𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔶

all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach, gon't you ever tame your demons but always keep 'em on a leash.

[fletcherliu]

— #𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐔. original character penned by ems for roswell-rp .

                  * 𝐭𝐥;𝐝𝐫: fletcher liu thirty-one years old ( born december 2nd ) and currently resides in moonbeam gardens . he works as a sergeant in the U.S military and , on the side , indulges in cage fighting and mixed martial arts for an extra buck . fletcher is straight , is referred to by he/him pronouns &is decorated head-to-toe with needlework !!

                                       bio. connections. playlist. musings. tasks.

[fletcherliu]

victoriaadsuar​:

“i bet you’re just itching to throw a punch at my smug face right now, huh?” her jaw tenses, teeth clenched hard enough that she can hear the blood pumping through her ears. the rage feels like coming home, numb for a little too long and suddenly remembering that she’s alive, worrying that the strength of her emotions could incinerate her from the inside out. for the moment, fury is better than nothing and a cruel, humorless smile stretches across her lips, head cocking to the side with dark eyes honing in on fletcher like a predator with her prey. but the fire turns to ash on her tongue, doused by his self-deprecation until she’s blinking up at him, suddenly confused, arguably angrier than she was before. you can’t insult someone already insulting himself, can’t kick a man when he’s down and all that. her hands ball into fists at her side, a low humming verging on a growl at the base of her throat as her eyes clench shut. then a sharp inhale. the surge of emotion is entirely too overwhelming. she wanted a fight, needed a fight, and he ripped the rug out from under her, left with adrenaline pumping through her body and nowhere to direct it. “fuck you,” she hisses without venom, swallowing down all the rest as a shaky hand comes to remove the cigarette from her lips and she shudders out a smoky breath. 

“ fuck me ?? “ fletcher emitted a smoky laugh , cascading from his lips in a light grey fog , “ you know , that anger would be welcomed in the basement of the sports complex . you ever wanted to throw a punch without consequence ?? “ who didn’t ?? there was a certain breed of human , a shell full to the brim with anguish and hatred , one that boiled up and over like the crater of mount vesuvius . being one himself , the oldest liu sibling could spy it in others , which was exactly the reason he’d set up his little underground operation , a space of safety — at the very least emotionally . a purple-yellow bruise was easier to heal than the niggle at the back of the amygdala , a voice screaming to send a fist hurtling through the air with disregard to the combatant . he sounded like a soulless salesman , one that called at the doors of unsuspecting old ladies asking for them to buy a feather duster or microfibre cloth for ten dollars a piece . the sly smirk never left ; victoria would have to punch it off of him if she wanted rid of it . “ you don’t have to see me down there . even better , you can hit me and there’d be no repercussions . you wouldn’t get slung in the sheriff’s department overnight for bodily harm or assault , nor would i hold it against you . a free hit . what’s not to like ?? “ just as he had argued his very presence classed up the wild pony , victoria showing her face in the dingy underbelly of roswell would certainly bring a little glamour to the operation . 

[fletcherliu]

nfldunn​:

a brief snort escaped gunner’s lips. “man, you’re probably the one person in this town who actually knows me,” he hummed, though he knew it wasn’t entirely true. at least, it wasn’t when you counted jaden, but even jaden was someone he kept more at arm’s length than anything. he had never gotten used to the idea of letting people in, and his entire career had been plagued by people making assumptions about him and selling them to the closest tabloid, so now he almost took it for granted. that people would believe one thing about him and nothing else, so what was the point in trying to explain everything that went on in his head to other people? “well, you can’t go wrong with that,” he hummed, laying his head back as his artist grabbed a razor to clear the hair from his leg for the tattoo design. “it’s one way to describe it, at least.”

