Bibamus, moriendum est

Dr. Owen Parrish || Abnormal Psychology Professor || Human Everyone carries around his own monsters. -Richard Pryor

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

♗

Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse's lap.

Owen hadn’t noticed how uncharacteristically quiet Donnie has been until a soft snore grabs the professor’s attention. Ripping his eyes away from his textbook, Owen looks down at the head in his lap and can’t restrain the amused smile that arises. 

He snores.

Owen hadn’t even noticed the snoring the last time he and Donovan had shared a bed. Then again, they’d both sort of just passed out that night, practically dead to the world. Does Donovan know he snores, he wonders as he gently passes his fingers through the man’s hair. Donnie shifts in his sleep, a hand coming up to rest on Owen’s knee.

Owen sighs lightly, returns his attention to his textbook.

About half an hour later, his back has grown stiff from staying in the same position for so long and he’s very tempted to shove Donnie off his couch. Another ten minutes later, he finally acts on the urge.

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Evening Came to the Corners of My Mind || Donovan & Owen

[donovan-archer-blog]

The streets were relatively empty by the time Donnie managed to get out of the office (and the hated cubicle). He wasn’t the type to be found wandering about a bookshop in the quaint part of town–and as a matter of fact, that’s exactly how Donovan had not planned on spending his evening. At first he’d been planning on stopping for a meal–his favorite gourmet sandwich shop was somewhere around here, after all–but those intentions were firmly derailed at a glance through the bookstore’s window. 

Eyes snagged on a familiar mop of dark hair and Donnie very nearly stopped on the spot. A sly grin curled across his face and it didn’t take a moment’s deliberation to have him turning on the spot and walking inside the little shop. He spared half a nod to the owner behind her little desk before walking (read: slinking) over to the row and individual in question. Not bothering to see what section he was now occupying with Owen he leaned a shoulder against the shelf opposite the one the other man was facing and grinned.

“Well, well. Hello, sunshine.”

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Owen looks up, slightly startled by the sudden presence at his side. When he sees who it is, though, he offers a light smile and trying to ignore the warm feeling that spreads over his face. “Hi, Donnie. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” The book in Owen’s hands is returned to the shelf and his eyes return to the fading titles in front of him. “I didn’t think you were the type to frequent hole-in-the-wall bookshops,” he comments, lips pulling into a teasing smirk, as if a thin veneer of playfulness might hide the way his hands fidget nervously or how the heat beneath his skin manages to spread down his neck.

Being near someone as self-confident and outgoing as Donovan has a way of making Owen feel dwarfed in comparison, and if Owen were a trickling stream then Donnie would be a waterfall. 

All in all, it’s a refreshing feeling.

[ejfletcher-blog]

“What can I say? You just looked extremely pitiful,” she teased, rolling her eyes slightly. “I have a soft spot for pitiful looking people who drop their keys down side walk rain grates or whatever the hell those things are called, I don’t even know,” she said with a shrug, taking another long sip of the drink.

“Not a whole lot. There’s Vane, the night club which is more like a drug circus than anything else,” she began hypocritically, “the pier which often is flooded with seagulls, and a few rocks, trees, and some dust on the street sides that might be interesting to the normal passerby. It’s like choosing the best of the worst.”

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

“I think ‘miniature pits to hell’ would be the most apt description for those things,” Owen responds with a wry smile. “And I did not look ‘pitiful’. Just a bit distressed, maybe.” Even as he says it he sounds unsure, wrinkling his nose at the thought. The words are obviously meant in jest though, so he lets the matter slide.

Owen hums thoughtfully, nodding along as EJ speaks. “Sounds... quaint. You must get bored though,” he notes. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who’d be happy in a small town. Not a particularly engaging place for active minds, not with all these barriers.”

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire.

                                                                                                                                  Happy New Year's!

[oblivionsdaughter]

He is stubborn, she realizes, wasting precious seconds in wait of an answer that doesn’t come. And so when she snaps his wrist and a howl goes up to shatter the silence, Ellis feels it is a just reward. If he will not speak, if he will not admit his transgressions in his own tongue, these unquenchable cries are the least he can offer her. 

