𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊!

☆。*ﾟ⁠multiverse + multiship // a decently active indie rp blog hosting both ocs and a handful of canon characters, all penned by dot. ◡̈

[sostarsick]

☆。*ﾟ⁠multiverse + multiship // a decently active indie rp blog hosting both ocs and a handful of canon characters, all penned by DOT ( they/she, 25+, any gendered slang and nicknames are ok ). the only reason i'd go more than a week without posting is bc i'm sad lol

none of my muses are straight!!! i wouldn't know how to even do that!!!!!

GUIDELINES . MUSES . OPEN STARTERS . WISHLIST . RESOURCE HUB .

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS: most can be adapted for aus/verses outside of slice-of-life.

ADRIEN MAYEUR ── late 20’s, cisman, he/him, benjamin voisin fc. ◦◦◦ ( bass player in a band )

ALEXANDER ‘ALEX’ ANDERSON ── mid/late 20's, cisman, he/him, devin craig fc. ◦◦◦ ( vintage reseller ) 

BRUNA SANZ ── early 30's, transwoman, she/her, zion moreno fc. ◦◦◦ ( event organizer )

IVO MACURA ── mid/late 20's, cisman, he/him, sandro rosta fc. ◦◦◦ ( production assistant in tv/film )

JAMIE STETSON ── mid 30's, cisman, he/him, callum turner fc. ◦◦◦ ( theater actor/instructor )

JESSE MERRICK ── early 30's, cisman, he/him, joe keery fc.   ◦◦◦ ( cartoonist )

KAMILI JAMES ── mid/late 20's, ciswoman, she/her, laura kariuki fc. ◦◦◦ ( hairstylist )

OMAR ERICSON ── late 20's, cisman, he/him, tyriq withers fc.   ◦◦◦ ( superhero / radio dj )

RICHARD 'RICKY' COREA ── late 20's/early 30’s, cisman, he/him, josh heuston fc. ◦◦◦ ( elementary teacher / bartender )

ZOEY MANTERE ── mid 20's, ciswoman, she/her, sofia bryant fc. ◦◦◦ ( trust fund baby )

TEST MUSES: no bios written anywhere but in my mind ◡̈ i'll get around to it! feel free to ask in the meantime.

hhhhh

[floralglows]

── ricky's entire face lights up, good-humored, and graham's does the opposite. his eyes narrows and his lips tug down into an annoyed ( but not angry ) scowl, before his head tips back and his eyes roll. "thought it'd be funny." he repeats the words as he lets his chin drop into the hand at the counter of the bar, which is exactly where he'd overheard ricky telling a co-worker that he had, in fact, lost the knicks jersey graham had left at his place for the last three months. he'd told gray the exact opposite: that it was safely tucked away in his dresser drawer. "you know what else is written up there?" his sense of humor has finally returned as he asks this question, scowl replaced with a playfully sinister smile, eyebrows flicking up in question. "you owe me three-hundred bucks for that shit."

[sostarsick]

hand drawn back but smile unyielding, ricky straightens himself up with a hmph. he’s still technicallyon the clock for another fifteen minutes, and should probably look busy - regardless of the fact that graham has unknowingly ( or, more likely, knowingly ) turned his dial all the way into the green, ricky reaches behind the bar for a rag and goes through end-of-shift motions. eyes rove over graham’s face the whole while. “that thing was not worth three hundred. don’t try and upcharge me for pain and suffering, gray. your warranty expired weeks ago.” ricky wipes uselessly at a nonexistent spot against the wood, stuck for a moment watching the other. delighting shamelessly in the nettled smile he’s drawn out of him. totally cool and healthy dynamic to have with an ex. even more enticing this way, ricky might say! he drops the cloth aside and leans in, rests his weight on his elbows and his elbows on the counter. he nods to a jar holding a few crumpled bills beside them. “tip me well then, so i can start paying you back right away.” batting eyes and a grin. “that’s not all you came here for, is it?”

