concrete walls

[rushveins-blog]

intertwinvd.

watching the way he slumps against the bookshelf, sliding to the ground, sun feels a lump develop in his throat. it’s somehow the most human he’s ever felt in his life, and it’s terrifying. slowly, and carefully, he makes his way over. he’s hyper aware of the fact that even though the divide is no longer angry, there are still boundaries. but he takes a risk, and he sits down next to him. for some reason he feels like that’s the human thing to do. 

the comment about demons strikes him as odd. mainly because they hadn’t even entered his train of thought before then. in sun’s mind there was no correlation, but as soon as he continues speaking he understands. he asks if the angels are mad at him. and sun understands. he understands how easy it is to correlate the divides abilities to evil. that alone is enough to make him want to protect him. to let him know that he’s nowhere close to evil. 

when he goes on to explain – it’s like something in sun breaks. his faith, maybe? was this what the elders intentionally hadn’t told him? that they’d just sat by while one of their followers with a god complex tortured a little boy? and for what reason? because sun was having some serious trouble coming up with one good enough to justify what they’d done. they could have easily stepped in, he knew that. he’d seen it first hand. small miracles, subtle enough that no one would have even noticed. they do it every day, and yet they sat back and watched the divide suffer. for a moment he thinks he might throw up. 

“you are so so far from evil.” he takes a breath, actually looking at the scars that adorn his face. sadness flares up in his chest, making it hard to breathe. “you are so far from evil, the fact that – that you were even allowed to be tortured by that fucking idiot…” sun looks over at him, trying to catch his gaze, “demons exist, but you are far from one.”

so many things are swimming in his mind at once. everything he thought he knew about the angels were brought into question. if they had so willingly turned a blind eye to what was happening – were they really good at all? how did they get to pick and choose so easily who was deserving of salvation and who wasn’t? the only reason he was even okay with his job, what he did, is because he felt like he was doing good for the world. but if angels weren’t good it put his entire line of work into question. there were so many things he wanted to bring up to the elders, so many things he wanted to ask. like how they could just sit by and let innocent people suffer. in a way he felt defeated, and alone. but overall he felt angry and so sad for this boy. 

in that moment he decided that he would do everything in his power to protect the divide, whether the angels approved or not. 

you are so, so far from evil, the angel says to talon. one of heaven’s very angels -- he’s only half, you insolent worm, the eternal nagging goblin echoes from the crook of the darkest, cobwebbed corner of his mind -- confirms that talon isn’t the devil, the anti-christ, or what-have-you. he doesn’t really tell him what he is outside of ‘the divide’ ( whatever the hell that means ) but he’s not one of the big bads and that’s enough. for now. talon won’t ever stop looking for answers because it simply isn’t in his nature, but this bit of information -- no, this validation of a life long paranoid thought that he WAS the evil all the along being verified as false would do more for his psyche than the other could possibly know. he’d thank him for that right now, but there’s something about this encounter that tells him he’ll be able to do so in time. he doesn’t know what, or even know for sure that he’ll see him again... for all he knows, this is just a fever dream, but he feels it in his gut.

breathing out, he turns his head at the mention of that idiot ( it sends a shiver so intense down his spine that he visibly twitches in his movement, despite however slight the turn of one’s head might be ) and meets eyes with him, exactly on cue with his final declaration. demons exist, but you are far from one. 

talon swallows tightly, gaze unblinking as he stares back at him. he thinks among everything, he’ll remember that sentence for the rest of his life. there’s a long couple of moments where he looks back at the man, the angel he corrects himself internally, and not even the grandfather clock bellowing at seven on the dot to signal closing time is enough to shake him back to reality. “ okay, ” he says finally, as plainly and as simply as he’s ever said anything, but this be known if nothing else: he believes the angel and more than that, he trusts his word, or thinks he does in the moment. on one hand, angels are universally understood to be trustworthy creatures by people of faith and there’s no reason for him not to, but on the other hand... if angels could hear all, does that mean they know? did they know what happened to him, if not through his own cries at night then by the mouth of the so called man of god who tried to vanquish a demon that wasn’t there? if they did, then... who was he to give away something as valuable, something as fragile as trust? the only saving grace he can hold onto is that it seems like news to this one particular angel, the one they kept things from. he can’t help but wonder what else he didn’t know. what else they let slide.

in the silence following talon’s statement his eyes had found the tiled floor again and although he didn’t plan on discussing anything further -- while he had more questions than he knew what to do with, he knew he wasn’t ready for the answers, not here, not now, didn’t know if he would ever be -- there is one thing that strikes him: he doesn’t know his name. the angel knows about an incident talon has repeated to nobody, but not his name. maybe he’ll remember me if i give him a name to match the face, he thinks. maybe he’ll tell them about talon, and not the divide. cocking his chin back up to meet his gaze once more, he breaks the silence. “ uh... by the way, my name’s talon. ”

[rushveins-blog]

intertwinvd.

sun notes the way the divide has backed into a bookshelf, and for a moment he thinks he probably should have given a warning. he wasn’t really used to the whole ‘outwardly-being-an-angel’ thing. he made a small mental note that next time – if there was a next time – he’d have to offer a pair of sunglasses first. and then the atmosphere abruptly changes. maybe he was too outright with the whole angel thing. 

this was the first time he’d even had an opportunity to tell someone and he defaulted to his normal demeanor, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best way to let people know that a higher power exists. although the reaction he gets is not one that he’d even considered. shock, maybe, but not pure fear. and then, after that, anger? he wonders if this entire thing was a mistake, if somehow his angel-human body had gotten this totally fucked up. he wonders what could have possibly happened in this young man’s life that led him to be fearful and angry at angels. all sun had ever known is that angels were the good in the world, creating miracles and saving souls. they were the divine interference that combated evil every day.

so why was this man so angry? sun was trying to take it all in, the implications of his words, the question he’d just been asked. the raising of his voice. it’s not like he knew him that well, but the act of yelling seemed extremely uncharacteristic. it didn’t fit his earlier demeanor at all, it specifically changed when he mentioned the whole ‘angel’ thing. why hadn’t someone told the divide who he was? what he was capable of and why? in all honesty it was making his head hurt, and planting a dangerous seed of doubt in his mind. 

