat.   “   and i know i’m a TOTAL GIRL for remembering so don’t even––   ”   sawyer warns, although no threat is to be found in her remark. rather, a soft chuckle follows it.   “   i got you something.   ”   another pause.   “   something less stupid.   ”   

           his eyes open slowly , fighting against a perpetual fatigue that seems to dust his lids . though when he’s greeted by the muted green glow of stars , he hardly blinks , a gaze fixated towards a makeshift sky of constellations . he takes his time , familiar with inky blackness but all too intrigued with the spattering of light . it paints him as a little kid , a speechlessness fuelled by curiosity . then she continues and his heart drops to his stomach , guilt consuming him with the same fervour he’d drank down the simple beauty of sticker stars . ‘   sawyer , i .   ’ he sits up now , and  thankfully midday doesn’t leave him completely blind . ‘   you’re not ... i should have ...   ’ his teeth scrape against his gums , swallowed by a thick silence that shrouds like heavy fog . a gaze tampered by the dark finds hers . ‘   i’m sorry i didn’t remember .   ‘ there’s a fear that strikes deep , that apologies thin every time it splits from his lips . sorry’s become undone , stripped until it’s left bare , until one day when she says that sorry’s just a word , that it doesn’t mean anything . ‘   oh man .   ’ he breathes out , but attempts something of a smile nevertheless . ‘   you didn’t have to ... get me anything .   ’

[cloudedwrath]

KEVINOSWALT

STARTER FOR JACK DETLER ( @cloudedwrath ) !

     fingers rub against flimsy plastic, an agnostic praying to the man upstairs for the banner to  stay up  when she lets go. more tape would do it, but more tape would also mean heading to the convenience store for a re - stock. she was not at that point of desperation just yet.   “   i didn’t go to a single dance in my entire high school career.   ”   she starts, eyeing thick writing with suspicion   –   don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall… and she climbs down the ladder, SATISFIED with decorations finished. kevin had planned this event for weeks now   :   starting with dance classes, continuing with the ornaments purchased out of pocket, and finalized with a date set. tomorrow night.   “   i am five foot seven and a hundred and ten pounds.   ”   kevin sighs, voice lowering.   “   when i dance, i look like a praying mantis on fire.   ”

       he observes from afar , not a crook in sight , the banner’s longevity hinging on the last of their tape . a touch tense but it holds and even the little things manage to make his cheeks swell . ‘   you mean to tell me you’re not a dancing queen , young and sweet ?   ’ he traipses around her , steadying the ladder with a grip that wouldn’t do much if she actually were to fall . too busy reminiscing on high school days budding with awkward, pubescent immaturity , dateless but never scorned . he never sank into loneliness like he does know . it never felt crushing . reality tugs him back, the visual of a flaming mantis impeding his nostalgic reverie .  ‘   there’s no way that’s true , and even if it is , dancing is all about having fun ! letting loose you know ?   ’

[cloudedwrath]

MIKHAILTALBOT

STARTER FOR JACK DETLER ( @cloudedwrath ) !

     mickey was GOOD with kids. babies, toddlers, children, and pre - teens, he had it down. TO THE T. but when disney channel was replaced with MTV, he was as lost as any. he didn’t understand the various social medias, and until  MYSPACE  made its unlikely return, he never would. all brought to the table by the nurse was facebook, and he’d only recently got it explained to him   –   by a fourteen year old stuck in the ER with a broken femur   –   that it was an outdated forum. so he stands there, coffee cup in hand, watching as a group of teenagers fill the café with laughter and obscure jokes.   “   i am terrible with teens.   ”   he starts.   “   i haven’t listened to rap in three years. i don’t know the lingo.   ”

        ‘   lingo doesn’t come from rap songs , it comes from twitter .   ’ he says , as if imparting a piece of wisdom that mickey should be forever indebted to . though any knowledge on the subject doesn’t extend farther than that , but it doesn’t stop him from rifling through his thoughts to think of an examples , fingers aimlessly search through an invisible cache in hopes of a lightbulb moment . it’s a dithering flicker when it does come , but brows perk as a sign of success . ‘   like roast. i thought it was something to do with coffee at first . it’s not . it means insulting someone . but you’d say you’re roasting someone. i guess it’s just an updated version of burn.   ’

[cloudedwrath]

