todays bird
AnasAbdin
hello vonnie
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KIROKAZE
occasionally subtle
ojovivo
trying on a metaphor
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styofa doing anything
Sweet Seals For You, Always
⁂
Misplaced Lens Cap
d e v o n
Jules of Nature
wallacepolsom
DEAR READER
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@jayfarleys-blog
Jay → Shane.
Shane: I want to sign a pair of tits tonight. That's when you know you've officially made it.
Jay: Here I was, thinking underwear being thrown at you was the ultimate sign you'd made it.
Jay: You've done this before.
Jay → Charlie
Charlie: You're right, but then again, it's not exactly a love song either, is it?
Charlie: Joe who??
Jay: Joe who?
Jay: I thought I wasn't down with the kids.
Jay: Y'know, jacks off in bushes as he peers through the curtain-less windows of an unsuspecting victim.
Jay → Veronica
Veronica: I've never heard anyone call you that before.
Veronica: But I will declare it your official new nickname once you sang for me.
Jay: I'm not breaking the hearts of my fans when they expect a proposal after I serenade you.
Jay → Celeste
Celeste: You're pretty confident in your skill set my love.
Celeste: It would not be a karaokee night without miss Spears so obviously If you seek Amy- we can totally make that a duet.
Jay: The adoring crowd makes my confidence that much more justified.
Jay: Who's Amy?
Jay: Am I supposed to understand what the hell you just said?
BARNES.
At the appearance of a smile - even if slight, it was mindless the way the corners of Liv’s mouth attempted to mirror it even as her brain twisted and turned with distracting and irrelevant ruminations. She was thankful for the momentary lightness, even if it had little effect on her expression. “Careful now; you keep that up and I’ll start to think there’s a belly laugh somewhere in the near future.”
A hum of contemplation left her throat before allowing a single tut of her tongue against her teeth. “Am I a bad person if I say that I honestly couldn’t give two shits if I won you over or not?” Her tone was flat as her olive hues stayed fixed to the sidewalk ahead of them. And there it was, a moment of authenticity that would never fall from her lips if placed in different company.
It was strange how natural it felt walking alongside him. Perhaps it was the fact that he knew enough about her; he had more insight into Olivia Barnes than those who shared blood with her. Perhaps it was because she knew enough about him that it made her feel less alone.
As her gaze traveled upwards, following his pointed finger towards the starry night above, her feet planted. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she allowed her focus to land on the constellations above. “Mmm. Broken wing there, I see it. God, this reminds me of home.” A deep breath left her throat as the expanse above made her feel like a tiny speck of dust; it always did.
Why did she suddenly feel like crying?
What’s more… why did she almost grab his wrist to pull him into the bar? Tucking her hand into her pocket, she backed towards the entrance, her usual artificial smile pulling onto her lips. “Alcohol, please. If we’re going to do this, I’m going to need to be at least a couple shots deep.”
He turns away from the inky black of night, permitting his eyes to coast over her as water over level rock. It hesitates, caught against doe eyes and he inhales languidly. He almost doubts her mockery of an innocuous smile but he’s not obtrusive, doesn’t overthink whatever thorn may exist between her third and fourth rib. An almost is half-empty, not enough to form suspicion. “Is my company really that bad?” He challenges, the corner of his mouth lifting upward. It’s done so with purpose and he meets it with a limp hand against his sternum. “Cuts deep, Princess.” The entrance to the bar swings open and he steps into it with leaping confidence. Wherever the inebriated could be found, face-down into sticky surfaces, was where he felt most at home. It was far better to reside here than to return to the boarded windows and desolate vicinity of his home - a word almost too warm for his place of residence. “Is this where I tell Steve to put our drinks on my tab and you sneak out the bathroom window?” A pause. He shrinks his shoulders downwards to reach the shell of her eardrum, his voice no louder than a whisper. “I’ll tell you a secret: if you take a sharp right after the window, you get back to the main street about a few yards down.”