“i’m only half angel.” his voice is slow, calm. trying his best at somewhat soothing. the anger doesn’t scare him, but it’s not a feeling or emotion he wants to continue any longer. the last thing he wants is for the divide to be angry at him specifically. “other half human. there’s a lot of shit i don’t know, and a lot of things they don’t tell me.” probably because i do things like this, he keeps that thought to himself. there’s a pause, and sun is trying to choose his words very carefully, because he has a feeling the answer he has to give is not going to be very helpful or reassuring at all. 

he can relate to the want or need to know where you come from. he’s had so many years of searching for himself, for his roots, for a reason as to why someone made him exist. sun knows that ‘shit just happens’ is the last thing anyone wants to hear. especially someone like the divide, who has apparently gone his whole life with no idea. 

“they told me – they called you the divide. you can see into other planes of existence, your soul divided between purgatory and our own.” he swallows, roughly, sweating this next part. “they said that sometimes, people like you, just exist. the circumstances can be different, it could be because it was your fate or because of complications at birth, but sometimes it just happens. sometimes you just exist.” sun chews on the inside of his cheek, wanting to ask so many questions and wanting to denounce his angel half all in the same breath. he doesn’t know exactly what happened, or why, but obviously angels and heaven and god had done something so horrific to this boy. 

clinging to every word that leaves the angel’s mouth, talon listens like he has never listened before -- and let it be known that most of the time, all he does is listen. only half-angel. half human, too. he doesn’t have time to properly deliberate what this bit of information meant beyond the confirmation that angels do in fact interact heavily with humans and human life if breeding is happening, because when the angel admits he knows little he finds himself on a whole new train of thought: what aren’t the other angels telling him? could it be his worst fear, is he a demon after all? the breath is taken from him yet again as he awaits the answer he’s been anticipating his entire life and he feels as though he’s at the top of the rollercoaster, about to plummet. about to sink. 

and he does sink, but in a physical sense. talon lowers himself until he is sitting on the ground, back against the case and knees drawn close, forearms rested on his kneecaps. his gaze gets lost and he loses the expression he had gained as quickly as it appeared, his facial features instead reflecting no particular emotion, eyes staring at nothing in particular. so to speak, he’s back in his own skin -- that reaction, that anger, it felt foreign as it reigned within him and as it left, an emptiness lingered in it’s place -- but he is still faced with unfamiliar emotions. as the angel finishes his explanation, he begins to think he would be feeling a whole lot more of those types -- a whole lot more uncertainty than he’d thought ever possible. to his right, west watches with sad eyes and for once, the specter who always has something to say, whether productive to the conversation or simply commentary for the sake of commentary... he says nothing. talon looks at the angel, and he’s simply in disbelief. 

“ ... are you shittin’ me? ” he asks, voice no longer angry or even accusatory; genuinely, talon is asking is he kidding? but an answer isn’t needed, and that realization is visible in his eyes. he’s not kidding. talon just exists -- that’s what they said. he keeps in mind that there’s more the angel doesn’t know and therefore more ‘they’ wouldn’t tell him, and all it does is raise more questions. what are the circumstances of his birth, specifically? is it just fate? was he fated to live this way? was he -- bad? did ‘they’ approve? have they been watching all this time? none of these questions seem worthy of vocalization until one horrifying one stands out in the bunch, and he answers it the moment it comes up. he says it as he might a statement, because it is one. “ demons are real. ” of course they are. of C O U R S E demons are real, because he’s looked one right in the eyes and because there was NO OTHER EXPLANATION for the consistent, everlasting darkness that has loomed over him since the moment he was born! there was a hell, after all! there was reason for the things that happened to him outside of humanity’s inability to understand what was different from them. 

fickle fingers pad against the scar on his cheek that ended at his jaw and he remembers flashes of then -- for a second he thinks he’s there again, but the aforementioned warmth the angel radiated kept him grounded -- and he starts really looking at the angel, rather than looking through him. “ the divide... if i just exist, then... the angels, heaven, they’re not, they’re not really mad at me after all? i mean --” talon holds his cheek, eyes darting away and widening once more in horror as he hears the pastors cries to god to banish the evil within him as clearly as the first time he heard them. “ i’ve seen demons, you know. there’s one that i see a lot, but i didn’t think it was the biblical kind... but the -- the pastor, he thought i was, because of my powers. he performed an exorcism, almost killed me. he was a man of God, and i didn’t think such a thing existed, so, i thought he was wrong... but it does, so, was he right? am i a demon? is this -- divide, evil? ” 

[rushveins-blog]

intertwinvd.

he was only slightly sorry about how rude he sounded. it wasn’t like him to be so forward and to the point, but he quite literally felt like he’d been turned inside out. every alarm in his body was going off at once. it’s a feeling that’s hard to describe, but to paraphrase – it fucking sucks. he didn’t have much more time to think about the manners involved because there was quite literally less than an inch between the two of them. if he’d had any doubts before about whether or not this weird dude was human, the guy stepping up to sniff him put all inhibitions at bay. although, for all intents and purposes he looked pretty human. sun has hard to learn the hard way that someone of the most dangerous things do. 

