untitled.txt

learn to roll with the punches even if you don't want to because shit happens. ryan rafters | 21

[ryanrafters-blog]

doctorthompsonx:

Clarke mentally slapped herself as she watched his reaction. What was she thinking just randomly drawing strangers. Of course he would think it was creepy. “Oh no…it’s fine…I was almost done anyway, just some shadows here and there. Go to your brother.” She said softly. “I’m sorry if I came off as creepy or something, I promise I’m not creepy…..really.” 

     he thinks about it --about the pictures people take, they way he’d been so briefly in the spotlight, the way people are going to dissect willy’s life from a trail of social media posts and sneaked photos on camera phones. “ no-- ” he decides, smile friendly, “ --you didn’t, don’t worry about it. there’s much worse things than being the subject of an artist’s portrait. ” willy’s michigan hockey bag is over his shoulder now, and he makes to leave, phone buzzing in an annoyed fashion in his pocket. still, ryan pauses, “ can i see it? if that’s all right? ”

[ryanrafters-blog]

honeybeed:

           she’s plopped in an empty booth, damp rag just sitting on the surface as she plays candy crush under the table - it’s the pretense of cleaning the table, but there’s no rush and she truly cannot be assed to hurry up when there’s no real cause for motivation. gaze lifts, though, when her name is called; for a moment she worries she’s about to be scolded but it only takes a second for a smile to break across her face instead. ‘ aw, nah, ryan, ‘s okay ! ’ she chirps, sliding out from the booth & slipping her phone into her pocket. ( might as well actually clean off the table, now. ) ‘ i don’t mind stickin around. ‘s another coupla bucks in my pocket, anyway. ’

     " suit yourself. " ryan says, but it's with a touch of fondness that he looks back down to his phone with a shake of his head. rosie's a good worker honestly --maybe not the best at her job, but she rakes in the tips and keeps the customers from getting angry, so that more than makes up for her clumsiness and flighty memory. " --i know my company's just too good to pass up, right? " he jokes, elbows on the counter, chin perched on hands as he grins. ( beside him his phone buzzes, 'dying?? good riddance bro' says a message from willy --ryan frowns and furiously types back ).

[ryanrafters-blog]

doctorthompsonx:

Clarke realized what she said and covered her mouth quickly. “Oh…I’m sorry….I was drawing you and I wasn’t quite finished yet.” She admitted, a blush creeping up her face. “But it’s okay…..I’m sure you have somewhere important to be.” 

     “ oh. ” he says, blinking in surprise, one hand idly twirling willy’s stick in one hand. his phone buzzes, and ryan looks down to a row of frowny faces across the screen. he looks back at the woman, the notebook in her hand and black stained fingers. it’s oddly touching; a little creepy maybe, but still it means something, that he’s apparently interesting ( or weird ) enough to warrant being a subject. “ it’s just my brother, ” he says after a hesitation. “ --if you wanted to finish. ”

[ryanrafters-blog]

doctorthompsonx:

Clarke was sitting on a bench in the park, just enjoying her day off. She looked around trying to figure out what she could draw, when her eyes landed on someone. They looked interesting so she decided to draw them. Luckily for her the person stood still for a long time, so she could draw easily. She was almost finished when the person went to walk away. “No wait, I wasn’t done yet.” She cried out without thinking about it.

     ryan must look vaguely ridiculous, honestly --sweating his ass off with willy’s michigan hockey bag at his feet, hockey stick in one hand and phone in the other. he’d let willy use the rink just after he freshly zambonied it, loving the way his brother smiled and laughed his way through drills and keep away. course the little shit had to forget his phone in the locker room when they were already halfway home; ryan wasn’t about to walk all the way back and willy hadn’t been pleased to lug his bag all the way there either. so here ryan sat on some low park wall, hand resting on the blade of willy’s hockey stick, head tilted against it, focus completely on his rousing game of tetris. at least until he gets a text that willy wants iced coffee and needs money. seriously, what was wrong with that kid and his iced coffee addiction. he sighs, tucks his phone away and goes to slung the hockey bag over his shoulder when a female voice startles him. “ ah ! ” he twists to look at her, confused. “ sorry what. ”