[invcntions]

juke can't help but watch the other patch himself up, a faint sense of relief flooding through him at the confirmation they do look alright — yet he feels a little guilty at the sudden realisation he's searching for something that might identify the stranger. a tattoo. a scar. he doesn't need to know, yet it's an odd thought he might come across him again with no idea it's the same guy who'd just saved him, or who doesn't seem to stop bringing a smile to his features now. “ just family drama, far easier to put up with fighting when it's strangers doing it. ” it's oversharing, even if it is intended as a joke, juke still pauses momentarily as he tries to remind himself he doesn't know the guy under the mask. nor does the stranger probably want his life history. “ ah, i don't really do anything interesting. ” he settles on quickly moving the topic on, fighting the smile that tries to tug on his lips at how ridiculous the small band aid looks on a figure in a superhero suit. “ video games, movies, trying not to order take out. ” nothing compared to fighting crime. there hasn't been much time outside of work to explore, even less to meet people and build a particularly active social life. “ a tour guide could be good though, i'm still in pretty desperate need of somewhere that does a decent cup of coffee. you know, if you know anywhere - ” he could brush it off, leave it as room for a suggestion, and yet... “ - i'd always be happy for company. masked, or you know, unmasked. ”

[sostarsick]

ah, see - there are some conflicts that not even super-genetics can handle. that doesn’t mean omar’s chest doesn’t pang in sympathy. he deliberates in his mind, nearly comes back with a spill of his own deepest and darkest thoughts to forge some connection here. in all these years, he’s yet to meet anyone before who’s appealed to this sense in him so quickly and directly; this yearning to belong and fit in and know, be known. whew! “well. i’m glad you’re away from it. as long as it’s not you in the middle, i bet you’re better off.” omar definitely doesn’t let himself tick off the traits they have in common ( he’s terrible for take-out, god ) as he pulls his mask back down over his chin and instead busies his hands with rolling his glass from palm to palm. he falters with what sounds like an invitation. the glass clatters against the wood, and his rush to overcorrect elicits tiny sparks that crackle over the surface. helpless! fucked! he sets the glass down and drops his hands into his lap instead, eyes wide behind the fabric of his mask as he gawps at juke. for the first time in a really long time, hope fizzles, makes his knee bounce out of sight. he really shouldn’t. juke’s safety is not omar’s to jeopardize. things would be better, safer, if omar just left him alone. and yet … “you know the radio station?” comes tumbling out. “like ten blocks east of here? there's a cafe near there. they're open late. and then, the station - you can get to a stairwell around the back of the building. takes you up to the roof. cool views up there. if you're alright with heights.” he stills, gauging juke's reaction carefully. "i could meet you up there. like this." what's that feeling now? nervousness? gross. "if this is okay."  

[honeyvce]

“yeah, because easy’s fuckin’ boring, bruna.” blake’s response came quick, rough around the edges like he’d been biting the words back for too long already. his jaw flexed hard as he looked at her, eyes dragging across every tense inch of her like he was trying to figure out where exactly she’d slipped out of his grip. the thought of somebody else getting the softer version of her made something ugly twist low in his chest. worse knowing she was actually considering it. “you really think some safe asshole’s gonna look at you and feel nothin’? gonna sleep fine next to you every night?” a humorless laugh slipped from him as he shook his head once, stepping closer without thinking about it. typical. stubborn muscle memory. “c’mon. you’re bright. your head is on straight. you know damn well anybody after me’s just gonna feel like a placeholder.” cockiness exuded from him, but blake knew he was right. knew that straight down to his bones. his stare dropped briefly to her mouth before climbing back to her eyes, quieter now despite the tension sitting thick between them. “problem is—i don’t know how to stop lookin’ at you like this either.”

[sostarsick]

she turns her nose up at the sound of her name decorated in rancor. at the forefront of her hard stare burns bitterness, jolted by the sheer audacity he has to speak to her like this. like before, like nothing’s changed. but then, the way her system bristles feels like before too, and maybe bruna’s always been bad at telling the difference between familiar and worth the trouble. “why do you care?” she stands her ground when he enters her space, wills the thrill it sends up her spine not to show on her face. a finger raised to press against his chest. “what, because it’s not you, it’s not good? or good for me? don’t pretend you’re after my best interests now. not when you spent so long driving me fucking crazy.” there’s not enough fire in her words, not enough heat in her voice as she lays into him. it’s somewhere else. under her skin, coiling. stifling her bark, imploring her bite. bruna catches blake’s eyefall and chases it, gaze heady. thumb and ring join her index finger; she prods his chest, glowering.  when she speaks again, her tone is torn between challenge and disdain; “try.”