when he finally steps back, sun feels a tiny bit of relief. like for a second he thought he was about to have to go full angel and start a fight in this book store. what he does next isn’t any much better. the guy just shrugs – shrugs – and then in the most monotone (or rather, calm) voice he’s ever heard, turns it back on sun. which, honestly, he probably should have expected. “hold on, just need a second.”  a finger comes up like he’s some business man telling the barista to wait while he takes a call. and then he’s, in the most dramatic way possible, trying to get in touch with the elders. there’s honestly a pretty bad system. because of his human half he doesn’t have the ability to just hop up there, he has to be summoned. which means that any time he needs to get in touch he has to put in a “call” so to speak, and just pray to god (literally) that someone answers. 

from the outside, it just looks like sun is glowing. there’s an iridescent light surrounding him, making him look the most like an angel he ever has. it’s not even a soft glow, it’s actually quite bright. to most humans they’d need to squint just to be able to keep their eyes on him. and then, in the least dramatic way, he just starts talking to the sky. “o holy ones, is there an elder there?” (the first half is sarcastic, which the angels do not appreciate) “yes, hi. what the hell is going on?” in not so many words they basically explain that sometimes shit just happens. sometimes people just exist, whether it be because there was a complication at birth, or because it’s just simply their destiny. they just exist every once and awhile. before leaving they remind sun not to get involved, to focus on his charges and to leave the divide alone which sun very pointedly ignores. coming down from that is a little tricky, it takes a lot of energy out of him, so for a minute he’s just kind of standing there slumped over and out of breath. 

then, as if nothing happened at all, he stands up and directs his attention back to what he now knows as the Divide, “i’m an angel, couldn’t you tell?” 

talon doesn’t take his eyes off of the stranger in front of him for even a second; even if he isn’t at the moment concerned for his own welfare, he’s been around far too long and been unprepared far too many times in the past to underestimate the supernatural, from of whatever variation they may be. this time is no different. a single finger is held up to him as their interaction is put on hold, literally, and his eyebrows furrow in passive curiosity as he expects to see the other pull out a phone but what happens next isn’t just unbelievable -- it is absolutely inconceivable. 

brilliant light fills the air between them with rays so strong that the sun itself paled in comparison, and the wind is taken from talon’s very lungs. he stumbles backwards and his arms bend in front of his eyes to take shield, head as light as if he’d stood up too quickly and eyeballs aching ( you see, talon’s shop is kept at a particularly low light -- he prefers it this way, as he does all of the areas he frequents ) from the sudden exposure. talon doesn’t stop backing up until he hits a bookcase that damn near falls over when he almost falls backwards, but he manages to find his footing just in time and steady it with both of his hands. with his head dipped and his eyes closed he grips the wood, fingernails digging into loose chips and breath steadily catching itself... that is, until he looks up and forces himself to squint through the brightness and look at an ethereal force that he can only describe as... angelic. no, it couldn’t be that. he is something, something wicked, and talon’s convinced of that much. 

while his company ceases his glow and composes himself, not so much as a muscle twitches and he is completely silent; all of his energy -- every last bit -- is powered into sorting possible lore that could tell tale of a creature such as he. his eyes no longer squint but rather set his expression into fixed concentration, intense focus, and just a touch of intrigue. show yourself, your real self, he thinks. and then talon gets the answer he so eagerly beckons for.

immediately, he wishes he hadn’t gotten an answer and instead been called out on his own flipping of the question. immediately, he wishes with all his might that he’d not even asked the damned question. he even goes as far as to wish he didn’t come into work today and just left the shop closed ‘for maintenance’, he wishes for any set of circumstances that wouldn’t have led him here: here, that is standing face to face with the one creature he had been certain didn’t exist. a creature directly linked to the heaven he hadn’t had reason to believe in, and a creature that proved the existence of the system of heaven vs. hell that he has feared more than anything for the entire duration of his life. the system that his faith depended on believing did not exist. 

despite not being one to wear his emotions ( namely, fear ) in even the most dire of circumstances, the true face of horror fills his expression for a solid one, two, three, four seconds before his stare resumes -- this time greater in intensity and harboring subtle but nonetheless apparent hints of what he must be feeling underneath his shell of stone. his furrowed brow highlights the disbelief in what he’s hearing, stubborn even as his own initial thoughts of the glow are proven to him. his unblinking eyes showcase his fury, his anger that such beings exist and must have heard his cries, and done nothing! the only angel he’s ever believed, counted on, wasn’t an angel but a brother, a lost spirit dedicated to him for reasons he doesn’t know. and finally, the fear that summons his tears -- droplets form at his waterline and he is struck all at once with the realization that heaven is real... and by extension, so is hell. 

from his right calls a cry of his name and a rush of cold comes from that direction before settling right in next to him, and unless the so called angel could see spirits, this bit of information would not be privy to him. talon doesn’t look at west, he doesn’t give any indication that he’s being talked to by anyone, but let it be known that west’s soothing words are what drive talon to stand straight and to find the strength to speak. an invisible hand steadies him by the shoulder. “ if that’s true... if Heaven’s angels exist, then why don’t you know that? why don’t you know what i am? why didn’t any of you -- why didn’t any... ” his question, why didn’t anyone help me, gets lost in a hitch of breath that he takes to calm himself. head shaking, he struggles not to sob outright -- talon swallows tightly, his gaze growing angrier with the second. he can’t remember the last time he reacted to anything like this, and he isn’t positive he has ever. “ nevermind that. what did they tell you? what the fuck am i? human? not? just real fuckin’ unlucky? ”

although raising his voice in any other condition would have startled him, it was of no concern to him in the heat of the moment. as near as he can figure, he’s already doomed to eternal damnation -- an exorcism was once performed on him! -- and abandoning his timid, forgiving, and passive nature in one of the many eyes of the Lord would most certainly not be what sealed his fate. no, nothing he did would be. his fate was sealed the second his soul formed and he’s always believed that to some degree, but now, he knows it.