[ryanrafters-blog]

haugens:

              ❛  that’s seriously a good game.  ❜  he nerds out within the first two minutes of them walking into GAMESTOP and looking around — he doesn’t know if they’re looking for something particular or if they’re just window shopping but the title they’ve just landed on sits in all its glory in the new releases section, and dex, as both a seller and a gamer, is ravished.  ❛  i can tell you more about it, i didn’t stop playing it for three days straight.  ❜

     ryan’s not the biggest video game geek around --he’s never owned a system and really only know call of duty and mario cart and way too much of the nhl series ( does mario cart even count as a video game? he thinks it does ). so really, ryan’s just going by how fucking cool the covers look as he browses the store --and pretends not to grimace at the prices. “ is it? ” he asks, looking up from the spacey looking themed thing he has in hand. “ i don’t --don’t know much about this... stuff. not my forte. ”

[ryanrafters-blog]

closcted:

              surely he seems like a thief or something even worse, since he’s been helplessly roaming through a toy store for the past half an hour. glancing at his watch as if he has somewhere to be, he decides it’s high time he picked something for his boys. he spots a person close to him & subtly clears his throat, so that he wouldn’t scare them.         ❛     excuse me ?    ❜         he offers an amicable grin & holds up a couple of different toys.         ❛     i’m a little stuck. do you happen to know what’s cooler right now   ——   star wars or captain america ?     ❜         he chuckles at himself for sounding like an actual grandpa. he has a preference himself from back when he was younger, but he can’t seem to catch enough time to watch all the new movies.

     ryan is very good at gag gifts --better than willy anyway ( though he'd certainly argue that point with crossed arms and a dramatically pouting mouth ). so when they’re invited to a good friend's birthday outing, ryan declares himself in charge of the humorous angle until it's moot, leaving willy to mull over the more serious gift. that’s what finds him drifting into the toy shop now, anyway, ice coffee in hand, sunglasses dangling from the collar of his shirt and hat decidedly on backwards. he chews absentmindedly on the plastic straw as he surveys the shelves before him, taking his time as he stares at different sorts silver plastic tiaras complete with pink faux fur and glittering gemstones --partly contemplating his selection, mostly enjoying the air conditioning heaven of a retail store. should he get brandon a fairy wand too? attention jerks to the interloper, thoughts scattered as he takes in the offered selections. gag gifts may be his forte --pop culture is not. ryan blinks, shrugs. “ dunno, man. not really the best person to ask --star wars, i guess? captain america’s going through all that weird nazi shit in the comics or whatever, right? ”

[lostinawatercup]

For you there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.

Hey Brother - Avicii (via lostinawatercup)

[feathersonahurricane]

Visit Original Link

But everybody needs someone beside ‘em Shining like a lighthouse from the s e a 

[ryanrafters-blog]

hemophiliia:

An amused chuckle rolled over their lips. “That sounds like an interesting way to name something… I want to say that my mother had the creativity and foresight to name me with that tactic, however she is just obsessed with Louis Armstrong and had been hoping for a son and was not going to be hindered by the fact I was assigned female at birth. It helps now though. I would rather be a Louis than a Jessica.” They paused. “That was what the landlady thought I should be named. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

     ryan is quick to smile. “ louis’ a pretty cool name though ; good conversation piece. i think my mom flipped oven to a random page in a book or something -- my brother got named after fucking shakespeare. how unfair is that? he doesn’t even like shakespeare--- ” ryan doesn’t really like shakespeare either, but that’s really not that point. “ that’s what i’m looking for though --not shakespeare-- but for my brother. some kind of tea that’s supposed to help with muscles or something. i dunno. ”

[ryanrafters-blog]

CLOSED // @percydewitt

     “ hey ! hey, witts-- ” he doesn’t even try for cool and casual right now. at this point, ryan’s a little too desperate, voice carrying easily down the hall ( and probably through the walls to other tenants’ displeasure ). “ --you won’t happen to know how to pick a lock --would you? ”

[ryanrafters-blog]

willyrafters:

     ryan’s right –this is more a habit than anything ;  something that’s long exceeded the need for whispered permission. soft steps can retrace themselves all the way back to chicago, back to before they were set on different paths. he’d tried to grow out of it ( their father’s cautious conversations about space and boundaries fresh in his ears ). it’d been especially enlightening when ryan had gone to michigan for that first year in the ntdp and willy was stuck in chicago. he’d managed well enough ; no dark circles or too many sleepless nights, but that year hadn’t exactly changed the fact that when ryan came home old habits had come tip toeing back, didn’t change the fact that even now they both know that twilight hours bring creaking floorboards.

