#017.

[obligatorial]

"Do you feel any differently this time?" Melissa murmured to Gavin, voice barely over a whisper to the point she was forced to stand impossibly close to him out of fear of being heard. Under the dimmed lights of the vault, one could almost mistake it for a private chamber of another sort, silent except for the occasional rhythmic breathing of one of her fellow colleagues being asleep.

Not Melissa - not the secretary; even if her body ached in a way she had never experienced before and a dull, continuous pain irradiated from her lower back. The brunette remained kneeling on the floor, facing her captor attentively - he looked different without the wig used to pretend to be someone else. With sunglasses and fake hair gone, there was a sincerity in his eyes that had been growing more and more intense over their shared hours.

"About prison, I mean. Do you think we will make it?" the question went out before she could process it properly, gaze lingering at his mouth - only to realize what she had been doing and to tilt her head back up, staring back into his eyes, "All of us?"

— from @stingslikeabee, unprompted.

Gavin's voice was soft, but not any less incredulous as he looked down at Melissa's face. "'All of us'?"

He couldn't lie-- the question made his heart flutter. He'd already told her the plan his sibling cooked up, that they were hoping to take all their hostages, including the "corpse" that Melissa had become, but the story always ended with goodbye.

Do you think all of us will make it? implied Melissa would stay even beyond their hypothetically successful escape. The thought of having her for longer thrilled him like nothing else, so much so that he had to swallow the joyous noise bubbling up his throat.

What a world it'd be if she chose him, in the end.

"The plan makes sense," he said then, which wasn't much of an answer, but was all he could give. "The only thing missing now is whether the cops'll hold up their end of the bargain.

"Are you worried?" Delicately (because Melissa was already hurt, because she wasn't supposed to be hurt, because she told everyone Gavin wasn't a monster and meant it all the same), his fingers tucked the few locks of hair out of place behind Melissa's ear. "You don't have to be. I'll protect you no matter what."

[resuelta]

magnolia castillo edits (  mutuals may reblog  )

❝   i’m not strong.  i broke.  i didn’t survive anything i just...didn’t die.  they broke me,  emil.  and i can’t get those pieces back.  ❞

[gudakesa-blog]

@vaikartana

     It had been weeks and countless flowers had joined them -- breathtaking reds and golds and oranges, vibrant colors of the sun, all of them cared for so dearly that their previously dreary lobby had come to be so alive. Though it was only natural for them to flourish under Karna’s giving hand. There were times when in passing and alone Arjuna’d wanted to reach out and tear through each soft and budding flower to justify the stillness in his heart. But he wouldn’t.

     ( He couldn’t forget no matter how much he tried, just how tender the petals smiled as the sun flitted through the curtains. )

     No, he’d gradually learned that the silence he’d desired more than anything between them had become unbearable. The emptiness mocked him, as if it were only waiting for one of them to cross a line, to speak through stuttering breath and disgrace.

    When he finally couldn’t take another day, however; Arjuna stood and watched the back that faced him as it caressed and tended to new saplings like sons. Karna.

    “Why... haven’t you said anything?” He braced himself to control his impulse, to not sound like a little brother who’d been neglected. Always whining, always demanding. This Arjuna needn’t be reminded that he was to act as a hero should; he’d only need more resolution.

[canoncompliance]

@zettabytezealot sent: [ expect ] sender sticks out a hand, palm up, waiting for receiver to give them the item they want. This is funny either way AND regardless of lylas corporeality look ma I'm a genius

Usually Lyla's happier to see him when he gets home. Standing there, his mask in hand, Miguel raises a brow at her.

"You know I need a terminal to read your mind."

His gaze flicks, however briefly, to her outstretched hand, then moves back up to her face. "...what is it?"

[silkhcney]

complaining

I would say I do complain a lot, but there are times that I am more reasonable and am able to look on the bright side. I consider myself to be a realist, but there are times I am more of a cynic and times I am more of an optimist. I complain about all sorts of things, which I credit mostly to me going through my teenage years. I complain about school, relationships, just life in general. I know there is no point, but I can't help it. To me, it's kind of like venting. However, just because complaining doesn't help me, I also don't think I would be happier if I didn't complain. I complain to cope with things.

[wes2soft-blog]

( * TEXT → princesa.

wes: baby AHHH

wes: i'm so happy

wes: have u seen all the tweets and stuff about hallelujah??

wes: people really like it :))))

[vicemirrored-a]

017

You're one of those mutuals that I've been staring at for months, trying to figure out how to approach. I love seeing you on my dash, whether it's with hilarious crack asks about fish or with your lovely writing. One day, I promise, I'll get over my nerves and approach you, because I definitely want to thread. If you have any plot ideas, don't hesitate to come to me! I'm so open to plotting with you. 

[kingoftheravensarchive]

At the top of the stairs you see the cat's bottle-brush tail, silvery and so-silky looking the brighter light of the higher parts of the house, disappear around the previously ignored corridor. There is now a scent like cinnamon and vanilla curling through the house. The feeling of unease lifts considerably as you exit the stairway.

Now Unicorn really did breathe a sigh of relief, but this was short-lived since he was intent upon following the cat, keeping that shock of silver in his gaze. There were far too many questions racing through his mind, like why those rooms downstairs made him feel so uneasy, why this cat was… the way it was, and why he was even there in the first place. But he knew he could voice them aloud and not be given an answer. 

So he followed the cat willingly, walking as quickly as possible through that corridor, barely glancing at his surroundings as he moved.