[rushveins-blog]

intertwinvd.

@rushveins​

it’s been a pretty good day so far. he successfully stopped a charge from running blindly into traffic, he got to eat some really good ice cream, and now he was enjoying a nice stroll. as far as days went, getting to be completely smug about your guardian angel capability and also eating ice cream was about as good as it got. that is until he literally can feel every alarm in his body going off. it takes a second to determine it’s not one of his charges, and a bit of relief settles in his chest. now all he had to figure out was who the fuck it actually was. 

he let his feet, and spidey sense, direct him to the source. finally, he stopped in front of what looked like a small bookstore. for a second he wondered if the books were in great peril but the sight of a young man through the window almost knocked the breath out of him. whatever he was, it wasn’t entirely human. sun had no fuckin’ clue what he was but he knew that he was in the greatest danger he’d ever felt. literally. walking inside felt like he was being pulled like a magnet, everything in him was telling him to protect. 

“what the fuck are you?”

for someone who was everything but, talon’s day was turning out to be remarkably average. not a single thing aligned on the side of unusual, outside of the fact that the lack of abnormalities actually created one for someone so used to the chaos. gaze locked on the title that his finger pressed the bind of to secure it’s place, he finds himself lost in a train of thought -- even in that, all he has on his mind is what he has left to do today before closing time. with a quick glance to the grandfather clock he confirms that he’s got just a little more than fifteen minutes before his working day ends... and nothing to do, actually. oh well. it’s not like that’s something to complain about or anything, but it does leave someone like talon -- someone who always has to deal with something, be it a ghoul or a customer ( or god forbid, both. ghouls are lousy customers. ) -- on the restless side of things. what was there to do with himself? 

as if on cue, what he considers normalcy is brought back into play when something -- he doesn’t know what the fuck it is, but the pleasant warmth that fills every fiber of his being is nothing of the likes he’s ever felt, not naturally, so either a presence or a witchery must be afoot -- enters the shop, inquiring exactly what talon was. a regular old crossroads, it seemed. regular for talon. without a word, his feet draw nearer to the other until he’s only a few inches away from his face, startlingly casual for a man in his position, and he leans yet even closer to get a long look at his face. he then tilts his head to look at the side of them, as far back as he could, and he even made note of the others scent ( yes, he was that near ) before making a more socially acceptable amount of distance between them again. 

how weird, he thinks. it’s just a dude. then again... so am i. his expression, which is usually none, shifts into subtle inquisition with the cock of his eyebrow as he meets the other’s gaze and his long awaited response comes to fruition: a shrug. that’s right. talon shrugs his goddamn shoulders at the question of what he is -- because he doesn’t know that. how is he supposed to fuckin’ know that? he’s been asking anyone who would listen ( and anyone who wouldn’t, mind you ) that question for as long as he can remember. either no one could hear him or no one wanted to, and whichever it was, it didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of the universe anyway. “ i ‘unno. i’ll let you know if i find out, i guess. the fuck are you? ” as blunt and to-the-point as his word choice is, the tone he delivers in them in is simply calm. 

[gs-archive-blog]

softheartedsuggestion:

you are more than what happened to you

[rushveins-blog]

sprxinedankle.

— For a brief moment, Junsung feels relief flood through him. And then just on instinct he subconsciously sizes Talon up. He’d gotten in too many fights not to. The other is tall, probably has at least an inch on him but he carries himself like he’s trying to hide. A small part of him expected something else, someone else. He doesn’t know why exactly, maybe it was just the stereotype he had in his head but he wasn’t expecting the level of normalcy this guy held. He was kind of just relieved that Talon didn’t take one look at him and run the other way. 

     “I, uh,” Almost as soon as he started speaking he stopped, brought up short. There really wasn’t a good way to explain exactly what had happened, what he needed or wanted. He hardly understood any of it himself. “I need some help. With, I guess, ghosts.” Weird pauses in his sentence made it sound even worse than it was, and he couldn’t help but let out one loud single laugh. God, he sounded crazy. Maybe he was. “There’s this, ritual, I think.” June scrubbed at his face with his hands, trying to get himself somewhat together. “Fuck. I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s just this ritual, and I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t have any of the shit I’m supposed to have.” Listening back to himself he sounded like a broken record, like some weird guy he’d never met before. He just missed his parents, god he fucking missed his parents. For some reason he felt like this could work. Felt like Talon could work. Is what weird? Maybe. Probably. But there was something about the other guy that he couldn’t quite place, like it felt right. 

     “I just need help.”

junsung needn’t say much for talon to figure out he’s found himself here though the grapevine ---- his side business is what he’s best known for, regarding his dealings with all things supernatural ---- and his immediate response is to nod to the opening statement, signaling the other to go on. however, as he does, eyebrows furrow and eyes widen ; his expression is flat overall as it always is, but now there’s a tint of intensity. a ritual ? 

he’s got to be kidding. except he isn’t, there’s nothing even remotely suggestive of that before him and concern takes over where caution had reigned, even if his overall demeanor doesn’t shift much. simultaneously, the specter to the right ( invisible to their guest, fortunately ) is absolutely howling with laughter ---- ‘ oh shit! one of these guys again! do you think he’s an occultist? ’ he hears west exclaim, chuckling himself to the point he comes short of breath... not that it matters. the noise does attribute to the pound in talon’s head, though, and he envies the man before him for no reason other than him not having to hear what he did in that moment. but he gets the feeling, by the look of him, there’s not much to envy when it comes to peace of mind. he must be desperate.

anyone who comes to him is. 

eyes flickering towards west in a warning glance, he jerks his head to the right in what will look to the other as a twitch when really he’s signaling his long time companion to get out, which he does, reluctantly. once west vacates, talon looks back to the other and shakes his head.