I’m not the mom friend, I’m the dad friend: tries to take care of his friends but is too distant and emotionally clumsy to be any good at it
JAYMES.
@jayfarleys There had never been a dull moment ever since nova had been working as a part of the team for the BAU. It had taken her awhile but she had finally felt like the close knitted group were a family and one that she enjoyed coming to work to everyday. That was until her workmate had told her that she was pregnant and taking twelve months of maternity leave and having someone replacing her wasn’t something that nova had found easy to cope with. There had been months of bittersweet moments before they had given Ruby her work friend a small farewell and good luck to her first time with motherhood. Today however was the day that she had been dreading ever since her friend had told her the best and worst news in the world. Her replacement was showing up. now working in the BAU had taught her a lot of things she was usually very bad at which was; adaptability, multitasking and attention to detail. These were all things she knew she had to pass onto the newcomer as to how much shoes they had to fill in for their replacement knowing that Ruby was going to be sincerely missed. Walking into her office was an odd feeling, not seeing Ruby’s face bothering her whenever she had the time too if she wasn’t on a case that she was working on. nova sighed heavily as she sits down getting started for her day as she turns her computer screen on looking at all the alerts that had came over night. “oh god… I wonder if they will cope on their first case” she sighs reading the lot of information that she had received.
“Nova” a voice speaks up from behind her, as she turns in her chair to face her boss, seeing him standing in the middle of the doorway. “Ruby’s replacement is here… now he’s name is Jay Farley, please be nice to him welcome him… we all miss Ruby but she’ll be back okay, besides he’s had months of training to lead up to this” he explained knowing how nervous the team were about this replacement it had been years after all since any of their team had to think about being replaced with someone else. “Show him around, give him as much information as possible and whatever he needs please assist him” he pauses. “Remember we will be watching you too” he lectures softly, before giving the blonde a small smile and stepping out of her office. Nova groans at the thought, she had always loathed newcomers being clueless not knowing a thing about what they were doing or where anything was. of course it wasn’t their fault but it was such a hassle trying to teach them how things were done around here and she was mostly thankful she didn’t have to deal with that other than teaching him office duties.
Standing up from her chair as she tucks it in under her desk, grabbing her coffee mug that had quote ‘ a day without laughter is a day wasted’ in a baby pink shade with glitter all over it and was known as nova’s signature mug that shouldn’t be taken from her office… one more thing she had to remind him do not touch her mugs. Walking out from her office as she noticed the unfamiliar man, “Jay Farley?” she called out catching his attention, “I’m Nova Jaymes, I’m the technical analyst I will be giving you information most likely daily whenever each new case comes around,” she pauses remembers that she had been talking an awful lot. “c’mon let me show you to your desk” She stated as she began walking off without him, hoping he’d follow.