[andloves]

“ it is what it is. ” nelson shrugs with a small smile. it had been difficult, but he'd do it all over again, without hesitation. he likes to think he's done an alright job. sure, he can't offer them a perfect life, but they're happy and safe. it's enough. he draws a soft sigh as adrien's fingers stroke against his skin, “ i tried. i mean, somebody had to provide the dad jokes. ” he grins. it's always been his way — to lighten dark moments with laughter, to act like everything is fine and pretend the load is easier to carry than it is. as much as he prefers to talk about pretty much anything other than his parents, it feels unexpectedly nice to do this with adrien. if somebody had told him at the beginning of the night that they'd be here, like this, sharing pasts and gentle touches, nelson would have never believed them. he listens attentively as adrien speaks — doesn't interrupt, doesn’t try to crack a joke to make it all feel lighter. he can tell the other doesn't like to talk about it, even more so than himself, and his heart swells a little at the notion of adrien trusting him enough to share that piece of him. he wonders if he’s spoken about it like this before with anybody else, genuine and raw. “ i’m sorry about your grandad. it sounds like he meant a lot to you. ” nelson really wants to reach out, to let his palm cup his cheek or to link their fingers together, but then adrien's saying i don't want it, so he ignores the itch in his hand and shakes his head instead. can't bring himself to actually say no, though, he's never been a good liar. “ that's alright. ” he settles for instead, like it isn't already too late, gaze studying his features a little too intently for somebody expected not to care. he’s quiet for a moment before he asks “ ... what was france like ? do you ever miss it ? ” he nudges their legs together, thighs grazing, taking whatever touch he can without making the moment seem too real.

[sostarsick]

he’ll never do it, god, but there’s a fleeting moment where adrien feels inclined to thank nelson for his quiet, peace as he allows himself to just briefly revisit the past. there’s a telltale tug in the back of his throat, a mistiness that takes over his vision for only a beat. adrien’s quick to school his face back into something stoic and inoffensive … but for a second there, he hadn’t felt pure fury at being caught vulnerable. he nods once, and that’s that phase of conversation ended. then nelson touches him, sweet and small, and adrien turns his head to look at him. really look at him. brows knit together and then smooth out. he’s not entirely sure what he’s looking for as his eyes rove nelson’s expression, not entirely sure what to do with the warmth that blooms across his chest and settles his shoulders. “petit pois. are you trying to get to know me?” none of his usual vitriol in it; adrien allows a slow smile to tug at the corners of his mouth, too amused for his usual rancor. he reaches out to push against nelson’s chest. this time, however, he moves with the touch, crawling over nelson’s body to bracket his waist between his knees. adrien hovers over nelson for a moment, taking him in, quiet and careful as he holds his chin. “fine. boring. i grew up in perpignan. it is not like the pictures of france you’ve seen.” then he tucks in, noses under the line of nelson’s jaw as he melts into his frame. “i miss the ocean.” it’s so dumb. so silly. if it were with anyone else, adrien wouldn’t bother doing this: talking, this familiar back-and-forth. he gingerly drags his touch through nelson’s curls and nips at the column of his throat and asks against his skin all nice and polite, “did you grow up here?” 

[forwcrds]

it isn't just zoey. mara feels it too. what she once thought was just an undeniable pull between them has turned into something more. from the start, it had been a slippery slope and she'd been delusional to think that going back for more every time wasn't going to lead them to this. blurred lines and complicated feelings. selfishly, mara wants to stay in the delusion – to live in it, to keep dancing around the truth. because admitting what she feels for zoey feels like handing her control of her heart, giving her permission to crush it in between her fingers if she wants to. “ so… what – is this like an ultimatum ? ” her voice falters, every attempt to keep it steady falling short. “ you knew what this was. what exactly are you hoping for ? ”

[sostarsick]

an ultimatum. there’s a lot of power in that, isn’t there? a great deal of control. and zoey, with no experience wielding either, flounders with her answer. sputtering haplessly, unable to meet the heed of mara’s eyes on her - she throws her hands up to link behind her own neck, a grounding weight that keeps zoey from doing something stupid like reaching out. “yeah. yes it is.” confidence like a house of cards, anguish present in the fold between her brows. “figure out that i’m what you want.” petulance in her tone, a shuddering sigh pushed past zoey’s lips “and you know it changed. somewhere along the way, you felt it too. don’t lie.” she feels too small for her words. too small for what this thing between them has become, too. “what exactly are you so afraid of?” 

