#floralglows

[dolliesthouse]

𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 @floralglows / inspired by this plot.

"fuck—do you remember anything from last night?"

[greatdividcs]

closed for @floralglows / based on this

— never. drago is never speechless, never awed by anything a human does in an effort to get away — it all gets terribly grating, after a few centuries of hearing different pleas and begs for mercy — but someone leaving their partner for dead, locking the door behind them, and fleeing... really takes the cake. it's a first, to say the least. he'd slow clap if it weren't for the fact that the only audience member he has for theatrics is currently slumped on the floor, cowering, waiting for him to go ahead and finish him off.

which, he would.

he... probably, would, but to be honest, his partner only had enough time to abandon him like this because drago had been slugging behind a bit, appetite satiated after the last dickhead he drained for blood in the far back room. he's not even still thirsty, really, and sympathy is overpowering him at present. he walks forward, floorboard creaking all the way, lowers into a squat in front of the young man left behind, and cants his head to the right. "...woww. what a jerk." swiping his wrist over his mouth to get rid of the blood (and.. smearing it, all over his face), drago cocks both eyebrows. "you okay?" only about a second passes before he thinks to add: "i'm not really hungry anymore, honestly. i mean, maybe i'll go eat him later, but." he shrugs his shoulders, and proceeds to offer the same bloodied hand out to carmen — not wise, but a genuine extension of kindness, despite it all.

[greatdividcs]

closed for @floralglows.

"i can't do this. i'm not doing this. he's completely insane. i thought he'd be nicer now that he's gay," marina announces this to the entire car, voice loud and pointed, her head turned over her shoulder, seatbelt unbuckling as they speed down the world's most nowhere road in flynn lee's sportscar. before her ex boyfriend from high school can protest it, she's pushing up onto her knees, crawling over the console, and situating herself between birdie and carmen in the middle seat, arms crossed. "happy pride month, flynn. you're still a psycho. and being mean, to three innocent people," this is barked up, whined up, between the seats before she's settling back, her head turning to birdie, her best friend of a decade, who... yes, she is very in love with. they look as beautiful as they've ever looked, and when she crawled back here? — it was a little clumsy, okay. one of her legs is laying over birdie's closest one, and her cheeks are a little red, eyes wide, attention focused solely on them now. she tries to maintain her posture, forces herself to remain pissed at flynn; hopefully, rallying them both against him ( she is nothing if not a shit-stirrer ), but that's harder to do while looking in eyes that she's gotten lost in more times than she can count. "we should kick him out. leave him at a fire-station. you agree, right?"

"what does being gay have to do with being nice, you heinous witch? you're gay as hell and you aren't nice either — why are you on her lap? gay. that's fucking gay, you're gay, gay and mean and crazy, marina. happy pride month to you too. how are you going to kick me out? i'm driving," all of this is barked right back, directed over his shoulder, hands shaking against the wheel. flynn's not sure what she's even so upset about. sure, he'd taught them all a little bit of korean when the road rage took over a couple of minutes ago, but it's not like they crashed. he's driving fine ( he isn't ), he knows the way to his family lake-house ( he's lost ), and everybody in this car is his worst enemy. ( actually, they're his dearest friends. flynn's just not good with people; even his favorite people, not good with them. tonight, they'll be roasting s'mores like this didn't happen. don't tell them, but he's pretty excited for this trip. ) his eyes catch carmen's in the backseat, and for an instant, he feels a beat of terror. do not crawl up here. do not.

[bcrrycakes]

CLOSED FOR @floralglows / cont. from here

there are a lot of reasons why jasper very rarely makes an appearance in his hometown. sutton has never been one of them. if anything, sutton has always been just the opposite ⏤ one of his teammates had gone on a tangent, four beers in, at some post-game party about how home is like a magnet, that it will always pull you back. sutton is his magnet. but he knows he's had a hell of a way of showing it. the occasional like and comment on a tiktok or instagram post. texts on birthdays and christmas. it's easy and so very convenient to blame it all on his schedule, the game, its demands ⏤ and it's not not true, but it doesn't feel like the whole truth. he just doesn't quite know how to articulate what's been holding him back. there's a mix of guilt and relief when he sees he's not the only one with complicated feelings. "sure as hell not here to see my parents," he shakes his head, offers another grin. that's the hardest part about being away. hates how people accuse him of being cagey when he avoids answering questions about his family, or when he gives vague non-answers. because the only person who knows why he fought so hard to get the hell out of this place is sitting right next to him. "i missed you."