He’d almost neglected to remember how it felt to be this exhausted - not that there would ever exist a time where Jay was anything other. Years of disturbed nights were destined to take a toll eventually, mounting up like unopened post at the foot of a doorway. He had simply grown accustomed to living in a half-there state; half-present, half-attentive. Exhaustion having found a home between the lines of his face, sunken deep into the dark beneath his eyes and a heavy-set frown. Though he wore it as well as one may, this fatigue had arrived in the most recent hours - where a case from the Intelligence Unit bled into a new opportunity at the BAU. With high praise and a dusting of his ego, they had offered Jay the opportunity to delve further into his most recent assignment; suggesting his new intel be personally hand-delivered to those he would, once again, work alongside. It was a compliment he had no longer sought for and he accepted it begrudgingly - cutting them off mid-sentence with a caustic “you got it, boss”. It keeps him occupied, he justifies, gives a purpose to the tiredness. Still, at a time where his mind creates a cleft between himself and the living world, he drinks coffee as if it were turbine; plucking a paper cup from a stack of many and filling it with tar-black liquid. He likes it strong, keeps him standing. The mass of strange faces appear to note his thirst, sugaring their greetings honey-sweet, but he had grown accustomed to the hushed whispers and questionable doubt. A haggard expression was not the desired sign of a well-adapted cop. Jay Farley. His accumulating thoughts are interrupted and before he can fathom a suitable response in a much lower, sombre tone, a blonde addresses him as if reading from a checklist. Name, profession, intention. It was all too robotic for his liking. “Damn, they sure as hell treat you well over here,” he trails behind her momentarily, lengthy strides equaling with her own until he’s at her shoulder, the rim of his cup brought to his lower lip. The area is assembled with an immaculate intention, each desk positioned in an orderly fashion. He notes the picture frames as he pursues further, loved ones beaming with a feverish glow. “What next, doughnuts?” When they reach his desk, he sits down instinctively, clasping his hands behind his head and kicks his feet upwards to rest atop of wood. He’s comfortable in this state, despite the bravado which eagerly seeps from such position. “Guessing you’ve heard all about me, Princess.” It’s arrogantly placed, even if it’s an assumption birthed from simple human curiosity. It would be a natural reaction to do her research, explore his written record and query whether he was at all suitable for the given assignment. “But I’m that into wearing my heart on my sleeve, so if you’ve got questions then I’d speak up now. No second chances.”
BAKER.
“You’re pure poetry come to life,” Dakota replied, shaking her head as she tried to keep a smile from appearing on her lips. She couldn’t give him the satisfaction of making her slightly laugh at such a bad joke.
With every step she took further into the apartment, walking through the same floor she had so many times before, Dakota realized something. It felt weird, to be inside Jay’s home —- it was a feeling she never thought she would experience, not with him and not inside four walls that she was so used to. Dakota knew why she felt like that. It was her own fault, no one else to blame. Every passing moment, she was lying to him. Granted, it was by omission, but it was still a lie. Dakota knew that Jay would help her if she asked and that was what scared her.
“Don’t I know it.” Every day was a long day. The life — or lack thereof — she left in New York scared her and she didn’t know what to do if it ever came back and made itself known to the important people in her life. It was only a matter of time before Dakota did something that could jeopardize one of the good things in her life. She had to wonder if she, subconsciously, did this to herself.
“Yeah, and then you’re sleepy and walking barefoot in a broken glass riddled floor.” God, she sounded like a mom. Maybe hers rubbed off on her just before she disappeared into thin air.
The moment she heard his next words, Dakota cursed herself inside of her mind. Why did she think she could keep anything from him? Perhaps she was far more transparent than she thought she was. “Maybe it’s your bare apartment that’s giving me those worry lines. Or maybe they have always been there.” She wasn’t lying, not really, though the whole truth was nowhere to be seen. “Can’t I just come over without getting judged by the face God gave me?” Ah, jokes that acted as a defense mechanism —- a girl’s true best friend.
“Do you have a goddamn broom in this place?” Dakota asked, walking past him and letting her eyes scan the place. She knew the answer and she also knew why she had been so quick to ask it.
“Damn, you can do whatever the hell you want, Dee, but I’d be a pretty appalling friend if I didn’t at least ask.” He fell quiet; something behind his eyes darkening like curtains drawn. A terrible friend seemed almost foreign to him as of late. The truth was, he’d tried convincing himself with a similar sentiment before. His desire to nurture - to protect - stemmed from a time in which his own cowardice had consumed him and his own men had perished. He had chose himself above all others and all that resided in its place was a mountainous weight of guilt. Though time would soon bring sense to events which existed without full comprehension, every choice he made was in desperate hopes of reclaiming a suitable sedative for his wrongdoing. With Dakota, she permitted normality - a step closer to repaying the price. “A broom? What do I look like, Walmart?” The mere insinuation he owned more than the clothes on his back was comical at best and idealistic at worst. He’d inhabited this ransacked building for a lengthy period, boring his eyes into walls where fresh paint had yet to find them. If their companionship had failed to find the pair, one would presume the atmosphere would still seek to remain less than homely. He was only thankful he had so few visitors. “Nice avoidance, by the way. I’m almost proud.” It’s brief, but he smiles half-moon. “Say the word and I’ll drop it,” he prompts for lasting measure, opting to gracefully concede if the subject was much too fragile to explore. Though he cared significantly for the blonde, her well-being far surpassed his own selfish interest. “The curiosity - not another mug.”