[andloves]

“ maybe i'm not looking for a sexy, sordid love affair right now. ” she counteracts. he only seems to be confirming what she'd thought, why she'd cut and run without warning. it's not like she needs serious, but she also doesn't need unnecessary drama, or to allow herself to get attached to something that won't ever be hers. they'd been tiptoeing a dangerous line, they're better off this way. “ you didn't do anything wrong. we just ... what's the point if we're so 'doomed' ? ”

[sostarsick]

ricky’s best response, after a stretch of silence and the twisting of his features around deep, intensive thought, is ‘thbpttt’, pushed between his pursed lips. look, he’s not made for seriousness. he’s not meant for the intellect a real relationship demands. but if there’s ever been a moment, a face, a person to make him reconsider his capacity … “will you let me know when you are?” he asks with an easy smile, hopes his airy tone allows his joke to land well enough. ricky hums, bouncing on the balls of his feet, energizer bunny. “it’s romantic,” matter-of-factly, “there’s a whole shakespeare play about it, i’ve heard.” and then, more earnestly, “isn’t it a little more tragic that we’ll have to spend the rest of our lives wondering?” 

[honeyvce]

leyla’s fingers curled tighter around the strap of her little purse as she followed beside him through the crush of bodies, doe eyes flicking around the crowded room like she still couldn’t fully believe she’d let herself get swept away this easily. bass shuddered through the floor beneath her heels while colored lights washed over ricky every few seconds, catching against unfairly pretty features and all that dark hair in a way that made him look less like an actual person and more like somebody a girl accidentally ruins her life over. honestly, she was still trying to figure out how someone who looked like that had zero issue approaching her out of nowhere with all this confidence pouring out of him. every time he glanced back toward her, every time his hand skimmed the small of her back to guide her through the crowd, warmth unfurled embarrassingly fast beneath her skin. “you’re very smooth, y’know that?” like fabio-style suave. the accusation came soft, threaded with shy amusement as she tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “like suspiciously smooth. i feel like you practice this in the mirror before parties.” attempted tease, a little lame, but warranted a smile to dance on leyla’s lips. then came the good enough to eat line and, god, that nearly did her in completely. heat rushed straight into her cheeks, her mouth parting around a startled little laugh while she shook her head at him. “you say things like that to every girl you rescue from the corner of a party?” there was no bite behind it though. if anything, she sounded flattered despite herself. “vodka cranberry, please. which—fun fact—apparently says a lot about me according to everybody else here.” his next question lingered with her longer. leyla smoothed her dress again, thoughtful now instead of embarrassed. “i don’t think i really came here looking for anything specific. maybe just… curious, i guess.” her gaze lifted back to him slowly, cautious curiosity beginning to outweigh the nerves curling in her stomach. “but there’s no way you came here alone.” it made her wonder if there was someone lingering, glaring daggers into her back.

[sostarsick]

smooth. suspiciously so, even! that draws a laugh out of him, one that shudders his shoulders and pinches pink across the base of his neck. “you caught me,” he sighs, hand over heart, “at least an hour in the mirror beforehand, to keep me sharp. and then an hour’s debrief afterward.” completely joking, of course — in truth, his skill only goes as far as talking. he’s a bit useless in practice, overzealous and touchy to make up for spoken earnest that he has trouble tapping into. happy to play the game. wouldn’t know what to do with winning. the hand on his heart is held out in surrender. “nothing up my sleeve, sweetheart. you’re free to check.”  he grins, won by the rose tinge of leyla’s cheeks. multi-colored lights do not do her justice, don’t give her wit it’s time in spotlight. “don’t you know? i’ve been saving these lines for you all this time.” he only breaks away from the reverie of her to put in their orders when the moving line allows — a vodka cranberry, and a jack and coke. when he turns back into her orbit with glasses in hand, he cocks his head curiously at the red cocktail. “does it?” brings it up next to his ear and shakes his head when it doesn’t speak. “gone quiet now. guess i’ll have to figure you out myself.” funny only to himself, surely. ricky hands the drink over, has a swig of his own as his eyes rove over her past the rim of the glass. “why’s that hard to believe?” lips twitch toward a small smirk. “i came with friends. they’re on the prowl somewhere. we'll find each other later. or maybe we won't! i like your company better anyway.”