“ i’ll probably be able to help you with any and everything spirit related, but... i don’t fuck around with that shit, and neither should you. no rituals. i don’t know what you read, but it’s probably bullshit. what is it you need done? investigation? communication? ” 

[rushveins-blog]

sprxinedankle.

— @rushveins​

— Junsung looked rough. It’s something he wouldn’t normally admit, but right now it was such a glaringly obvious truth. He hadn’t slept since god knows when, a constant headache p u l s i n g behind his eyes from all the staring he’d been doing at various LED screens. The origin of his fixation is a little hazy, but if he thinks about it he can probably pinpoint it to staying up late and watching Ghosthunters. Which, I know, sounds a little ridiculous but that’s just where it started. A simple idea that manifested into something a lot more. A few days after that he was about 3 websites deep in the idea of ghost hunting, just summoning spirits in general, really. He’d read around a bit, and eventually found this ritual. It was said to be able to summon the spirits of a dead loved one, allowing you to see them and speak with them. It called for a lot of things he didn’t have though, things he wouldn’t even know about getting. Which is when the name Talon Amari got thrown around. Apparently his friend of a friend of a friend had a problem with pesky spirits that wouldn’t leave her alone, and Talon was the guy who helped her. His friend said if anyone would be able to help him, it would be him. Although of course they didn’t give him a number or an address or anything, really. Normally he wouldn’t even act on something like this, a weird guy who supposedly gets rid of ghosts? But truthfully he was desperate.      June had gotten this wild idea and then it was like it wouldn’t leave him alone, like all these years his parents had been wandering alone as spirits and he’d never known. The idea was gnawing at him, eating him up inside and preventing him from getting a good nights sleep (not like he was sleeping very well before, either). Talon Amari felt like a shot in the dark but at this point he didn’t care. After a very hasty google search he found the location for a book store with an owner by the same name. Which is where he was standing now, just outside looking in. Dark circles adorned his eyes and he was sure he’d lost at least 10lbs, but none of that seemed to matter. What matters is that he’s going to get answers. Stepping inside, he doesn’t really see anyone. From what he could tell it was a pretty small business, there wasn’t exactly a multitude of employees standing around. “Uh-” He hadn’t spoken in so long his voice sounded a little funny, so he cleared his throat and tired again, “Is anyone here? I’m looking for Talon…” 

the decision to step outside of the shadows should be a simple one ---- it’s talon they want, is it not? ---- and yet his feet remain rooted, his head cocking to the right to listen. first, he considers whether or not he owes anyone any debt ( these days, he could think of several people who might come looking ) and his first instinct is dart out the back of the shop on that concept alone. 

west warned him to lock the doors at the sight of the somewhat unhinged seeming male but talon disregarded it for the simple reason that his friend had a tendency to exaggerate ---- especially when it came to ‘ threats. ’ once, he claimed a witch was coming when really it was a hipster interested in spooky and spiritual souvenirs from her trip to this side of the city ; ever since then, talon’s taken his warnings a little less seriously. cautiously he presses his finger against the binding of a book until it fits into place and he looks towards the direction of the front door and he just knows. there’s something important over there ---- whether it’s good or bad doesn’t matter but rather the significance of it ---- and his feet are moving before he even knows it. 

light hits him in a funny way as his shoes tap near soundlessly against the carpet ; it’s almost omnious, the way he appears from within the shadows only to be slowly uncovered. talon locks his gaze on the other, hands pocketed and eyes unblinking ---- shoulders drawn inwards, he tenses his stance. physical largeness doesn’t do much when held against a subconscious need to shrink himself in apprehension at the face of the unknown. 

today, the man in front of him is the unknown.

“ you found him. ” 

[angelsxx03]

[rushveins-blog]

farawcys.

he doesn’t know, is the thing. and it isn’t that chandler is exactly a know-it-all — only to those that deserve to be taken down a peg or two, he thinks — but there’s a sour taste in his mouth that comes simply from the notion of not being able to place a finger on the exact tether he feels to this store, and to the one behind the counter. the upward quirks at the edges of the other’s mouth are enough to ease the ache as soon as chandler’s stare falls back on him, and although he’s still unsure as to why that is the case, as well, just the presence of him is comforting in its own right, and chandler is content with his decision to come. the room has been silent for a few moments now ; chandler being so lost in deep thought that he’s forgotten to even answer the male. “ i’m not sure, ” he tells him, honestly. his voice is still quiet, but seeing as they’re alone in the store, it manages to fill the space. “ but it feels right to be here. ”

he can’t blame him. for not knowing, that is. wishes he did, but talon can’t blame him because it’s not like he knows either. even so, it isn’t as though he can’t accept not knowing --- his entire life has been a whole series of unknowns, has it not? just like he doesn’t know why he agrees that the day wouldn’t feel complete without chandler’s visit, talon doesn’t know why he stands from his seat and ventures outside of the counter for the first time during a visit from chandler, and he doesn’t know why he stands next to him, either. he can’t help but notice how much smaller the other looks up close ; or maybe he’s just much bigger? whatever. “ ...ok, ” he says finally, shoulders shrugging as he looks down at him. “ got your eye on anything, then? we have a new shipment in. it’s that way though. ” he points with his eyes towards the back.

