#crxdem

[regancr-blog]

subtle thing

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     INDOLENCE FINDS HER AT THE LAZIEST HOUR. regan finds that the hours often begin to slow by high noon. when the sun is highest in the sky and her bones grow in weight, dragging her feet throughout the entire slytherin dormitory. it isn’t as if she has nothing to do, regan is sure in the deep depths of her mind lies the internship paperwork, history of magic readings as well as her will to care for such trivial matters.

          sundays, as it was and continues to be, are the absolute worst on her productivity.

     now, our pretty bastard’s sunday started out rather unceremoniously. with the usual breakfast in the great hall before the calamity known as regan nam stalked her way down the corridors, startled a few first years, and returned to the dungeons for a beauty nap.

          but now — she was bored and awake and lonely.

          now, she has little reason to do anything else but seek attention.           (affection, the monster wearing her skin is a glutton for it)

     a quick glance over of the common room showed that her undisclosed favorite was nowhere to be seen. an arguably disheartening thought, but regan seldom allows herself to linger too much on a single object of affection. if not for the fact that there were much more about, not to mention the potential risks that come with it. 

    leave herself vulnerable for another? devoted to another? cracked open bare and raw for another to see? completely?

                                                                                                             she’s not stupid.

     as fate would have it (or wouldn’t, in some cases), the common room does house another. and regan wastes no time in making her way over to the third year slouched on the cushy green loveseat. 

    demetrius kwon was in one way or another a friend at the end of the day. given, one that she honestly shouldn’t mess with, but regan often operated on a single path of self destruction that has her abolishing any and all rules and regulations in the face of personal want, even they are ones of her own.

     with practiced ease, she slips behind the couch, lax in leaning over the seat, lithe arms sliding over broad shoulders with an amused hum. “demmy,” regan greets pleasantly enough, casual to an extent while she leans forward further to rest her head against his, arm bending to press her palm to his chest absently.

     “you’re not studying are you? on a sunday?” curious eyes flick over the book; her tongue clicks, tone the slightest bit snide, slightest bit tickled. “did tweedle dee and tweedle dum ditch you?” 

    regan pats his chest lightly, as if both waking him from “sleep mode” and offering her condolences. 

    “can i interest you in playing hero instead? save a three year long relationship?”

                                                                                                            keep me entertained?

— tagging @crxdem​

[crxviolet]

Continued from here

@crxdem

Violet smiled brightly once Dem acknowledged her presence, even calling her his “favourite little sister”.

Her smile faltered however when she realised his attention was not on her, but on her grey cat, who upon seeing the familiar boy also started to squirm in her arms in an attempt to flee into Dem’s waiting embrace. The blonde girl scowled with a huff and playfully punched his arm.

“Why are you always like this!” the girl pouted, remembering how she met the boy for the first time. “Always Cinder over me... and apparently it’s the same for her. You over me.” she mumbled towards her companion and leaned down to be eye level with her cat, poking her tongue out playfully towards the feline before poking the boy right on his ribs, his ticklish spot.

“But I shall let it pass... for now. You look terrible Dem, have you eaten anything?”

[crcai-blog]

honey and honey

@crxdem​:

( ... ) 

the humor in the situation isn’t lost to him. he’d ambled into the common room dragging his feet and filled to the brim with dramatic sighs before flopping over onto a sofa and asking for reminders why he ought not to retire to a life of total isolation in the deep himalayan mountains. he’d ambled into the common room, entirely empty of anticipation for a rise in mood–and the fates had laughed and reminded him that he had better luck than that.

and cai, he supposes, had also reminded him that maybe a life of hermitism ought not to be in the plans just yet.

“you’re the nicest person i know,” he announces, shucking off his glasses to rub at the right lens insistently. deep down, demmy knows he looks a mess in disheveled, un-ironed robes and the ugliest coke-bottle glasses he’s been wearing in lieu of his usual pair (rest in pieces, smashed during dada), but for a second, he thinks (and quite foolishly) that if cai thinks he looks cool, then maybe he looks cool. “the absolute nicest person i know.”

People think his tongue drips of white lies, and maybe they’re right. But for Cai, Cai has never given out anything halfheartedly in his life, words weave out of his mouth as it is. He means what he says and if he doesn’t, he shuts his mouth instead (or says otherwise, really). 

And he thinks Demetrius is cool, almost a tinge of awe emits from his set of orbs as he looks at the other, carefree and loved. Because Cai thinks he has never been loved, and maybe he tries too hard to care for others in hopes of being loved back. Eventually, it became a habit and it became him. 

He smiles weakly, getting busy with fixing a set of  Spectrespecs an underclassman gave to him as a gift. “I’m not that nice” he comments, but he does take what the other has said into account. “But I get that a lot” he adds, rubbing his sleeve against the heavily colored glass that seems to be swirling non-stop. 

He smiles at his work, placing it down against the table and giving his friend his undivided attention. He walks towards him, scooting down in an eye to eye level (but Dem might see Cai  and everything else upside down). “You’re the coolest person I know, so don’t worry--okay?”