BAD WIRING.

are you feeling poorly? just soul-poor. body keeps banging on.         oc multi by maddie.

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if you came here expecting anything but chubby fellas :/ ur in for one fat disappointment :///

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deepwcb.

❝  Hey  hot  guy.  ❞  Distractedly,  she  gets  a  glimpse  of  his  adorable  bed  hair  and  unbelievably  handsome  face.  For  it’s  quite  unusual  to  hear  those  words  coming  from  him,  the  second  time  her  glance  lingers  on  him  longer.  SHE’S  SURPRISED, POSITIVELY.  They’re  OPPOSITE  POLES ;  his  calmness  brought  the  stability  she  needed  in  her  life,  and  in  her  head.  While  she  proudly  insists  that  his  existence  would  be  BORING  without  her  adding  some  SPARKLE  to  it.  ❝  I  say  yes.  ❞  she  plants  a  kiss  on  his  shoulder,  then  looks  up  at  him  as  her  chin  remains  against  his  arm.  ❝  You  know,  it’s  about  time  we  get  you  some  new  clothes,  mh ?  ❞    

he smiles with a closed mouth; it twists with mild embarrassment and good-natured disapproval a beat later. chris pushes out his stomach a bit ( not that he needs to, these days ) for show.

         ‘ you know. ’ it could be considered teasing if he weren’t hyperaware of her truth and his stretching of it. ‘ i shouldn’t be held responsible. this has been your doing. ’

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worldwell.

    Peggy would love to move in with him. Of course she would! She adores him to pieces, but… there’s still the difficulty of Bash, isn’t there? And her still being married and everything. It’s scandal enough just letting Patch stay the night. What would people start to think if they moved in together, brazen as anything? 

    As ever, her thoughts and feelings are painted all over her face. She seems to realise this though, and says something before he gets the wrong idea. 

        ‘ You know I’d love to. Actually, that’s all I want, but– but– ’ She grimaces, almost, buys herself a second to think on how to say this by tidying Warren up just a little. She’s lucky he’s so messy. ‘ What would people say, love? I’m still married to Bash and… Oh, please don’t think I don’t want to. I do. Very much so. But maybe it’s just… the wrong time. ’ 

    She rubs at her face and, ever the crier, is very aware of the fact that she’s welling up. 

his anxiety spikes following the words ‘you know i’d love to,’ and then it’s all calm, melancholic smiles from there. he’d known before he asked, of course, of the catch  ---  not a small one, either  ---  though he’d still hoped. for what, he’s uncertain. a more accepting ‘people’? ( a less present sebastian? )

rafferty’s hand makes a pitstop at warren, to pluck a piece of dry cereal from his hair, on its way to peggy. he touches her chin with his thumb, then her cheek with his fingertips.

         ‘ yes, ’ he agrees, appalling as ever in his ability to hide his sadness. ‘ maybe it is. but you should have it. i’ll sublet my spare room and help cover the cost. ’ without ulterior motive ( really, is he capable of harboring one? ), raff adds, ‘ and we’ll find you a tenant for the second floor. ’

[soulpoor-blog1]

adoredlife.

        jane glances up from her phone, busy typing out a text to moss about how they’re going to be late. to be honest, she isn’t sure why she bothers. it isn’t like charlie and moss are ever ready on time for anything. looking at chris’ outfit, she wonders if she should have said they’d be twenty minutes rather than five – after all, she’s got a whole new outfit to pick out.

‘the girls have got taste,’ she says, but she stops herself before she admits that she means bad taste. chris’ adorable, uncertain little face is enough to break her heart. she won’t let him hear anything negative tonight.

   instead, she gets up, letting out a heavy sigh. ‘guess i’d better let them dress me, too. to match.’

         ‘ no, no. ’ he touches her arm before she’s passed him, gentle and lingering. and then he’s smiling, because he knows a desire to spare him embarrassment is hardwired in. chris can live with looking silly; jane needn’t always fall on her sword for his sake.

         ‘ i like this, ’ he says of her outfit. plants a kiss just off to the side of her mouth. ‘ we’re already running late. ’

[soulpoor-blog1]

         ‘ we do karaoke thursdays and fridays. ’

it’s been quiet at the bar since opening. holland has been fishing for a conversational partner  ---  you guessed it!  ---  since opening. there’s no contesting that a crowd can turn from entertaining to overwhelming in the blink of an eye, but he’d jump at that option a hundred times before this. the hours roll by at a glacial pace; an infuriating crawl to post-shift freedom.

he leans partway over the bartop. a curl of hair springs loose and onto his face, and he blows it away before busting out his kindest smile.

         ‘ don’t judge us on the monday crowd  ---  it’s got a pulse on thursdays and fridays. ’

@pcrsonae​,  random.