it was easier not to discuss such matters , to swallow emotion and hardship with a veil of pain . it was half the reason fletcher had created his little fight club , a place where the disenfranchised and the lost were welcome to throw punches without consequence . when it came to emotional pain there was no quick fix , there were no pills to pop to make it better , no surgery nor bandaid to numb the discomfort ; in the basement of the sports complex , the physical manifestation of a punch could be worn as a badge of honour . was it a healthy coping mechanism ?? far from it , but at this point fletcher hadn’t much of a choice outside of what he already knew . his own arm was rid of the dusting of fine hair , and a stencil was placed perfectly against the line of his bone . at the very least this pain was meaningful — he’d have a design to flaunt , rather than a shiner to camouflage . “ i’d be pretty concerned if i didn’t know you , after all this time , “ the male smirked , “ there aren’t many people that can put up with me this long . gotta hang onto them for as long as i can , or i’d be a total recluse , “ the idea became more and more tempting each and every day .

[fletcherliu]

nebula eatery !  ( closed for — @auroracohen​ )

it was a regular occurrence ; once a week , like clockwork , fletcher would swing by nebula eatery and peruse the baked goods . every time he would ponder the cupcakes , the flapjacks , the slices of pie , and yet — as though he was a robot running a pre-determined program — he would shake his head and turn away , picking up a fresh sourdough loaf for his mother before making his departure . rarely was there a moment in the male’s life where he did something for another person . kindness , it seemed , was in short supply in the camp of the oldest liu ; he wondered how all the compassion had leaked into his younger sibling , having bypassed a generation and left him devoid of any emotions other than seething anger , bitter jealously and dizzying narcissism . a lapse in his self-absorbion brought him there , an act of adoration towards his darling mother who was quite the gastronomer whenever he returned home for an evening meal . the ding of the over-door bell announced his presence , flashing the canyon of his cheek dimple in aurora’s direction . “ the usual , “ he spoke , tugging out his wallet to pluck a few notes , then hesitating , “ — and what else would you recommend ?? “ 

[chrisevansbuddy]

Lewis Tan

via Insta Stories, 10.4.22

[fletcherliu]

nfldunn​:

“well, my hatred of other sports probably helped,” gunner laughed lightly, watching his own artist getting the cartoon ghost onto a piece of transfer paper. “feel like most people see me as a sports guy and think i like all sports, but the only one i’ve ever liked was football.” soccer, baseball, softball - every other sport he was required to do a recap on when it came to his radio job? he hated every second of it, because that meant he had to watch the games, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. he lays his head back lazily as a faint hum falls from his lips. “no shit?” gunner couldn’t relate - had never liked someone enough to date them after he’d graduated high school and ended the one relationship he’d ever had - but he was happy for the other man. if he couldn’t be happy, he wanted fletcher to be happy. “well, knowing you, man, i don’t think it’s tempting fate to mention it. the fact that you even want to? s’worlds more than you’ve given me about anyone else you’ve ever been with.”

there weren’t many people that fletcher deemed as a friend , but those select few were those that were complicated , that mirrored his own messiness and reflected it back upon him . to some people he was just the gym guy , the rich guy — in some aspects that was true — and yet they weren’t privy to the moments in his lonely evenings , those snapshots of a solitary man who wished nothing more than to have somebody by his side . “ well , then they clearly don’t know you enough . i never thought of you as just the something guy , y’know ?? but i get that . i mean , god , the amount of assumptions people make about me .. “ it was near comedic . gunner’s words formed a lump in his throat . he hadn’t realised it until he opened his mouth to speak , swallowing around an aridity , coughing to dispel the discomfort brought by the reflection on his dating past . it was messy , murky , unable to discern — was he really happy , when every attempt at companionship was a desperate claw towards understanding , fletcher fighting tooth and nail to keep his head above water . in that moment , the male was glad for the impending sting of a tattoo gun to ground him in the now , to root him to the ground , to remind him he wasn’t threatening to float into the heavens . “ let’s get back to gettin’ hurt for fun , eh ?? “ 

[fletcherliu]

victoriaadsuar​:

“’when you have high quality shirts, you need high quality accessories,’“ she wastes no time mimicking with an irreverent snort. “you’re such a city boy, fletch. why are you even here?” here as in roswell. here as in a dead-end town with a single upscale restaurant that was still more likely to be filled with flip-flops than dress shoes. sometimes he seemed photoshopped into the scene, too pristine against the backdrop of the pony from the perfectly pressed, tailored suits down to the car he’d arrived in. the minute she left LA, the designer clothes were the first things to go, mostly because she needed the money but also because they just didn’t make sense here. who here, in roswell, new mexico, would actually be impressed by all that material crap? who here was even worth impressing? fucking no one. though the sentiment feels way less harsh coming from her own head than confirmed through the words out of his mouth. “no? why wouldn’t i understand, huh? why wouldn’t i understand?” it’s the type of thing that used to roll right off her shoulders, but she can’t seem to reign in her emotions these days. the agitation comes spilling out before she can cap it. “act like you’re better all you fucking want but whatever decisions you’ve made in your life have lead you to the exact same fucking place i am—smoking a shitty cigarette outside a shitty bar in a shitty town. so how much better can you really be?” 

an uncharacteristically docile demeanour washed over fletcher , focused only on the towering ash at the end of his cigarette ; it fell in grey motes from the embers , twirling through the air , disappearing before they hit the ground . maybe victoria was right — perhaps fletcher wasn’t any better than anybody else for , at the end of the day , he still lived in roswell , and just like her he hadn’t found the means to escape — what made him so special ?? as venomous as her words were , spat from the fangs of an agitated cobra , he stayed still , smirking around the gilded filter of his smoke , his ears parrying words that he already knew all too well . they were the same words he spoke to himself at night on those restless evenings where he tossed , turned , and eventually resigned himself to tugging himself from the shroud of bed linen and making his way to the basement of the sports complex . this wasn’t success , no matter how much he redressed it ; he was the same as those ruffians at the bar , those drunkards , those old and forgotten souls that found solace nowhere other than at the bottom of a bottle . breaking himself away from the kiss of nicotine , he responded , “ you wouldn’t understand because you’re so quick to bite . look at you . i bet you’re just itching to throw a punch at my smug face right now , huh ?? “ a pause , taking the cigarette from his lips and allowing it to hang , billowing , between his index and middle finger , “ hang onto that fire and use it for something . don’t waste it on people like me . you’re right , “ a revelation he had known yet never admitted , not until now outside that shitty bar , in that shitty town , just as victoria had so ruthlessly spotlighted , “ i’m just as shitty as the rest of them , nice clothes or not , money or not . it means nothing . it’s all just decoration . “ 

[aslankayax]

Location: The Crashdown Cafe 🍔

@roswellstarters​

Sleep didn’t come easily to Aslan these days. If at all. He’d often find himself laying awake in a bed that suddenly felt too big, in a house he knew he could barely afford. His marriage breaking apart had been hard enough on him as it was but it was exhausting having to keep up the good spirit and smiling through the pain all day before stepping back into what felt like nothing but a cruel reminder that this was indeed his new reality and not just a nightmare that’d pass eventually.

Tonight was one of those nights where he couldn’t stand going back after a day spent at the shop and he’d decided to try and stay out for as long as he could before people would start questioning him – or rather, he’d start questioning himself. So there he was, seated in a booth by the window, staring out of it and into the dark as if he’d be able to people watch at this hour.

Aslan reached for another cold fry to pick up from his plate when suddenly a random teenager decided to make sure Halloween came early and looked directly into the window, flashing an unsettling smile just when Aslan turned back to look outside, making him jump as his fry got flung across the table and a curse left his lips but the teen was long gone, probably celebrating a successful prank. A little embarrassed, Aslan huffed. “Did you see that?!”