“Pain is a wondrous thing, Dr. Parrish, is it not?” She comments, folding her own hands primly together when he asks if this is about the boy. At long last. “I find it has no equal when it comes to jogging human memory.” Ellis watches him scramble back, trying to put distance between them in vain; distance she can eradicate in less than a millisecond if she so pleases. “Do yourself a favour and tell me why you did it, Professor. Why one as well-versed in psychology as yourself chose to defend the monster rather than the true victim of that charade.” She takes a step towards him, as if any more incentive is required. “Do it, and perhaps you shall be rid of me for once, and for all. Fail me again and it will be I who shall be rid of you.”

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Monster. The word is enough to make him take pause. The only monster he’d seen back then was the creature, but Ellis couldn’t possibly talking about it. He’s missing something, he realizes with a sharp intake of breath. Before he can say anything, though, Ellis steps forward and Owen flinches involuntarily, jostling his arm-

For a split second, his vision wavers and he clamps a hand over his mouth, swaying slightly as his wrist seems to radiate nothing but a fierce and sharp pain, like knives grinding through his flesh. It takes a long moment for him to find his voice. “I don’t know, Ellis,” he says, voice cracking and his whole body seems to quake. “I don’t- I don’t understand. I didn’t- I saw him hurt and I thought it must’ve been his- his parents or- or- or something. I just wanted to- I wanted to help.” Breaths are sharp, fleeting things now. He’s never broken a bone before but he’s sure that his wrist is beyond a slight crack. It feels like it’s been turned to broken china, like there’s something inside, a hot and insidious thing, ready to burst from his skin.

[ejfletcher-blog]

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she assured him, taking a short sip of her drink, noting it as being strong enough to burn the back of her throat comfortably, a quality she enjoyed in her drink. She raised an eyebrow at him in amusement as he talked, shaking her head slightly.

“You really don’t need to pay me back, you know, it’s fine. You’re the one who was having car issues, I’m just being relatively nice to you,” she told him, not sure if he would actually listen to her when she told him that he didn’t need to repay her in any way. She really didn’t need for him to.

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

“I’m the one who was having car issues, but you’re the one who stopped to help,” Owen points out, hiding his mouth behind the rim of his glass. Already, he can feel warmth tingling over his palette and throat. He isn’t sure what the mark is, but it’s definitely good enough that he’d be compelled to buy a bottle for himself.

“Anyway, what else is there to do around here? I really haven’t taken the time to look around town and work has a habit of keeping me longer than I expect.”

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Feelings towards Ellis?

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Evening Came to the Corners of My Mind || Donovan & Owen

It’s a mixture of boredom and impulsivity that sends Owen to the bookstore this evening. His house is too quiet, the spaces inside too vast and uninhabited and he needs to be occupied before his own mind drives him up the wall. It’s happened before. 

Inside the store is warm and the building thrums with sluggish energy. People in a rush to get their hands on the soft, cracked spines of old books that smell of dust and tobacco ash. Sure, it’s quiet here, but it’s a good quiet. It’s a calming wave of eagerness where everyone steps lightly while eyes move rapidly over the shelves. Owen hasn’t come here with any specific goal in mind besides ‘get out of the house’, so he just walks. He walks through the rows of shelves, weaves around people who barely blink as a stranger breezes by them. 

He finally settles down at the mystery section, the one he only realized was a mixture of fiction and true crime on his third visit. He sits lotus-style in front of the shelf and eagerly looks over the titles that face him, all dressed in a myriad of colors and sizes. There are a few Anne Rule novels amongst the Janet Evanovich and Michael Connelly books and he picks one at random, its cover decorated with an ominous harvest moon hanging over a dark street, the author’s name written across the top in a bold typeface that dwarfs the novel’s title.

The actions of simply leafing through the pages, scanning over chapter titles and opening paragraphs, they leave him feeling like his lungs are light and feet are steady. 

Thank god for small mercies, he thinks wryly.

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Text: JC&Open

JC: Don't freak out. I'm in the hospital.

JC: can you bring my insurance card?

Owen: I'm very pointedly not freaking out. At all.

Owen: And doing a fucking swell job of it, I might add.

Owen: Where the fuck did you put it?

Owen: JC????