COOPER.
Fortunately vomit had rarely had an effect on the man who spent his life surrounded by sights that most couldn’t handle; it was in college they had to stand in on an operation and listen the sound a bone crack, a drill going through ribs and witness what happened when an artery burst mid-surgery. It wasn’t for the faint hearted, but the sharp smell of stale alcohol did get to the back of his throat. The young woman lunged forward and Dan caught her limp body, “Least you could do is help.” Dan whined, looking down to the batons of semi-digested carrot scattered the floor around them. “Casanova has to take one for the te—” Cut off short by a wave convulsions, Dan stepped aside to watch as the woman projectile vomited all over Jay’s pants. “Oh, dude—” He should have been paying more attention to her, but the release of alcohol and the remains of her dinner onto his friends jeans was far more entertaining. “You need to control yourself…”
“-Are you fucking with me?” The question required no response, nor would one be found, as the unfamiliar brunette slipped between both perplexed men and returned to a welcoming howl of inebriated strangers. Bachelorette party, he presumed. The array of feather boas hanging from their necks like an emblem. “I need a damn smoke.” Or ten; he wondered if his lungs would give out by the time his ego had recuperated. “Looks like this night’s ending with me at the laundromat,” he dips his gaze downwards with grimacing effect. The mere stench hummed with a concoction of vodka and takeout - enough to turn his stomach for the proceeding week. “Well, I would be bullshitting if I said this is the worst way I’ve spent Valentine’s.” Though, as the moment existed, it was greatly up for debate. The cherubs would be bowling head first with levity. He expels a disgruntled short breath, the apparent amusement radiating from his companion like the heat off desert sand. “What can I say,” he tacks on with faux sincerity. “You have such an affect on me.”
BARNES.
Perhaps anyone else’s feelings would have been hurt by the man’s vocalization of disinterest in spending time; however, the blonde knew better. She knew self-sabotage like the back of her hand; craving anything to make her feel less hollow inside one second and shoving away anything and anyone that could do just that the next. There was nothing quite like wallowing in your own self-pity, but unlike the tough guy standing before her… today she just didn’t want to be alone.
“Suit yourself.” A single nod as she accepted the rejection, pivoting the opposite direction to head towards a nearby tavern a few blocks up the street; it seemed a work of sheer universal fuckery that a bar would be placed in such close proximity to a goddamn mental clinic. It was like shoving up a methadone clinic next to Narcotics Anonymous.
The deepness of his voice breaking apart the silence caught her by surprise, her gaze tracking back towards him as she continued her journey backward - a grin playing on her lips. “Seems like that damage has already been done, and I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” Spinning in the direction of her movements, she waved her hand for him to fall in step beside her. “First round on me.”
There’s a moment where he expresses something other than disinterest - where he clutches his chest with feigned hurt, twists his top lip upwards into an expression of amusement. “How earnest,” he offers a smile, it’s an uncomfortable and unfamiliar reaction. There’s days which bleed into the next where one never beams from him. He almost forgets it’s possible. “Is this your attempt at winning me over?” Their strides match in length as they walk with an even gait, hands stuffed into the depths of his pockets - a concoction of warmth and comfort. For a moment, he walks in uncomfortable silence, wondering if they’d slip into the depths of their trauma. She was, after all, the only individual to be aware he even sought guidance. Even if she possessed such little awareness for the truth. Perhaps he’d tell her one day, perhaps he’d tell her more. After a long moment, he gestures upwards to a cluster of burning stars. They dot the sky with a bright glow and he finds himself momentarily mesmeried by the clear Texan skies. They existed no less vivid than the hours he endured within the scorching desert, where the sky was torched by signal fire and the grains of sand were in his boots. “If you squint, it looks like a bird.” Stupid.