[fletcherliu]

it wasn’t often that fletcher was in the likes of the crashdown . he had more expensive tastes , for the most part — food swimming in grease would hardly be his first choice , and yet he’d found himself in those faux-leather booths , awaiting a basket of breaded chicken ( ordered unsalted and fresh for a hair of health ) . this late at night , he was unable to swing a reservation as la ventana sureña , and he would have only been burdening his mother if he swung by their home and requested some leftovers of whatever banquet they had chosen for supper . a break from the house — alongside some semblance of sustenance — had turfed him out and into the kitsch eatery , tucked away in the hopes his eyes would avoid anybody that recognised him . 

glancing out of the window , being greeted with the mid-october frost , his broad shoulders shrugged and fletcher replied : “ see what ?? if you tell me you just saw lights in the sky or a little green man , i’m calling bullshit . order a strong coffee and a slap in the face if that’s the case . “ never a believer , he knew the spooky season was ever encroaching . a concrete face with unmoving features spoke of his distain of the scary , the creepy , and the conspiracy . rejecting all things ghostly seemed an extreme sport in such an environment . 

[fletcherliu]

chibanao​:

“Not surprising,” Chiba said with a shrug. “But hey, can she really blame me? When my bestie asks, I have to comply, right? If it were something less innocent… and also I was protecting my own reputation as well, I didn’t want her to know that about me yet,” he added, making a serious face. He could easily lie about it though, any bruises could’ve been from his job as well, it wasn’t so easy for Fletcher, so he would stand by the other’s side if he could. 

Chiba chuckled. He was far too drunk for this, though it mostly resulted in him finding the compliments and niceties funny, had he been sober, he would’ve waved them off. “I got your back, man,” he said. Which was about all the words Chiba knew to use, he wasn’t much for fancy words, instead he would give advice, that was his way of showing he cared for someone else, that he cared for Fletcher. Because truly, he did, there were very few people who knew everything about him, and who had seen him through it all.

he was an acquired taste . he was marmite , caviar , cilantro ; not many people thought of fletcher as anything more than a stuck-up rich kid , somebody who cosied up in his gated community and sipped spirits from his rooftop . part of that was true — the male was comfortable , and he certainly preferred his own company to that of other humans , but chiba was the only exception . even the act of agreeing to go for a drink , to spending time in a dive such as this ( where he was sure he’d return home with some sort of venereal disease ) it was made all the more bearable by present company . it seemed that was what his life had become , a string of pit-stops made possible by the filter of good people that had peppered the surface of his armour . 

“ bestie ?? what are we , twelve year old girls ?? “ the male scoffed , an inherent need to take the discussion down a peg or two to avoid the two crying whiskey tears on each other’s shoulders , slurring about how much they loved each other , how they needed one another to navigate through each day . being emotionless was easier , a blanched slate without mark nor blemish , a form of protection outside his dress blues and machine guns . shielding his lips with the lip of the glass , he commented with a slight twist of his mouth ; “ got your back too , buddy . “

[fletcherliu]

nfldunn​:

“no shit? at least i know you’re not using me as a piece of eye candy like half the middle aged women in moonbeam do when i go for runs,” gunner joked, giving a small shake of his head as he did. his tattoos were things he got when the mood struck - usually to mean something, sometimes not, and he’d had most of them so long that for the most part, he didn’t even realize that he hadn’t been born with them. from the raven and dragonfly on his arm - you have to kill the person you were born to be in order to become the person you wanna be, or at least that’s what it meant to him - to the roman numerals on his ribs or the full back piece, they were all things that he probably wouldn’t know what he looked like without if it wasn’t for old paparazzi photos. sitting himself on the tattoo bed, gunner lifted his leg up and tugged the bottom of his jeans, fingers folding it up neatly and quickly until it was around his knee, leaving his calf on full display. “thanks- i figured it was about time for me to not hate my job.” it was - mostly - a joke, but his shoulders lifted in a small shrug anyway. “what about you? what’s new in your life?”

a tut of his tongue to his upper teeth . fletcher knew of , from first hand experience , the looming gaze from roswell’s pension population , being the target of a few leers and giggles himself . it was one of the many , countless reasons why satellite sports complex had become his home for all workouts , big or small , for then , at the very least , he could enjoy his exercises in privacy . the story of his ink was far different , and yet here they were — two men getting inked spontaneously for the sheer thrill of it . every piece , every line and design and intricacy behind the meaning , had been calculated by fletcher liu , as was every move in his life , a set of carefully studies chess moves replicated on the checkerboard of reality . a spot was identified — up the bone of his ulna — and pointed out to the artist , who was pulling sheets from her flash and drawing over the design onto transfer paper . “ i’m testament to that , buddy . the moment it starts feeling like work is the time where you jump ship and get out of that damn place . i commend you for having the strength to do that , “ and the courage to completely uproot his comfort and start anew . when the conversation was directed to his court , fletcher’s nose scrunched ; “ well , let’s just say my solo days may be done . i don’t want to tempt fate , but cupid’s arrow is , for once , teetering in my favour . “ 