[silkchvffon]

HE GROWS QUIET, listening to the familiar beat of the song they'd listen to lying on the bleachers during lunch. the memory, once tinged with the happiest hues, only saddens him now. all he gave up – it's why he can't bring himself to meet her gaze. instead he nurses his drink, clearing his throat. « i don't know what to say, » he admits quietly.

[sostarsick]

she dawdles with the plastic cup between her palms, lets the crinkling sound answer for her as she swallows past a knot in her throat. a sideways glance, short-lived desperation in the twitch of her brows. “you don’t have to say anything - just the way you like it.” as much as kamili would like to cut with her words, they come tumbling out limp and listless, tired with the time they’ve been held in. fingertips pat against the red plastic, eyes shifting toward the horizon as the sky peters darker. “how long are you back?” a beat. “you like it out there?” 

[saternal]

the moon resided in its waxing gibbous state, and briar knew what that entailed: a high energy adjustment period, a gentle push toward her goals. what was her purpose tonight? comfort, enjoyment, and, if the stars were correctly aligned, perhaps a soft kiss before the night was through.

back inside jesse's vehicle, they were nestled among blankets and snacks, more than enough to leave leftovers. his question lingered in her mind, and she realized she hadn't yet told him what she did for work. "oh lord, that's right! i never did get around to tellin' you!" she beamed, excitement painting her feminine features. "i work for an agency that hosts children's parties. i'm a party princess. kinda like a disneyland actress, just without the castle." she giggled, using her fingers to count. "i've done tinker bell, barbie, rapunzel, sleeping beauty, cinderella— even blossom from the powerpuff girls the other week. that one was more for the parents. it was a whole y2k theme, you should've seen it." her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "anybody can hire us, but it's mostly for little kids. it pays real good, and sometimes you get free food or a gift bag. rich folks tip like crazy, too. that's what i've been savin' up with." she shook her head, cheeks warming at his second question. "and i can't say i looked into the movie too much. truth is, i was too nervous. i forgot what we were even seein'. i was more worried about not lookin' a mess tonight."

[sostarsick]

“a party — what?” incredulity colors his features, shoots his eyebrows up his forehead as he tries to keep up with the list of names briar hurls at him. but jesse’s just as enthralled, charmed by the vigor in her voice as she recounts her work. where others muscle through talking about their day-to-day, briar seems to come alight at the opportunity. jesse’s a sucker for sunshine. “wow. you’re really opening my world up here, blondie. that is a damn good line-up. wish i got paid in gift bags.” the grin that spreads across his features comes easy, pairing well with the flush that colors the shells of his ears. each character conjures an image in his mind, all with bright blue eyes and a darling southern twang — if nothing else this evening, he’ll at least walk away with new muse for his next cartoon. 

he draws himself up in the slightly-reclined seat, reaching into the center console for the drive-in’s poster he’d pulled from a phone pole a week or so ago. it’s been crumpled and smoothed over, the edges curling inward. depicted is the cover of an 80’s slasher film, the title drawn to be dripping blood. classic. it’s jesse’s turn to speak animatedly; “the reviews online are terrible, and the plot is insane. i’m hoping it’ll be one of those ‘so bad, it’s good’ deals. buuut if it turns out to be so bad it’s bad-“ he slips the poster back where he found it and taps a finger against the cover of the gifted sketchbook, smile cheeky, “i’ll make us up something better.” there he goes, soft-eyed and endeared, shaking his head in awed disbelief. “you, nervous about that? i can’t wrap my head around it. you’re - i mean. just. look at you.” and he could go on and on, but he’ll save it at the tip of his tongue for another time. “i guess i was nervous too. still am, kinda’. if i start dropping bad puns or doing impressions, promise you’ll just up and leave me here, or ill never learn.” 

[invcntions]

the guilt claws deep in his chest, twisting with the instant desire to reach for jamie in some attempt that's supposed to be reassurance. he has to fight the urge not to move, hand forced to remain by his side when squeezing jamie's softly still feels like second nature. “ you don't need to talk to him. ” jai shakes his head, unsure he can imagine anything worse than watching the two men in conversation across the room. “ i just — ” shoulders lift in a small shrug. “ i wanted you to hear he'd be there from me. ” though he's unsure how much better that makes it. “ i, uh, haven't told him about us yet. ” the honesty's more unsettling than he expects it to be, perhaps because it's so much more than he's offered his new boyfriend. how can he tell him when he still doesn't know how to talk about it in the past tense. “ he'll be weird about it, and, you know... it's not really any of his business. ”