CHASEDFIRE

Exhaustion was evident in the bar, settled into crevices of worn wood and caught between pieces of bubblegum stuck to the bottom of the bartop — more elementary school cafeteria than fine dining establishment. Words were mumbled over melodies muted from the tinny quality of a shitty speaker offering inoffensive rock music to the bar, makeshift stage of the LIVE MUSIC! advertisement plastered on the front door long abandoned. Bourbon is settled as her drink of choice for the night, amber colored liquid shifting from side to side as she turns the glass. It coats her throat in a sweet, burning flavor, and she can already invision another and another and another until she’s sober enough to walk home but drunk enough to fall asleep when head hits the pillow. Thoughts are, however, interrupted by a rather vivacious patron, talked animatedly and grinning ear to ear. It’s a Thursday, she thinks, no one should be that happy on a Thursday. But words catch her ears, and she has to think for a moment. “ BILL HICKS. He … he said that we only tolerate two drugs socially, ” Fingers are fanned outward for emphasis, tapping each one with alternate hand as she counts, beginning to paraphrase. “ Caffeine from Monday to Friday to make you a productive member of society, and alcohol from Friday to Monday to make you forget the ‘ prison you’re living in. ’ ” DARK, maybe, but she’d always liked it. “ You aren’t asking me to make the choice between lattes and vodka, it’s … fucking miserable enlightenment or ignorant bliss. ” EXCESSIVE, maybe, but the point on darkness stands just as true. She drinks then, glass pressed to lips, grateful she doesn’t really have to make the choice. 

         he swivels around on the barstool , with the obnoxious sort of pizzazz reserved for talk show hosts and charismatic start-up young millionaires . feet fled from the floor and the heels of his blundstone’s locked against the metal rods of the stool , he leans forward with climbing intrigue . ‘   who’s bill hicks ?   ’ he asks , his gaze traversing over her features , and he takes her in with a reckless ( and albeit , shameless ) abandon . a weak spot for girls , every single one of them , rendering him doe-eyed and useless . ‘   was he a philosopher ? it sounds awfully smart . you seem awfully smart .   ’ he’s never been able to bite his tongue , no sentence is ever left without footnotes and edits , sentiments rough drafts littered with red pen . eyes narrow , he thinks on what she says , so poetically executed and he’s just drunk enough to believe it’s a hair away from revolutionary . ‘   wow, that’s ...   ’ nodding slowly , his thoughts don’t reach his lips before he’s caught on her , lips tugged and cheeks as plump as a cherub’s. he titters forward , a fight against gravity , test fate any more and he’ll be on the floor . gosh , she’s pretty . ‘   do you have answers like that for everything ? because i’ve been dying to know the meaning of life .    ’ viridescent hues gleam under fluorescents , mischief heavy under lids and a challenge up rolled sleeves of a baby blue button down . 

[cloudedwrath]

SAWYERKINNEY

     summer heat slips through the open window, curtains swaying in the july wind, and patience runs  THIN   –   unruly curls flipping over bronzed shoulders and dress strap sliding down all the same as sawyer moves through her bedroom. the sun settled long ago but the warmth remains, radiating from the windowsill where a collection of snow globes gather. one from her grandparents small town of winsconsin, another bought in the ski resort visited years ago, and a third gifted to her by sienna   –   presumably a thrift store reject. she likes them. not enough to commit to a  full - blown  collection, but enough. enough to keep them on display, turning them  UPSIDE  DOWN  on nights she cannot sleep. normally illuminated by the moon’s light, they are now brought to life by the one on her ceiling, a room kept bright and awake as she paces   –   back and forth, and back again. then, when another thought of WHEN strikes, the door cracks open. she’d left the one downstairs unlocked, less bothered by the potential intruder than idea of not being  DONE  by the time he arrives. space between them is cut with the skipping of her feet, and with a moment’s notice she lands before him.   “   hi !   ”   she begins, relieving him of the opportunity to respond   –   glossed lips pressed against his, smile re - shaping.   “   i got something to show you.   ”   closeness relinquished, she goes on.   “   go lay down… and close your eyes.   ”

        today’s bleed into tomorrow’s and a summer daze makes the lines between days fade , nights forgotten to long, bright days . he slips through the front door finding a warm comfort in the familiarity of her place . his shoulders no longer tensed , his feet acquainted with the staircase , confident enough to go two steps at a time as if it were his own home . catapulted into the throes of pinch-me moments , where happiness lasts longer than a splinter of a second . a suppressed grin only exposed up by the twitching corners of his lips and a desperation for it to last forever masked by a manufactured undisturbed disposition . the door creaks open , socked feet dragging towards her . she’s infectious , sunlight that lets his smile bloom , over and over until his cheeks hurt with the ache that comes with chewing gum long after the flavour leaves . ‘   hi , you .   ’ he replies , after they’ve pulled away from one another , lips donning a slight pucker , already missing the saccharine stick of her gloss . ‘   uh , okay .   ’ a downturned smile inflicts confusion towards sawyer , but he edges his way towards the bed anyways , peering at her in search of guidance for instructions already clearly given . he makes it eventually , palms splayed against his ribs , and eyes reluctantly shut . ‘   you’re not gonna like , do something weird right ?   ’