     ( it’s just sleeping ; it’s not wrong. he feels safer, and what the fuck is wrong with that? )

     willy hums in response, an apologetic noise as he crawls over ryan in a movement familiar with time. it’s easy to slip over his form and slide into the place between ryan and the wall. his smile meets the dark as he wiggles his way under the sheet, careful not to kick ryan’s legs in the process. pause. silence. he jabs his fingers between ryan’s ribs, not on accident. “ pssst— ryan. ”

     it should be weird --he's twenty one and old enough to buy his own alcohol now, and yet he's letting this nineteen year old brother crawl into his bed. but it's not, and he's really too tired to contemplate what that means. willy's always been a little clingy ( ryan attributes it to an absent mother ; and perhaps a brother's over-protectiveness ), always been too prone to disruptive sleep patterns even when he was still learning to walk on his own. dad had long given up being worried when willy's bed was empty at night, knowing he'd somehow find him clinging to ryan's back like some extra warm kola bear. ( he'd long given up the thinly veiled lectures over breakfast about boundaries too ).

      he supposes he'll have to figure this out if he ever brings a girl home. if he ever brings a girl home.

      willy crawls over him in movements time worn and careful, as unobtrusive as they can be. course it's all for nothing when there's fingers poking at his ribs and a voice carrying over the hum of the fan he keeps in his bedroom. " fuck off --i'm trying to sleep. " he groans, eyes still stubbornly shut. it doesn't last long, however, barely space for a breath passing before he's rolling onto his back ( an elbow not so accidentally getting willy in the chest as he fights for an extra few inches of space ), gaze directed at the ceiling and then the dark shape of willy's face. " ---fine, what? "

[ryanrafters-blog]

    quick fyi that alex and i changed the rafters’ history a little bit so that they grew up in chicago and later moved to austin! it’ll be around five years that they’ve lived in austin now. two since alex got his own apartment.

[ryanrafters-blog]

hemophiliia:

They were unsure how long they spent with their eyes trained on a box of tea tucked neatly onto the top shelf of the store. They were admiring the paisley design on the box when a stranger’s hand came into view. “Oh,” They said in surprise, eyes blinking rapidly. “Ahem. I don’t think it’s very good. I think that tea is trying to overcompensate with its really pretty design. I’ve been trying to figure it out… What is Space Cinnamon flavour anyway? There is no cinnamon in space…I think. No, I know. That would be a big deal, I’m sure. Sounds fake.”

     “ oh. ” ryan says, hand dropping back down to his side, gaze wandering to the other. space cinnamon glares back at him when he takes a closer look at the box, mouth tugs into a slightly disgusted frown. “ uh -- yeah not what i wanted anyway. ” he’s looking for some flavor his mom used to keep in the back of the drawer for when they were sick ; doesn’t remember the name or flavor, had thought maybe he could recognize the packaging. whatever it was though, it definitely wasn’t ‘ space cinnamon. ’ “ it sounds like they named it by throwing darts at a board. ”

[ryanrafters-blog]

willyrafters:

     he does his best to duck away from ryan’s hand ( fails at it, pouts and doesn’t really mean it ). it’s all for show, honestly, because there’s no place willy likes more than being under the solid weight of ryan’s arm –the rink is a close second, but some days ryan and hockey are more synonymous than not. ( oh, he wishes they could play together –like the sedin brothers and the canucks  ). “ shut up. ” he laughs, a playful shove delivered to ryan’s shoulder as he passes. “ –i’m gunna make you carry all my shit, i swear to god. ” seriously though, getting all his stuff into two bags and then getting them to the airport in detroit hadn’t exactly been the easiest thing. what’s the point of having ryan if he’s not gunna help?