♩♭
♩ - A song that makes me think of my muse.
damien rice - it takes a lot to know a man
it takes a lot to live, to ask for helpto be yourself, to know and love what you live withit takes a lot to breathe, to touch, to feelthe slow reveal of what another body needswhat are you so afraid to lose?what is it you're thinking that will happen if you do?
♭ - A song that reminds my muse of yours.
coldplay - x & y
when something is brokenand you try to fix ittrying to repair itany way you can i dive in at the deep endyou become my best friend
♮
♮ - A song that shows how my muse feels about yours.
angus + julia stone - crash and burn
will you come backif i turn and run?will you come find meif i crash and burn?
♩, ♪, ♯
♩ - A song that makes me think of my muse.
grandson - bury me face down
i've been on the runsince i was a boybut now i'm done runnin', got another thing comin'watch my enemies get destroyedoh, i've got troubles of more than one kindbut i never sleep, gotta bury me six feet deepwhere the sun don't shine
♪ - A song that is on my muse’s ipod.
lenny kravitz - are you gonna go my way?
but what i really want to know isare you gonna go my way?and I got to got to know
♯ - Your muse’s ringtone in mine’s phone
default.
ringring
♩♭
♩ - A song that makes me think of my muse.
matt maeson - cringe
she said i'm looking like a bad mansmooth criminalshe said my spirit doesn't move like it did beforeshe said that i don't look like me no more no morei said i'm just tiredshe said you're just tired
♭ - A song that reminds my muse of yours.
vance joy - red eye
she don't like small placesgive her highways and bywaysand don't get stuck in her headand it's been so longand i will read into everything you don't sayall of your silent ways
BARNES.
“What can I say? I may not know the way to a man’s heart but I know the way to his liver.” She was usually used to his grouchy demeanour but there was a reason Nora found Jay to be good company despite his best efforts to be dark and brooding. However, he got the best of her just then and she looked back at him with an easily flustered expression, cheeks tinted red as she hesitated through her comeback. “Wh.. what?! Jay… you’re so, guh, don’t be silly! I’m not that lousy of a flirt!” She flagged the bartender and then scooped some of her hair over her ear, the tips still rosy as she ordered something sweet and fruity and whatever Jay wanted. For all the hassling she gave him for being secretly sweet, she was an easy target herself. “Oh, please. There’s no reason to start throwing arms. Just throw one around me if he walks by.”
He notes the pink hue to her features and deters from prying further. Though her embarrassment tugged at a single fibre of curiosity, a tilt to his head as she stumbles over her words, small talk would never exist at the height of his priorities; it was simply enervating and tedious. Not a sociable man by nature - they branded him, but it was birthed solely from apathy and no ill-intentions. “I struggle to believe you’re anything but,” he brushes his response off with a quick survey of the bar’s contents. “I’ll have a whiskey then, Bashful. As it seems to me like he intends on waiting you out.” Jay was no stranger to how in darkness one would wish there was light. It was human nature to believe even the most devilishly twisted were capable of kindness but he had profiled the pest before him by habit. A divorcee, he presumed. Still, he lifted a single palm, opting for a kittenish wave towards the unrecognisable male in question; fingers wagging feverishly. The stranger dipped his gaze in response. “I guess I’m not his type.”
Send me a musical note for...
♩ - A song that makes me think of my muse.
♪ - A song that is on my muse’s ipod.
♫ - A song for our muses.
♬ - A song that makes me think of our ship.
♭ - A song that reminds my muse of yours.
♮ - A song that shows how my muse feels about yours.
♯ - Your muse’s ringtone in mine’s phone