[rushveins-blog]

farawcys.

it’s in the winter time when chandler feels most grateful for his abilities as a non-human —— when chilled breezes burn through the holes in fabric, hitting his skin like icy daggers. though despite his heightened body temperature, there’s still a rush of relief that runs through him as he enters the comforting warmth of the store ( and as he sees a familiar face behind the counter ). 

a pang of guilt hits his heart as he hears the storeowner’s words ; chandler knows firsthand how positively irritating it is for customers to arrive at the pub a quarter of an hour before closing. nonetheless, he’s rendered unable to leave and instead, offers him a look of repentance. “ oh, ” he breathes ; it’s soft. “ i’ll hurry, i don’t mean to keep you here. ” a pause as his gaze moves from the man to the shelves of books before him, his eyes fall absently on a few titles and there’s no reason for him to speak any further, but for an unknown reason, he feels compelled to. “ i was caught up with work for a while, but … it felt odd not to come in today. ”

talon’s instinctual response is a simple nod of the head ; a physical way of showing that okay, he understands. he hopes that the secondary message of gratitude translates, too --- even if that is a little bit of a stretch. only so much can be relayed through body language alone. this feels especially true when he finds himself struggling to come out with words when all that naturally occurs is the corner of his mouth upturning. a few beats pass before his tongue and mind catch up to reality and his voice comes out in something of a scratch. “ --- oh... uh, really? do you -- know why that... is? ” although the main tone in his voice is confusion, he’ll admit --- it’s intrigue that fills him now, without a doubt. maybe the other has a word for this. he hopes so.

[rushveins-blog]

@farawcys​

him again.

heavy lids peel open, beckoned by the rush of cool air that talon’s most recently acquired regular brings with him into the store ; bringing his lower lip under with his teeth, he tilts his head up enough to meet gazes with him. there’s a brief second where his gaze darts to the clock before settling back into a sea of blue and talon duly notes that it’s actually ten after closing... he should tell him to return during business hours, but guilt swallows that sentence in the form of a physical shiver when he remembers the breeze that had just hit him moments prior. he supposes there’s no reason he can’t stay a little while ---- just enough to buy something. 

“ we’re closing soon... but take your time. not in a rush to get out there myself, anyways. ” 

[rushveins-blog]

tyguns.

@rushveins​

The only sound in the home came from the television, Noah was placed across from it, slumped into the sofa. The quiet was a change to what he’d grown to, but welcomed changed. He allowed himself to take it in, watching Noah gaze into the screen, occasionally shifting. He smiled, Noah blended so well into the family, it wouldn’t be the same without him now. Dandy found himself again, awoken by a thought. 

“ Let’s eat. “ He announced, turning into the kitchen, “ Watcha’ feeling for?” He talked over at Noah, still seated in front of the tv.” And none of that instant stuff, I actually have the time to whip you up something decent.”

stability isn’t something that someone like noah can take for granted -- even so, his peace can’t exist without the underlying anticipation that it’ll all turn for the worse... not that it sours the moment, though. gaze fluttering to meet dandy’s, there’s a brief moment of hesitation as he props his arms up on the back of the couch, twists his body so he’s on his knees on the couch cushion so he faces him properly, and rests his chin on the knitted material of the sweater he’s wearing. absently, he finds himself biting at the sleeve as he thinks, his shoulders shrugging. “ don’t know. got spaghetti makin’s? or... hot dogs? we could grill. not too cold out tonight or nothin’... what do you think? somethin’ i can drink beer with. ”

[rushveins-blog]

imessage 💛

rich: you bet your feathered ass, bird boy.

rich: when do i get to see ur uglie mug :O

AJ: right now as far as im concerned lol

AJ: how was the trip in? achilles doin ok?

[rushveins-blog]

tyguns.

@rushveins​

The garden at his cousin’s Baxter’s house, had been one of his favorite places in the years he spent growing from child to teen, and now and again, he still found himself escaping there, reliving on nostalgia,  indulging with his own form of a baby blanket, that he just couldn’t get rid of.  

Recent years, visits have been almost nonexistent. He couldn’t recall the last time he took time to visit, truly, he felt he hadn’t needed that comfort in a long time. 

Noah had taken up much of his attention, having him by his side was comfort he never thought possible. He had kids to tend to, and a lovesick flu that was only getting worse. He had forgotten the garden, and it’s memories. 

The both of them were sitting on the bench, he still remembers painting. He hand his hands clasped in his lap, he was leaning forward, sitting on the bare of edge of the wood. 

Night was falling, and the cold air was nipping at the tip of his nose, and the exposed skin on his hands. He ignored the sensation, his attention was stuck to the garden, it looked dull and depressing in this cold. 

His comfort place, seemed to just do the opposite of it’s job. 

All he could see was his mother, picking off the best tomatoes for herself, her award for helping Baxter’s wife tend months before. 

He could hear her voice, “ Darlin’, come let mama show you how to pick these.” 

The tomottoes posts were bare and lifeless. Baxter’s wife suffered from a stroke, and Dandy had just realized, the family could no longer tend to the garden.

He didn’t want to think about that anymore.

Dandy laid back into the bench, slouching down into the cold wood, sighing as he did. He could feel Noah’s eyes attached to him. It made it all a little less awful, he could tell Noah was in his own way, really there for Dandy than anyone else today. 

Too many people spewed words that had no meaning, rehearsed. Too many distant family relatives exploding in despair,  like they knew his mother at all. Like any of them ever thought about us until she died. 

“  This island never quits, you know, Noah?”

 His expression is dead, but he attempts to lift his tone, still, it sounds forced. 