[cloudedwrath]

@chasedfire​ !

        even the spontaneous trips to the bar have started to root itself in monotony. he’s dreadfully familiar with the feeling that lulls in his stomach, an absence he can’t ignore that leads him leaning against the bar top, voraciously eyeing the bottles that line the shelf. though, on a sleepy thursday evening, company’s slim pickings, but three drinks inspires an utter adoration with the bartender on shift. ‘   bartenders and baristas are two sides of the same coin. night and day.   ’  an untapped spark plug, he buzzes on cheap liquor that’s barely grounded by the inconsistent tapping of his foot against the floor littered by peanut shells. ‘   you can’t have one without the other.   ’ he asserts, but whatever validation he had hoped to glean from the friendly bartender was now being redirected to a customer who had slipped in a couple stools over. immediately, gleeful interest is set alight, dimples deep set as he calls over, ‘   would you rather live without alcohol or coffee ? choose wisely.   ’

[cloudedwrath]

DAMIANHOLSTAD

     damian’s not sure what to categorize the encounter as,  –  uncharted territory, perhaps, though the term made the situation to sound far  TOO RIVETING.  and the idea that their relationship was of any entertainment value was inauthentic at best.  “  my money’s on her.  ”  he starts, as if he had any money to speak of.  “  no offense.  ”  when it came to the two of them, offense was bound to be both meant and received. he could dwell on the why’s and the how’s but rather, focus is  re - directed  to places more  PRODUCTIVE.  although moving with stride, there are sprinkles of hesitance in his motions  –  as if unsure the encounter is of his imagination. he’s plastered, but not drunk enough to view the situation as of any normalcy.  “  why’re you here, anyway… a party’s a pretty weird place to catch up  – for you, i mean.  ”  he continues, mimicking his older brother’s actions, with far less diligence.  

       a low scoff drifts, practiced and familiar as a broken record. ‘   yeah well, you wouldn’t be my brother if you bet on me now would you ?   ’ in theory, the banter should slip from his tongue with ease, an easy set up for a reciprocated jest in good faith, but that’s never the case. it’s strained, always, nylon strings wound too tight which results in an unremitting gaze on the task at hand. fingers tenderly push the weed into a line, the trick is to pack it tightly, but not overstuff it. ‘   uhm...   ’ his brows draw together to a point, responses filtered until he reaches one that doesn’t leave him as an gaping wound of vulnerability and loserdom.  music informed dexterity lends well to rolling joints,  the edge of the paper tucked and free of tears and spilt green. ‘   it’s something to do.   ’ he fishes a lighter from his pocket, strikes his thumb against the wheel several times for no more than a weak flame. ‘   we don’t have to. catch up. you can fuck off if you want.   ’ there’s a barely perceptible wince, a sliver of self-acknowledgement of how easily hostility is to appear, but relief floods under a caught flame. finally.

[cloudedwrath]

CLOSEFEARS

the request - phrased more as a demand - manages to catch bucket off-guard. it’s a party, and lou’s here asking bucket share his phone like two middle-schoolers splitting headphones connected to a cracked-screed ipod touch. while his initial reaction has bucket itching to say fuck off, he just queues up one his favorites and stretches out his arm to hand it over. lou’s clearly missed the joke, and bucket just quirks an amused eyebrow. “ you’re tellin’ me no synth song is sad? ever? y’never felt like cryin’ a little listening to - lsd soundsystem, or whatever? ” nimble fingers retrieve a slightly bent joint from the pocket of bucket’s abhorrent short-sleeved button-up, one he’d nabbed from a thrift store’s 2$ bin, and he lights it with little regard to whoever’s house this happened to be. “ music’s s’posed to make you feel something. that’s all i’m saying. ” after a few puffs to get the thing going, bucket holds out the joint warily. a small olive branch - olive leaf, even. 

      with the ear bud secure, he hunches forward, a gaze cast to the carpeted floor. it’s a respite from the unconsciously crushing intimacy of music, laden with the pressure to be appreciated. the tune’s stripped back, a composite of diary entries complemented by the reverberating accompaniment of impassioned strums against an acoustic guitar. his lips twitch, suppressing a smile and the desire to peer up at bucket and solidify the striking contrast between the song he’s chosen and the personality lou’s come to know. ‘   i like the lyrics. they’re honest. i think lyrics are the hardest part of making a song.   ’ he returns the earbud, and maybe bucket’s not so bad, or maybe music sands his edges and relieves the harsh lines that he’s found a comfort to dwell in. ‘   i don’t know if it’s the music. or if it’s just, like, me. sometimes i think i’m too self-involved.    ’ in the way where he pinches the joint from bucket without a second thought, a thank you unable to pass lips that are already preoccupied with the inhale. ‘   it’s lcd.   ’