[loveshard]

@floralglows sent: 🍷 for a blind date thread

two sips into his iced coffee, caleb was already pretty sure he'd picked the wrong shirt. he'd gone with the midnight blue button-down, because in theory, it looked casual but not too casual, like maybe he hadn't spent ten minutes in the cramped hotel bathroom stuffing his shoulders forward into the mirror to check if the fabric clung too closely to his arms. it had seemed like the right call for a hotel café until the moment his date arrived, and then it occurred to him that his forearms were maybe too much. he briefly considered taking the shirt off entirely and walking shirtless into the next act of the day, but that would require drawing attention. which, according to his sister savannah, was the only thing he seemed programmed to avoid when it mattered most. now it was a little late for any fashion decisions, so he just crossed his arms and pretended he'd always planned to do that, even as the button at his wrist prodded at the edge of circulation. "hey. you made it," he said cheerfully, "is it cool if we just, like, say the hell with it and order dessert first?"

[greatdividcs]

closed for @floralglows

"—no way. you have to change." based on word choice alone, this sounds and looks pretty bad. his wife, half his age visually — not to mention, centuries younger in reality — stands before him in stunning albeit risque apparel, her mid-riff exposed, shoulders bare, clothes tight, and here drago is, shaking his head, pointing to the bedroom door, waving his hand fussily in that direction.

it's not what it sounds like, though.

"do you have to show me up every time? every banquet? every gala? if you don't change, i have to. i need something sexier, now. now, now, now," his hands are thrown in the air as he bulldozes to his closet, which is practically it's own room. he picks up a silk red shirt, makes a face, turns to face riley, holding it up against his chest. "what is this... giving? how do you say it. what is it giving?"

[greatdividcs]

closed starter for @floralglows.

"you need to go."

if you asked kelsey a week ago what he thought he'd say to noah, should he ever get the chance to say anything to him again, it wouldn't be this. and it wouldn't be standing on a beach, shouted over wind that's blowing his hair in every which direction, sneakers dug into the sand, storm crackling overhead, wearing teddy's skin. kelsey's teeth are grit and his fist is clenched, trembling in front of him after having held his palm out to stop him coming any closer. it doesn't work, of course. of course, it doesn't fucking work — as soon as he saw him, noah'd run down the boardwalk steps and charged for him, over rolling sand hills and through pouring rain.

"stop, baby, stop," comes out of him second in scattered breaths, pleading before noah's in front of him but right 'round when he gets so close that it makes him nervous; ten feet, give or take. there's electricity crackling around his fingers still and kelsey backs away, feet stuttering into the roaring shoreline, cold wet rushing past his ankles and sweeping back in. he pales after he hears himself, all at once realizing just how caught he truly is; worse, what it looks like. a faked death, a body swap, with one of their best friends? — having left him, having let him believe he was gone. what does he do? does he explain? he — he's got to get noah away from here, away from him, away and safe. all systems are on alert: "it's not safe here, it's not. you can't fucking — you can't fucking be here."

[greatdividcs]

— closed starter for @floralglows.

all these houses look the same. low-priced, for-rent, on the bad side of town — however you want to describe it, the fact remains: architecturally and by saturation and hue, all of them look exactly the same. it's by this logic that finn's presence on a couch, a couch he doesn't own, inside a house he doesn't rent, can be explained: he mistook it for his own. his house is right next door, and he's only been in it for about a week. that... and there's booze he drowned himself in the night prior, which lingers in his head now as he sits up, temples throbbing and mouth dry. to his credit, he does realize as soon as he looks around, what it is he's done. not so much to his credit, he doesn't react. he just sits there, face blank, eyes scanning the living room of a stranger, and he thinks, oh, i'm probably going to jail today.

that'd be fine.

when he hears footsteps coming, fluttering and stuttering, he keeps his eyes on the ceiling. they're either gonna shoot him or start running, and again, that'd be fine — the way life's been going, lately? he doesn't really care one way or another. three weeks ago, his dad died. three weeks ago, his life both ended and started; now, he's no longer a lab rat. now, he has now idea what he is. "...you should really lock your door. or else, more weird guys might fall asleep on your couch." the doorknobs busted. he doesn't remember breaking it open.