[sostarsick]

not needing to talk to the guy provides only a touch of relief. he’ll still have to see him, won’t he? will still have to watch jai moving on. maybe he won’t have to fake sick - maybe the nausea he feels now just thinking about it will carry him to the night in question. jamie starts to answer with something polite ( thanks for the heads-up, i appreciate the warning, pretty please take it back ) when he’s struck silent by jai’s admission. he blinks owlishly. brows knit together, lips twitch toward an upside down smile. “you, uh. oh.” his mind short-circuits. it’s one thing to move on. it feels like another to shove it into a drawer, out of sight, not to be spoken of when it had once been the axis on which their shared world turned. jamie struggles to parse through the emotions screaming in him: none of it feels good! “yeah. that’s fine. god forbid he feel weird, right?” it comes out sharper than he wanted, pairing well with the taut set of his jaw. “i’m glad you’re able to just ... put it away like that.” maybe, just maybe, he’s being unfair. 

[andloves]

“ don’t put any ideas into my head. ” hamish grins playfully. tries not to linger on the baby or the pretty for too long, yet his heart still skips and his cheeks still flush all the same. it’s nice to feel a sense of normality between them, after how tense their exchanges had been up until now. it feels easy to slip back into it, even after all this time. like coming home. “ i still have a sweet tooth, not much has changed on that front. give it a try, but i'll judge harshly. ” hamish chuckles. he’s certain he remembers jamie’s, every detail about the other seemingly imprinted on his brain. the relief he feels knowing jamie hadn’t hated him is flooding. he wouldn't have blamed him, with the way hamish had taken off on him last time. he had been cowardly, but not now, he's not going to bury his head in the sand any longer. he watches with fond eyes as his palm settles against jamie's chest, right where it belongs. god he'd been stupid. stupid to think he could live without jamie, stupid to leave, stupid to waste so much time. nobody has ever made him feel the way the other does, and he's starting to realize nobody ever could. he snorts softly and nods, “ you seem a little too pleased about that. ” narrows his eyes playfully, “ but yes. i hated it. couldn't decide if i wanted to run away or jump on you. ” he admits with a chuckle. he's leaning precariously toward jumping on him right now, especially when he looks at him like that. he cocks his head in thought, “ ... there's no harm in practicing, hm ? i'd hate to look rusty ... ” he probably shouldn't, but he's denied himself of what he wants for too long, he's tired of it. he finds himself edging closer, magnetized, pressing himself into jamie's space. really takes his time with it as he brushes their noses together, close enough he can feel the warmth of his breath, before he captures his lips softly. there's no need to rush this time, there's no knocking at the door, nobody else to consider but jamie.

[sostarsick]

it’s almost too much — he’s a hairs breadth from pinching himself awake. getting over what they’d had had been, first of all, a complete failure. second, agony. he’d surely driven their friends in the other room insane with his whining and pining in the last months. what better place to put it all now than at hamish’s feet, his to do with what he pleases. falling into this ( talking, laughing, prodding at each other and smiling like some dumb teenagers in love ) is like putting on a well-loved coat: warm, right. he’s starry-eyed, barely containing himself as hamish enters his space and comes close. makes himself stay perfectly still. the second he has the go-ahead that hamish’s lips promise, jamie can’t reach to touch him fast enough. he holds his jaw with one hand, thumb gentle where it brushes his cheek. the other hand fixes on hamish’s hip, tethering him close as he kisses him, tender and cloying, with what feels like all the time in the world. when he breaks, it’s only enough to mutter something that sounds like, “i’ve missed you so fucking much,” as he moves his touch to hamish’s face. he runs his fingers through blond locks, dawdles at the nape of his neck. “i’m not going to mess this up again.” smiling, but his stare is determined. “you’re it for me, h. i’m sorry.” jamie cups the side of hamish’s neck and leans in to brush the tips of their noses together too. “we have a lot of time to make up for.”