“ Richie showed up. “ He slides down deeper into the bench. 

“ Just showed up at the house, no word, no call.” He is reluctant to go too much into Richie in general, but it had shaken him wrong, hurt him in a way he can’t describe properly. He tried not to think about Richie and Noah, tried to not let that be a deal in the back of his head. 

Good can’t stay long, but whatever happens, Dandy is just happy to spend some of it with Noah.

They had worked so hard to mend after he bailed, all of the group. He had to hold back from throwing a kick at the birdfeeder, thinking about Richie destroying how far Noah had come. 

He wouldn’t let Richard get away with that. 

he does know. the island -- their home -- had a way about it ; peace existed in short intervals between what seemed like endless chaos, a vicious cycle doomed to repeat itself from red robin’s founding to the end of time as they knew it. the thought triggers a grimace upon noah’s features as he remembers the events from only days prior that sparked a deep, deep unsettling feeling he hadn’t felt in over a decade ---- somehow, he can’t help but feel like the last fifteen years were all one big cycle and that things were about to get a lot worse... he just couldn’t pinpoint how, and truthfully, he didn’t want to. 

it’s been a sad day, and that’s severely underselling it. noah feels as though he’s lost a member of his family, and in a way, he has. dandy’s family looked after him in ways that his own could not and at some point, he began feeling more at home than in his own residence --- and that’s what the kennedy estate became. a residence. dandy’s place was home. dandy’s mother was home. dandy was home. 

it sometimes shakes him to think of how long it took him to realize that.

a cautious hand raises and he rests it upon the other’s shoulder, an awkward attempt at comfort, but an attempt nonetheless. a couple of moments of silence pass between them and his grimace sets in deeper ( as if it were possible ) as he stares off into the darkening horizon when he’s mentioned, but he says nothing. instead, that same hand slides across his back until he’s holding onto him from the side, head rested against his shoulder. noah presses a cold kiss to where his lips met his skin, and he closes his eyes.  “ i know... he came by my place a couple of days ago. i punched him in the face,” noah sighs out. eyes remaining closed, his hand rubs up and down dandy’s arm as he keeps him close. “ i’m glad he came for the funeral, but... we’ve healed too much to let him back in just for him to leave again. fuck him, alright? don’t let him get to you. he’s gonna fly off again in a couple of days and maybe drop in again in 15 years. ”

[rushveins-blog]

imessage 💛

AJ: Dude!!! Are you really back in town???

[rushveins-blog]

rushveins.

watching him fall feels satisfying – just for the moment, but a moment is long enough to pacify the swelling rage within him and allow for some processing of this… situation that has so abruptly fallen on his lap. his satisfaction is short lived as his attention splits from the man in front of him on the ground to a – fifteen? maybe fourteen – year old girl approaching the pair and instinctively his stance becomes less dominating, less aggressive. children shouldn’t be around exchanges like this and concern riddles his features, but that, too, is short lived and replaced with disbelief once again. 

dad? 

noah is absolutely frozen in place as he watches the two of them interact, eyes wide and lips parted but he says nothing; frankly, even if he could speak past the ever-growing lump in his throat, he isn’t sure that he wants to say anything more to him. he tries with all his might not to focus on the fact that richie not only moved on without him, but moved on, presumably got married, and had a child. it all seems like too much to have occurred within the span of fifteen years, but… he supposes things are far from the same on his end of things, too. 

still. 

expression hardening, he elects to listen to the answer to his question only because he might as well take something from this – even if he doesn’t expect anything of substance to be said, and with every word that passes richie’s mouth, he finds himself trembling a little more vigorously. a little more furiously. he has half a mind to hit him again, but the one was enough ; killer as his swing may be, he doesn’t have the body he used to, nor the stamina.

he supposes words will have to do – an unfamiliar concept for a pair of men who often settled their dues with fists as adolescents, but one that was overdue in learning. with more of his life together than it ever has been, and more control of his emotions than he ever thought possible, now is as good a time as ever. 

“ i would have rather you stayed the fuck away from me if you were just going to see me ‘one last time.’ where was that when you left without a word to me? you’re damn –” his voice cracks here and heightens in pitch, his head shaking as he looks away and leans on the door frame to support himself. “ you’re goddamn right you did. and now you’re gonna be able to walk away from this with some… falsified sense of closure and that – that ain’t fair. ” 

Each movement of Noah’s mouth, each sound it released, tangling together with one another, was a stake thrusted into his chest, the more he spoke, it tore an inch deeper in his flesh, he swore he felt his chest grow more hallow along with it. He felt the deeper it pierced,  emptiness ripped between ribs and tissue. 

It was worse than just some insults thrown at you, even ones that touched on sensitive places. It wasn’t someone you love hurting you with their tongue. No, it is an ache incomparable. Nothing hits harder than hearing the truth of what you’ve done, witnessing the aftermath of your betrayal and neglect. Noah had always been on the back of his mind, and his regret haunted him since day one, but to see the truth of it all in the flesh, there’s no way of preparing for it.  

Coming to terms with emotional events that change you is never easy, it’s taking in that you’re to blame, and thats what you gotta live with. 

There was no point to this, it had brought pain and pain only. He had only proven how he always found a way to fuck over Noah. Richie was starting to see himself as another person on the list of those who had used and thrown around Noah. 

Quieten was right,, the two of us only brought bad things about. It had just taken him longer to see, it was in his hands. Richie’s hands touch love and it only rotted between his palms 

This was a mistake, another one he couldn’t take back, just had to watch unfold.

Noah’s reaction, the look on his face, even the movements of his body, taking in the words he spit at him, it was just another ‘ God, I really should of listened to Dandy’ moment, that would of usually brought a bit of spite inside, but it only dug this deeper. 