[temhelps]

ASK MY MUSE A QUESTION AND I CAN ONLY RESPOND WITH A GIF OF THEM

[florentin-didier-blog]

Innocent may have been a stretch before, but now Florentin’s grin is downright predatory. “I’d offer you my phone, but I’m too attached to the past. No cel phones for me. Don’t believe in them. They rob us of the pleasures of conversation,” he lies, not even bothering to hide the square imprint of his iPhone in his front pocket. “Perhaps some company would do you good, ami. No point in ruining your whole day, oui?” And Florentin knew the perfect place for company. He placed a certain importance on the quality of the mattresses in his ownership, and his most recent purchase was a lovely California King with plenty of rooms for friends…

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Owen’s lips quirk at the offer as he looks at the man thoughtfully. “I don’t always make the best company,” he tells him with a half-shrug. He looks between his car, the grate, and the stranger. Owen knows that he’ll need to either find a way to fetch his keys or get a new set, which will inevitably cost a good chunk of money he doesn’t have. Just the thought makes his brain and wallet ache. “But, honestly, if the offer’s up...” he trails off, a hand coming up to absentmindedly pull it his left ear. 

Putting off his responsibilities won’t hurt. What’s the worse that can happen?

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

ejfletcher:

EJ thanked Owen for pulling out her bar stool before hopping on. It was definitely a different experience than being in Vane. At Vane, there were flashing lights, loud music, and people dancing in every corner. Here, the were children with their parents, business people sharing large plates of food, and no more than a few people at the bar. At his question of food, she shook her head, not even bothering to look over the menu. “No thanks. I’m not very hungry, thank you though.” She never did seem very hungry, and if she was, she could eat when she got back to the Con. She just hoped it wouldn’t be raining too hard when she needed to head back. There was something she needed to check out at the local university before she went back to the Con, and as long as it wasn’t storming, she doubted she would have too much of a problem. EJ called the bartender over and got two glasses of Scotch poured. One thing about being recognized as having friends in high places was that she was lucky enough not to have to show her ID when she drank at the Pub. 

Owen gives a half-shrug. “If you’re sure.” He fishes out his wallet and orders the cheapest thing he can spot on the menu - french fries. Delicious, greasy, nutritious french fries. They’re a bit of a weakness for him, no matter how unhealthy eating them makes him feel afterward. 

He picks at his food carefully, ignoring the pot of ketchup on the table, and washes down the food with a long pull of his drink. “So,” he begins, “just so you know in advance, I’m gonna spend a good chunk of time trying to think of ways to repay you. Which will probably get annoying. So, I’m just gonna apologize in advance.” 

[oblivionsdaughter]

Ellis, Ellis, Ellis… She likes hearing her name between his breathless lips; the mixture of fear and awe-ful desperation in his voice does things to her that are positively titillating. And it is a pity; for if their history were not so tainted, she could have shown him the kind of a pleasure a man only dreams of; her craft perfected over countless decades of practice with only the best. 

“Well surely he had a funeral…” Ellis pouts dramatically, her tone too nonchalant for the topic, for the bruising, twisting force with which she holds his delicate wrist. “After all you will remember he was much loved, seeing as you yourself cared for the boy enough so as to toss his transgressions under the rug.” She cocks her head and searches his eyes for any flicker of recognition, any admittance of guilt, but finds none. He denies it, even now… There is a note of quiet fury that weighs down on her ribcage, like the ghostly press of a broken piano key. Ellis raises his palm gingerly to her mouth, licking the pinpricks of blood from his pink flesh. And then, without so much as a hint, without any warning, she snaps his wrist and feels the crunch of tiny bones beneath his skin. The punishment delivered, Ellis tosses the offending limb aside and raises her voice so as to be heard over his wail.“Try harder, Owen. Your memory disappoints me.”

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Owen tries to make sense of her words, tries to arrange them in a way that will make the cog slide into place and spark his memory. Even as he tries, though, he can feel the floor dropping out from beneath him, his stomach filling with dread. 

He doesn’t know.

Before he can open his mouth to say as much, he hears the sharp crack of his bones turning to dust between Ellis’ fingers. There is an animalistic outcry that manages to reach him through the fog of pain, and Owen realizes that these awful noises are passing from his lips. 

“Ellis,” he whimpers, pulling his bad arm to his chest as he tries to scramble backward, put as much distance between him and his captor. “I don’t know what you want from me!” he snaps. “Who would I try to protect? I don’t have anyone! The- the only person I’ve ever tried to shield from this is-”

The student.