[fletcherliu]

victoriaadsuar​:

“you couldn’t class up the place if you tried,” she shoots back, though it’s not a dig at him but rather a praise for her home away from home. “she’s completely null and void of class. sucks it up like a vamp and spits it out somewhere down the road. set foot in here and you’re as grimy and hopeless as the rest of us. all part of her charm.” she may hate working but only in the way that she hates authority, hates being asked to do anything or worse, expected to do it. the pony’s filled with all sorts of memories—the good, the bad, and the ugly—stretching all the way back to her childhood when her mom would name drop the place before disappearing for a bit or the time the ‘do not enter’ wall prominently featured a polaroid of her flipping off the bartender that confiscated her fake ID. those are the easier ones to tackle, water under the bridge compared to the recent memories that sting too hard to do anything more than push ‘em away to be dealt with later. “real question: where the fuck are you buying shirts that still need cufflinks? isn’t that like, bridgerton shit?” 

as much as fletcher talked down the wild pony , those cigarette-browned walls and the ‘ trophies ‘ hanging on the walls , dusty old taxidermy from the hunters of old , he would be lost without the place . he wouldn’t be caught dead at planet 7 , and nobody above the age of thirty was welcome at area 51 , unless of course you were an ageing DJ clawing onto the threads of a dead-and-buried career . drinks were watered down and overpriced , and bar snacks should have come with a health warning ; even so , the oldest of the liu siblings found himself sauntering through those doors at every opportunity , ordering spirits and swirling bitter liquids in the swell of his glass . “ you’ve never heard of anyone wearing cufflinks before ?? it’s not bridgerton anything . when you have high quality shirts , you need high quality accessories . “ when his money wasn’t being siphoned into the bar , it was being spent on egyptian cotton , italian cigarettes , french cars .. and for what purpose ?? to brag to those beneath him ?? to harbour a sense of achievement when , really , he was as miserable as the next man ?? thoughts were lost in the next puff of nicotine . “ i wouldn’t expect you to understand . “ 

[fletcherliu]

colorbops​:

She. Anton’s brows shoot right up towards the sandy hues of his bleached and dyed curls. Another quick scan over the other and he supposes that it is, in fact, bizarrely normal to hear the personification pop out of his mouth. It sounds like a supplication, as though enough humanising might bring the car to life enough for it— she —to repair itself. “Yeah, nah, I… don’t,” he admits. Another quick glance, this time over their surroundings, and he spots some familiar additions to the crows: Students of his, phones whipped out and filming the meltdown. Anton can’t really blame their amusement. “You got insurance, though, right?”

it was so normalised , in fact , that anton’s hesitation was water off a duck’s back to fletcher liu . he was so wrapped up among his own thoughts that the side-eye hadn’t been picked up upon , the slight raise in the other’s voice , the stifling of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation . in that moment there was nothing ridiculous about it , as a grown man paced back and forth trying not to shed a tear over the damaged paintwork of his prized vehicle . oh , what a sad little life . 

“ well , yeah , sure i do — i got insurance comin’ out my ass , but that’s not the point . someone came up and fucking scraped my car . my girl . my baby .. don’t you have something that you care about that much ?? “ something that was worth double its material value in emotional weight . 

[fletcherliu]

chibanao​:

Kinda his thing. Sadly it was Chiba’s as well. Though he hadn’t done much talking at all before. But everything he didn’t get to say, he threw out of him. All the anger and dispair that he felt when his ex had her second miscarriage, every bit of frightful certainty when they broke up, it was all so easy to throw a punch and not have to worry about talking about his feelings. Sure, he did that more than Fletcher, but it wasn’t as if he was much better at holding important conversations with anything. He was still at odds with his sister, and he knew it was all on him for being shit at communicating. 