“ I, “ Now standing, eyes far from Noah’s. “I ain’t gonna piss some excuses, or bubble like a some fuckin’ baby. I’m still just digging shit deeper, I.” 

He slowly backs up, he searches for the right words, it apparent on his body language, he showed his anxious feelings in his own way, getting his run away prepared, his body twitchy and his stance awkward. 

“ I’m fucking sorry, for everything. I can’t take what I did away, and I know an apology don’t mean shit. I just can’t keep it to myself, I reckon. You always said I never knew when to shut my mouth “ He chuckles, again, disgusted at himself.

 “I won’t ever bother you again.” He steps back even farther, pausing before his next sentence. 

“ You look well, by the way. Don’t gotta believe me, but it was nice seeing ya.”

He locks eyes with him, waiting for a moment, before he makes his way back to the truck, and once more,  leaving Noah behind. 

[rushveins-blog]

tyguns.

@rushveins​

Fist cracks against his jaw, the blow sent his brain to static, sense slowly fell back into place, now finding himself on the floor. Through distorted vision, he could make out Noah hovering over him, if his vision could clear, the expression across his face would surely be one not easily forgotten. 

“Dad!” Screamed out behind him, muffled under the ringing. Richie managed to prop his arms behind him, supporting himself as the world cleared, now able to spit the blood that pooled inside his mouth. Footsteps behind him got closer, still distant. 

“Dad!” The girl’s yell now clear, he tilled his head, trying his best attempt at facing her.”

“ Get back in the car. “ A demand, stern enough to get the message across, but a touch soft, as caring as an order can be. 

“ But-”

“Car. Now.” His gaze then fell to Noah once more, ignoring the girl’s spiteful  mumbles as she obeyed. 

“ Your swing sure as hell improved, Kennedy. “ His hand rubbed the throbbing flesh on his chin, a sliver of a smile peaking from his lips, only for a moment. 

why, he pondered in silence for a brief moment, what word’s could ever wind together, and bring any kind of relief to the one he left behind? Richie had known far too much about loved ones off and gone, like ghost. There’s no forgetting, and in all these years, Richie was still learning to forgive. 

There wasn’t a single centimeter on Richard that believed this was a decision that was to be fruitful . He wasn’t that daft. There was a chance that the two could of never noticed eachother in this visit, Richie had no intentions of staying long, digging back into past that was better forgotten. Yet, when it came to Noah, Richie hadn’t been the brightest. Maybe he needed closure, tying the last end of that island that haunted him, the one thing he couldn’t move past.  

Maybe he just wanted to give Noah the chance to say the things he needed to him, something in him yearning to pay the price, and go head in, with hopes the words exchanged would hurt him like he knew he deserved. 

Or maybe he just wanted to see Noah. Even more a moment. 

Whatever it was, he hadn’t dared the idea of mending cross his mind, the slimiest hope was an insult to Noah, and in all it’s nature, self destructive. 

“I gotta be honest with you here, I really ain’t got a clue. My best judgment told me to let ya’ be, but. “ He couldn’t keep his eyes locked with Noah’s, it was hard to not crumble completely having to witness the fury amongst pale blue, dulled with pain. He had always dreaded being the one that met that look in Noah’s gaze, like it had killed the sparkle in them. Noah could cut, bruise and break Richie as much as he could, but it would not amount to the pain that gaze made him feel.  “ I couldn’t keep myself away. I had to see ya, just one last time. “ He had gotten himself in a sitting position, wiping blood off with his sleeve. “I don’t mean to bring you no more pain than I ought to of already. But I guess I did just that, huh?” The smile curling at his mouth was not in happiness, or humor. It was shame, guilt. He had realized just how pathetic this had been. 

watching him fall feels satisfying -- just for the moment, but a moment is long enough to pacify the swelling rage within him and allow for some processing of this... situation that has so abruptly fallen on his lap. his satisfaction is short lived as his attention splits from the man in front of him on the ground to a -- fifteen? maybe fourteen -- year old girl approaching the pair and instinctively his stance becomes less dominating, less aggressive. children shouldn’t be around exchanges like this and concern riddles his features, but that, too, is short lived and replaced with disbelief once again. 

dad? 

noah is absolutely frozen in place as he watches the two of them interact, eyes wide and lips parted but he says nothing; frankly, even if he could speak past the ever-growing lump in his throat, he isn’t sure that he wants to say anything more to him. he tries with all his might not to focus on the fact that richie not only moved on without him, but moved on, presumably got married, and had a child. it all seems like too much to have occurred within the span of fifteen years, but... he supposes things are far from the same on his end of things, too. 

still. 

expression hardening, he elects to listen to the answer to his question only because he might as well take something from this -- even if he doesn’t expect anything of substance to be said, and with every word that passes richie’s mouth, he finds himself trembling a little more vigorously. a little more furiously. he has half a mind to hit him again, but the one was enough ; killer as his swing may be, he doesn’t have the body he used to, nor the stamina.

he supposes words will have to do -- an unfamiliar concept for a pair of men who often settled their dues with fists as adolescents, but one that was overdue in learning. with more of his life together than it ever has been, and more control of his emotions than he ever thought possible, now is as good a time as ever. 

“ i would have rather you stayed the fuck away from me if you were just going to see me ‘one last time.’ where was that when you left without a word to me? you’re damn --” his voice cracks here and heightens in pitch, his head shaking as he looks away and leans on the door frame to support himself. “ you’re goddamn right you did. and now you’re gonna be able to walk away from this with some... falsified sense of closure and that -- that ain’t fair. ”