He looks up at Ellis, wide-eyed and cheeks tear-stained. “Is- is this about h-him? Th-that boy?” he stutters. Owen’s whole body begins to tremble, though he isn’t sure if it’s from the pain or fear. Both are off the charts, his wrist throbs in tandem with the rapid beating of his heart, which feels like it might claw its way up his throat. His body cries for escape, his proximity to Ellis feels like standing in a burning building and he’s only got two choices: leave, or get burned.

[lucachristensen]

Audrey offered a gentle smile when he admitted to not paying attention and so his keys suffered for it. His enjoyment when it came to her tea and a warming smile moving over her lips. “I do own the shop,” she admitted with a nod. “I’m Audrey. Don’t worry, Owen. I am sure we can get those right out of there and or you may have to see about getting an extra pair,” her words weren’t mean as she looked to the grate, pulling out her phone she turned the flash light on and looked into the darkness. “I think they might be close,” she gestured with her hand in case he was interested in seeing. 

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

He offers a her a half-smile. “Nice to meet you, Audrey, though I wish the circumstanced had been a bit different.” When she gestures to him, Owen moves closer, peeking between the grate bars. “I think if I had a coat hanger or one of those weird Gopher claw things, I might be able to reach it,” he says. “You wouldn’t happen to have either of those on hand, would you?” he asks with a rueful smile.

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Text || JC & Owen

[jcwaya-blog]

[JC]: Stop speaking french. I’ve got to go, I’ll text you when things die down

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

[Owen]: I’m holding you to that, okay? I don’t want to have to swim over to you, but I will.

[florentin-didier-blog]

Florentin watched delightedly as that bitable red sprung up in the man’s cheeks just like he had hoped it would. He bit back a smile as he raised an eyebrow at the man’s decidedly ineloquent response. “…Indeed. You’ll have to call AAA. I suppose you must find a way to occupy yourself until they arrive,” he said, the picture of innocence.

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Owen clears his throat, clearing any invading thoughts from his mind to turn back to the situation at hand. “I, um. I locked my phone in my car,” he admits ruefully. “I didn’t really think I’d be losing my keys today when I left them in there, but it was still pretty stupid of me.” 

At least I have some company while I wallow in self-pity.

Wait, nope. Don’t even think about it.

[oblivionsdaughter]

She sees the fire in his eyes when he drops to his knees; the lamb looking up with the eyes of a wolf. And that’s precisely what she aims to draw out of him. Only by the time she’s done with the professor, Ellis envisions he will be all beast and no lamb. Every pretense dropped like a second skin. 

“Did you ever imagine it would happen any other way?” Ellis replies, folding her hands together pristinely as she looks down on her charge. The idea almost incenses her. It doesn’t matter - she doesn’t want him to think; because it’s that busy mind of his she hates so much. Most men wear their brutality on their sleeves; Owen’s is hidden beneath layer upon layer of deceit; a sweet smile, polite mannerisms, psychology this and overanalysis that… It gives him an edge over the others; one they don’t see coming.

Ellis does.

 The sharp scent of blood assaults her nostrils. And though she isn’t hungry, when it comes to Owen, she is always tempted to take a bite or two. In a flash she has his hand, giving it a menacing squeeze to draw more bloody beads to the surface. “-And what?” She demands, black eyes locked to his, “You want to stick your head in the sand and pretend it never happened? I’m afraid that’s a fool’s dream. You missed his funeral, Mr. Parrish… And I’m here to tell you all about it.”

[hardtimesparrish-blog]

Owen winces when his wrist is caught in a steel grip, crimson pearls skirting across his skin. Fear is a strong paralytic, always has been for Dr. Parrish. His heart feels fit to burst behind his ribs, the metronome in his chest beats to a rhythm too erratic for him to count. “F-funeral?” he stutters, throat clenching around the words. He swallows the desert in his mouth, wincing as he tries to turn his head away, avert his gaze away from Ellis. Maybe it’s from the fear or adrenaline, but he is unable to connect the dots, the cogs of his mind turning and getting nowhere fast. 

If fear is a paralytic then confusion is an amphetamine, it makes his mind work on overdrive in a futile attempt to imagine an escape plan, a deus ex machina for him to weasel his way out of a hopeless situation. “Ellis... Eliis, please.” He hates the burning sensation along the rims of his eyes, despises the lump the forms in his throat. “I don’t want this. I don’t- I’ll do anything, just leave me alone,” he pleads, hands trembling as he weakly tries to tug free of her hold.