“I know,” he said, in drunken stupor, able to see Fletcher’s distress, but not able to offer him anything else than advice sung at him since he was a baby. “Meh, but isn’t everything. I’m still waiting for Mia to come after me,” he said laughing. “She’s going to be so mad at me for playing along, but no worries, I’ll put in a good word in for you too,” he said. “It’s okay that she doesn’t understand why we do it, but hey, she’s a good person, she’ll want to understand if she loves you, and I’m pretty sure she does.”

in the darkness of their conversation , in the realisation that their friendship had been born by their own inability to communicate like ‘ regular ‘ folk , came the bark of laughter , a strange sound that was half a cough and half a roar from fletcher’s chest . laughter was such a rarity that , once it hit the air , it oxidised like a precious metal and formed an unfamiliar sound entirely . “ she’s gonna have your head once she realises you’ve been complicit this entire time , my insider . it’s been an entire military operation outside of the base . “ a long game of he said , she said . a prolonged playground activity . it was as though they were children , asking their friend to tell their crush that somebody like them ; for an adult , at the ripe age of thirty-one , fletcher sure was inept when it came to relationships . 

“ she’s a good person , and so are you — even if you don’t believe you are . you’re the most loyal friend i’ve ever had , ‘n i appreciate all you do for me , all you put up with for my benefit , “ fletcher often wondered why chiba hadn’t given up on him , just like his parents had , just like the world had seemed to . perhaps it was helped by a mild intoxication , by the knowledge that chiba was likely too far gone to remember the conversation come morning , but for once he was willing to spill his truths , to let the other know just how much they meant to him . 

[fletcherliu]

itszaorwhatever​:

“hey! halloween is most certainly not the worst time of year, it’s the best time of the year! how dare you.” za huffed, giving fletcher a brief stern look, hands resting on her hips. in the time she’s known fletcher one of her favorite things to do with the guy has always been to help brainstorm a last minute halloween costume and nine times out of ten she always felt like he looked better than she did! “you know, you outta just be the grinch for halloween,” she teased, playfully sticking her tongue out, before erupting into a small fit of laughter. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding. you know what this means though, right?” a playful smirk spreads on her lips, “we need to hit up the ol’ callisto costume store and see what we can conjure up! are you sure you don’t any anything in mind?”

although he would claim to be an unwilling participant , dragged along by the scruff of his neck kicking , screaming and digging his heels into the tarmac , there was a twitch of a smirk in the corners of fletcher’s mouth . “ the grinch is christmas , i know that much — and it’ll take me hours to get in and out of a fluffy green outfit . i’ll have to pass , “ his types of costumes were low maintenance , lazy and often tugged from the back of his wardrobe the night before , pilfering through abandoned makeup from past hookups to mark his skin in an amateur wound . begrudgingly the male followed alongside zarina towards the costume store , pace growing slower and slower as they approached . “ i’ve honestly got no plans whatsoever . last year i went as mia wallace — borrowed a skirt , wore one of my shirts , bought a black wig and drew lipstick down my nose . easy . “ it was no surprise he hadn’t won any of the costume competition categories . 

[victoriaadsuar]

who: open  where: outside the wild pony 

the faded grey hoodie—plucked off the peg by the door where it’d been hanging for months, maybe even years before she claimed it—dwarfs her, with sleeves that dangle well past her hands and enough room to fit two or three of her within the zipper. it does the trick though, blocking out the slight chill as she fishes her box of cigarettes from the pocket and pushes outside. the weather’s shifting, only noticeable at night, though that seems to be the only time she finds herself outside. or awake at all, really. her body loosens with the first inhale, enough to notice someone else leaning against her usual spot, near a crack in the sidewalk that kind of looks like a face, especially when she’s been drinking. “what are you in for?” she drolls by way of greeting, taking up the space next to them instead and letting the smoke curl up to the stars. 