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chris enters the room preemptively reddened. he’s tucked and untucked his overgrown hair behind his ears about a dozen times in preparation for ( loving! ) judgment. hoping, foolishly, that this is to determine whether or not the evening’s look is green lit by jane.

         ‘ the girls have decided to dress me, ’ he says, lowering a pair of upturned palms slowly from his shoulders to his hips. ‘ unfortunately unaware of the effect of horizontal stripes on... ’ he chooses not to finish, but pressed, he’d say, ‘on a wildly chubby individual.’

         ‘ am i presentable? be honest. ’

@adoredlife,  random.

[soulpoor-blog1]

         ‘ thought we might go for a walk, ’ chris greets, soft spoken as ever. his hands are tucked into his front trouser pockets, his posture betraying that he’s unsure of himself  ---  as if such a suggestion is so out of character that yulya will question his motives. he prefers to spend his days indoors, far from people with whom he’s unfamiliar, so this is more than a stone’s throw away from his comfort zone.

she deserves a treat, is why he’s asking. chris owes her for all the good she does him.

         ‘ weather’s pleasant. you know. ’ tilts his chin up, disregarding the ceiling separating them from clear skies. ‘ a walk. what do you say? ’

@deepwcb,  chris.

[soulpoor-blog1]

worldwell.

    Peggy’s attentions are, quite naturally, and quite like normal, caught between both Rafferty and little Warren. She’ll glance Rafferty’s way, of course, just to prove that she is listening, but she’s also quite involved in making sure that her son doesn’t make too much of a mess out of breakfast. He’s at that age, it would seem, where it’s all that interests him. 

        ‘ Your lease? ’ she asks encouragingly as he pauses. Then he offers her something, and continues, and there’s such a smile on her face by the time she’s taken it all in. There’s a pause. She glances from the paper to Rafferty’s face. Has Peggy ever looked so happy before? ‘ Are you asking me to move in with you? ’ 

his face brightens, but only briefly, as he glimpses the breathtaking look on that breathtaking face of hers. the panic kicks back in a beat later, as though his heart stops for peggy and starts again the very moment reality  ---  moving time, as much as he’d like to believe the world stills when they’re together  ---  threatens to make a fool of him.

rafferty pinches his brow, pulls his lips between his teeth, and gazes on like a skittish puppy hoping for an approving scratch behind the ears.

         ‘ i’m making an attempt, ’ he says, followed by a nervous breath of a laugh. ‘ and, i do hope, not a mistake. because i couldn’t bear to  ---  i couldn’t bear to. ’ lose you, of course.

[pscalpedro]

Fuck the small talk. Let’s buy some guns, eh?

Free Fire (2016) Dir. Ben Wheatley

[soulpoor-blog1]

his nerves have been frayed since the sun first peeked through the blinds, hastily and poorly tugged shut in the night, which rafferty deems devilishly unfair.

see  ---  the boy’s been scheming, and the words he and peggy have over breakfast will decide the fate of his scheme: whether it’ll be fed with excitement or squashed with disgust. he’s in the habit of overthinking all, but this stewing thought isn’t quite as minor as its predecessors.

         ‘ my flat. my lease, it... ’ he starts twice false and with a strained, unsteady voice. actions are the go to, in any case, are they not? rafferty pushes a folded newspaper across the table. there’s a block of text circled in red. ‘ i’ve been to see it, this place. it’s nearer to the school. there’s room for a garden and... for, em. for warren to play, a yard. a charming  ---  a lovely yard. ’

@worldwell​,  rafferty.

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rafferty’s quick to notice that the girl is quiet  ---  perhaps overwhelmed by the presence of more than a single stranger, perhaps by the cursed world in which they find themselves living, perhaps quiet by nature. no matter, he improvises with one of many notebooks he keeps on his person, and finds an empty page and a bright-colored pen for a test run.

         ‘ i’m rafferty, ’ he writes, neatly as he can manage. before he turns the book for her to see, he adds a sloppy doodle of a smiling face and, just below, ‘ what shall i call you? ’

@astrificare,  rafferty.

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         ‘ alright. ’ he leads with the firm intonation of someone with a heavy thought, a dangerous suggestion, on the tip of their tongue. it’s moss, however; and moss is baked silly, pink in the cheeks, and struggling to roll from his back to his side on the floor of the treehouse he’d built for his children.

         ‘ alright, ’ again, but this time he’s smiling, offering across the creaky floorboards what remains of the joint he and summer have been sharing. ‘ marshmallows: golden brown or singed?  ---  and do we have any? ’

@scorchskin,  moss.

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alright, everyone’s set! this blog is icon free - it’s more about voice-testing than face-testing! - for the time being. like this for a starter!