[vvisteriagrows]

maren basks in the irony of the anger that catches in her throat ; alex talks like she's some saint, untouchable in her piety. all she hears is an excuse to leave her alone on this pedestal, this shelf, bleeding heart and all. beneath its veil of thorns, the anger looks quite a bit more like panic. she watches the creases in his expression, like she could tell their fortune in its movements if she were just observant enough. "losing me ?" she echoes. teeth chatter as adrenaline rises. she hopes to god he can't hear it in her voice. hardly a creature of confrontation, it's all a pitiful display of her frustration. "you don't want to lose me, so the solution is to end this all yourself ?" to hurt me first ? the question, like a dagger, sits heavily in her grasp and waits for her fatal blow. she sheaths it. "i appreciate that you're thinking about all of this," not a lie, considering maren was practically strung together with discretion. "but this . . . talking like this right now means that we're already there. i don't know how we walk back from that."

[sostarsick]

so grossly averse to confrontation, a meek man in the in-between fibers of a rope about to break — digits furl and unfurl around nothing, he has nothing to offer in the way of sense and solid accountability, accountable for nothing but wishy-washy half-promises, he can promise to want to try but can’t commit to actually trying, can’t handle failure so won’t even try, just — “i’m sorry,” he breaks, voice thick with emotion he hasn’t touched since he was only yay-high and still believed in the good of himself. alex’s expression crumples, wide brown eyes welling. “i don’t know - i’m sorry. i’m sorry, maren. i don’t know what i’m doing, i -“ shame, ugly and cold, drawing a fat rivulet from the corner of his eye. he kills it with the heel of his hand quickly, scowls at his display and angles himself away. mess, facade cracked, mess. he drags a heavy palm down his face, shoulders shuddering around something he won’t let out in full. “it wasn’t supposed to go this far.” the conversation. the situation. either or. when he turns back to face her, his face is torn between desperation and contrition. “i don’t know what to say. tell me what to do. what should i do?” 

[aftrbdy]

‎   ‎   robin   should've   expected   it.   she   knew   things   between   her   and   ivo   had   been   rocky   for   a   while..   that   it   always   felt   like   they   were   arguing   about   something   new,   but   she   didn't   expect   this.   she   didn't   think   he'd   just   give   up   on   them   like   that.   that   it   was   just   that   easy.   ❝   it's   not   scolding,   it's   me   being   honest   with   you!   i   don't   understand   how   communication   is   this   hard   for   you.   ❞   she   sighed,   sitting   silently   for   a   moment   as   she   let   him   talk.   she'd   be   a   damn   liar   if   she   said   her   heart   didn't   sting   at   his   words.   him   not   understanding   what   they're   doing   made   everything   clear   up   for   her.   it   felt   like   driving   out   of   a   fog   and   being   able   to   see   the   roads   clearly   again.   ❝   so   that's   it?   you're   just   giving   up?   because   that's   just   the   easy   way   out   for   you,   isn't   it?   ❞   robin   scoffed,   disgust   written   all   over   her   features.   sure,   this   was   tiring   her   too..   but   she   cared   enough   about   ivo   to   stay   and   work   it   out…   but   she   couldn't   force   something   that   someone   else   doesn't   want.

[sostarsick]

a helpless sigh tips past his lips, head ducked to hide the way his eyes squeeze tight under duress. of course it isn’t easy. every muscle in his body screaming in protest isn't easy. it’s not what ivo wants, either. what he wants, at the very very least, is to know what he wants and how to put it into words. into something palatable, free of the scorn that tinges everything else in his life. communication is hard. it’s always been hard for him. where and when and by whom was he supposed to learn? the movies and shows he’d pored over in his youth hadn’t done well enough to prepare him for this. “don't say that,” he clips back as he looks up, voice almost lost to the rolling, roaring sound in his ears. “you don’t know what’s going through my head, what i’m thinking. this shit hurts me too.” he looks above her, because it’s easier to let the rest tumble out when he doesn’t have to watch her receive it; “i — don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know why it’s hard. i’ve always thought that the worst thing you can do is walk away from something difficult. i’ve seen it happen, and it’s shit. i don’t want that to be what im doing. but … but look what i am doing to you. to us.” he huffs, teeters where he stands. “we used to be really good, didn’t we?” 