[fletcherliu]

the wild pony was the routine stop-off once fletcher was given the all clear to hand in his weapons and break free from the military base . he wished there was somewhere a little more up market , a watering hole with doors on the toilets or that didn’t feature the phone numbers of strangers grafitti’d ‘ for a good time ‘ , but roswell was roswell , a small town slowly slipping into the history books as the alien landing fell further and further afield . once he’d stared through to the bottom of his first measure of whiskey fletcher had found himself flicking his thumb against the spark of his lighter , illuminating the dregs of a summer evening as they crept towards those dull , bitter winter nights . “ i’d have thought you would’ve got used to me using this bar as my stress-relief , adsuar , “ the comment was shielded by a plume of pale smoke , swirling into the ether in a coil . “ i’m here enough , classing up the place . i’d give you ten bucks if you can point out another guy inside wearing cufflinks , “ 

[fletcherliu]

scggy​:

            “  jesus,   okay.  ”     like waving a white flag ,    his hands are held up in surrender for only a moment before slipping back into his jacket pockets.    he has seen that look before.   the one usually followed by   are you dumb   in which soggy would nod   only once   and never give any real consideration to.         A MILITARY MAN   ,   he could tell .    he’s aggressive,   kind of mean,    and extremely handsome     so much so that if soggy weren’t so intimidated he would have asked for his workout routine.       “  no,  yeah,  no,  you’re right.  fuck russia.  i was thinking that anyway ‘cause putin’s a bitch.  ”   the word bitch is emphasized,  the B popping between his lips.     “  you know,  you kind of remind me of my eighth grade english teacher,  like there’s no right answer.  ”      the two were incomparable in every fashion.   there’s a lack of steadiness in the conversation;  a sense of unpleasantry filling their surroundings.    “  you wouldn’t get an american flag,  would you ?”

it wasn’t entirely his fault , that fletcher was such a tough nut to crack . it was true that the male was an acquired taste , that not many endured a conversation with him and lived to tell the tale , but could you really blame him ?? throughout his upbringing — the iron fist of his father — he had fought to justify every word , scrabbled and scrounged for approval ; everything had been a fight and , now that he was creeping into the wrong side of thirty , such aggression was permanently burned into his form . a hesitation ( something of rarity for the oldest liu ) as he sensed soggy’s retreat . beneath the brutish exterior was a brother , was a son , was somebody who , despite his meanness , never wanted to hurt anyone emotionally . at least a bruise from a right-hook healed and faded ; fletcher was a testament to psychological issues never healing , a broken bone forever twisted although the wound had long since closed . “ there’s probably no right answer , but that also means there’s no wrong answer , “ he responded , with a newfound softness in his tone that seemed almost alien from the mouth of a soldier , “ no , no . i wouldn’t ever get the american flag on me , either . i’m just counting the days until i can take me and my sister back to singapore . i wouldn’t last a day with that brand on me , and i wouldn’t want to , “ glancing over at the other , his sizeable biceps crossed over an expanse of sculpted chest , “ is there something up there that you like , for yourself ?? “ 

[fletcherliu]

norahqs​:

“oh good point but i think you could rock that” she replies, eyes scanning back up to the board in front of them. nora was still undecided on what she wanted or if she was going to get anything at all, a lot of the designs weren’t speaking to her, “you sure? you could always try something new” she shrugs. “maybe” she muses, “i kinda like the flowers, up there” she points to one of them, “i think that might go well with some i already have”.

“ oh , come on , huynh — you’re acting as though i wouldn’t rock anything i put on my body . “ confidence wasn’t in short supply when it came to the eldest liu , and for good reason ; the male was built like a greek god , like a renaissance painting , and the decorations across his skin were mere adornments to such perfection . whether he was covered in homemade designs or those crafted by the greats , he would wear them with pride — badges of honour , his flesh a scrapbook . squinting his gaze to focus on the flowers , he turned and patted nora on the back in an act of companionship . “ why don’t you get it ?? my treat . “