     “ fuck off -- ” he’s laughing too though, stumbling after his brother to a deliver a shove in quick retaliation at willy’s back. ( mothers do not look so pleased, callous looks sent his way that dull the corners of his smile ; lips curving into a more apologetic shape ). it’s not far to the baggage claim, and he waits somewhat impatiently for willy’s bags to make their appearance on the conveyor, rather beat and each marked with a trio of red, white, and blue bandannas. the first he pulls off has a bit more duct tape on the seams then he remembers ( new luggage, he mentally notes, or get it reinforced ). “ the fuck you have in here? ” ryan says, hauling the bag back to where willy’s waiting and dropping it down with a thud. “ did ya kill your roommate and stash his body parts or somethin’? ”

[ryanrafters-blog]

willyrafters:

     he’s grateful for the air conditioning that even ryan’s low grade apartment has –perhaps it’s not cranked as high as it could be, but willy’s more than aware of things like financial constraints ( can hardly begrudge the low turned ac ). but the heat isn’t really the reason he can’t sleep, nor is it the fact that he’s sprawled out on a couch instead of some bed. ryan had tried ( as he always did ) to give up his bed, willy had remained stubborn ( as he too always did ). he pushes the blanket from his legs, moving to stand and make his way through the darkened apartment to the kitchen. the tap sounds loud when he fills a glass with water, liquid cold against his lips as he surveys edges turned unfamiliar in the gray twilight. he has no desire to return to the couch.

     he doesn’t know when he finds himself padding to ryan’s bedroom, but maybe it’s with habit older than skating that has him seeking the door left open to help with air flow. the floorboards creak under his feet all the same despite his light steps ; one, two, three and knees just brush the bedspread. “ —ryan. ”

@ryanrafters

     ryan isn’t exactly a light sleeper –it’s not really beneficial to be so in an apartment complex with thin walls. yet still, he finds himself pulled from dreams at the sound of the tap in the kitchen, eyes still closed but senses acutely alert. it’s always been like this, he supposes, some sort of inherent sense kept tuned to willy whenever he stayed. so ryan lies there on the cusp of sleep and waits for the slow creaking footsteps. sure enough a minute later they’re there, a strange sort of constant that he’s long grown accustomed to. he’s used to this : willy’s insomnia and the way it seems to be eased when he’s curled up against his chest.

     he gives a small huff of tired annoyance at the gentle prodding voice ( more for show than anything ). “ wills— “ he doesn’t open his eyes , rolling to one side to make more room. “ –you don’t have t’ ask. ” ( how many times has this happened? ryan has long stopped counting ).

[ryanrafters-blog]

CLOSED // @honeybeed

     eyes peer at the clock --slow moving hands seeming to move even slower with the monotony of boredom. one hour until closing. face buries in hands --he hates being bored. he texts willy with his phone beneath the counter ( ‘ help me im dying ‘ ), sneaks a look at rosie, examines the mostly empty diner-- “ hey, roe ! ” ryan calls after a moment, “ if you wanna head out i’ll cover for ya --closing’ll be a clinch. ”

[ryanrafters-blog]

willyrafters:

     he yelps, more for dramatics than anything ( as if ryan could ever hurt him ; as if ryan would ever hurt him beyond playful pigtail pulling ). ryan lets go finally and willy rolls his eyes, slipping into the dutifully into the role of insolent little brother. “ yeah, yeah, ry –missed you too. ” it’s nonchalant on the surface, but he means it, hands still placed in a semblance of a hug. he blinks, the depth of how much he truly missed this settling in his stomach, slow and comfortable. lips quirk into a smile ; they should probably get moving. willy jerks his head in the direction of the baggage claim, “ hope you’ve been training up ‘cuz i got a ton of stuff. ”

     he steps back but can’t quite suppress the urge to ruffle willy’s hair, so he goes for it, smirking all the while. “ you know i’m way stronger than you, ” he teases, though he’s not positive that’s exactly true anymore. maybe it hasn’t been true for a while now ( since ryan’s sacrifices and willy’s commitment ). ryan sweeps his arm in the direction of the baggage claim, a slight mocking bow as he says, “ --lead the way, man. ”