[andloves]

“ i agree. ” nelson grins stupidly. he likes the way adrien sounds when he speaks his native tongue, it's very tempting to invite him back into bed just so he can listen to him utter a few phrases while he's pressed up against him, which isn't very casual of him at all, so he pushes the urge down. he can't disguise the way the corners of his mouth lift as adrien edges closer. he's practically frozen still, like if he moves too quick, he might spook the other and send him running. swallows a little roughly as adrien's fingers ghost his skin, is sure his heart is betraying him with the way it's surely thumping beneath adrien's palm. traitor. he chuckles. he does like it. is constantly chasing some form of connection in moments like this, but he's never had somebody stay this long. there's no guarantee adrien is staying either, but it feels hopeful. his question takes him a little by surprise. so they're jumping straight into the deep end. he sucks his gums as he considers how honest he should be. he usually keeps family talk vague and surface level, twists history into a punchline so it feels less vulnerable, but he finds the moment calls for something more genuine. “ it's just me, my brother and sister. ” he nods to the photo adrien had held, “ technically i've been their guardian since i was eighteen, but it's pretty much always been that way. they're nearly seventeen. ” it hadn't been easy, a damaged kid raising damaged kids, but nelson wouldn't change it. if he hadn't had them to keep him afloat, where would he be now ? he's happy, hopeful, has a reason. “ my parents were addicts ... are addicts ? i don't know. i haven't seen them in a long time. ” talking about it always brings him back to being that scrawny kid with unwashed clothes and an empty lunchbox, he's a little worried adrien can see it in him. he clears his throat, “ anyway. what about yours ? ”

[sostarsick]

adrien couldn’t answer for himself what sort of response he’d expected; maybe he half-counted on nelson telling some convoluted story to make him regret asking. maybe he’d expected some dumb joke, and adrien could've taken that as cemented proof that he has nelson figured out. what he gets instead is harrowing, grim and familiar. his hand stills where it scapes over nelson’s skin. hard eyes shift away from direct contact, but he slowly sinks himself down, sits with the weight of what he’s been told and lets a thoughtful sorrow pull the corners of his lips downward. “that must have been difficult. you were so young,” he offers carefully. then he strokes his finger over nelson’s collarbone and pokes him right above the heart. “you made them laugh a lot, didn't you?” when it’s his turn, he finds it hard to start, if only because he hasn’t talked about it - any of it! - in over a decade. has gotten by with vague references or outward lies. he doesn’t want to do that here, with nelson. not now. “my parents were cruel,” he says flatly, expression turning to steel as he cocks his head in nelson’s direction. “they were angry and sick. like yours - addicts. my grandfather took me in.” fondness trickles into his voice for just a second. “he was good. and then he was gone. i came here then. it has been just me, by myself, for, hm. a while.” tight eyes move to watch nelson’s expression, and a grimace ghosts his lips. “i like being alone,” he says, or warns, or lies. "i would not know what to do with somebody to worry about. or somebody worrying about me. i don't want it." adrien worries his lower lip between his teeth, quiet as he mulls over something in nelson's expression. "that won't happen here, will it?"  

[ofginjxints]

"Yeah, exactly why I don't live with a roommate anymore." She teased, though she wasn't exactly living glamorously. Her apartment was basically three small rooms - the living room/kitchen, her bedroom, and a small bathroom. Still, it was all hers. As were the band posters, the trinkets and the photos of loved ones. "Ah," she nodded, "a real Russian Roulette. Like dating apps too. But don't worry, unlike your roomie, I'm not sleeping anytime soon." She reassured, Ivo. "No, if you were part of my job you'd be a dead body." She deadpanned for a moment, before breaking character and laughing. "I'm a mortician - that was funny to me, and I do like my work. What about you?"

[sostarsick]

curiosity spikes his blood hot at the mention of dating apps; no stranger to the medium himself, so it feels like an unspoken alliance to bring it up. color him surprised! this is as tangible as his little hallway crush has ever been! “yeah, no kidding. at least the dating app stigma’s dying down these days. craigslist and marketplace will be cesspits forever. then again, there’s some ‘cess’ in the apps, too. you, um, must’ve noticed. if you’re on them. which i can’t imagine, by the way.” a smile hedges his lips, further inquiry bubbled in the back of his throat. but then he blanches, stock-still until she laughs first. it’s melodic. ivo’s late in joining, his shoulders dropping in relief. “shit, really? no offense - you don’t look like what i’d picture a mortician to look like. when’d you pick it up?” ivo draws himself up with a sense of pride; “production. you know the studio downtown? i work on one of the sets.“ and then, a little more meekly, “nothing credited, yet. i’m aiming for the director’s chair one day.” 

[sostarsick]

HHHHH i’ve been so fucking busy AHHHH!!!! i’ll get crackin on replies this weekend!!!!!