#ft. damien

[byungris]

*      “  no pises ahí.  ”   /   @scng​  ,  @mvries​ .

“  oh.  ”  no había necesidad de decirlo, antes de poder poner siquiera un pie encima, yuri alcanza a esquivar el charco de lodo que hay justo en el suelo por donde camina. no parecía un sitio muy seguro después de todo, ¿huh? está seguro de que esta cueva genera muchos resbalones en los turistas.  “  ¿donde están las medidas de seguridad pertinentes? cualquiera podría caer. ”  manifiesta, casi pareciendo una queja. 

[sxsxsydney]

is it weird for your nephew to be an original vampire?

“Weird? No. Complicated, possibly. That boy is my sister’s child, he will always be my nephew regardless of who his father is.” A pause, “At any rate, while we may not trust each other Lorcan and I don’t have any current grievances. For Damien’s sake I plan on keeping it that way and I would hope Lorcan would do the same.

I take family very seriously.”

@damienryan , @nctgold

[bcketts]

starer for @virifortissimi​

⇥ LOCATION: campus grounds

– SHE’S BOOKING IT ACROSS THE GROUNDS THE SECOND SHE SEES HIM. he’s one of the few familiar faces ( on the gallagher side ) on campus, and she doesn’t waste time trying to catch up with him, heart pounding in her chest. she touches his arm gently, “thank god you’re alright,” she says before pulling him close – it’s more for herself than for him, the comfort of knowing someone is real by making sure that they’re tangible. after all, there are quite a few people in her life who are no longer tangible. “sorry,” she pulls away quickly, not sure whether to be embarrassed by her own vulnerability. “how was your briefing last week ? they won’t tell us much. did you know...?” ‘her’ ? she leaves that word out, but she speaks fast, jumbled, as if she talks enough she’ll finally say the right thing, but nothing calms her quickly beating heart. 

[civeln]

[picnic]: para encontrarte a mi musa solx, en medio de un picnic. ft. @damienwho​

          Da una mordida al pan dulce y manteniendo este aún en su boca, levanta la mirada al sentir presencia ajena, levanta diestra para saludar  ❝ No puedo invitarte a mi picnic, porque no deje que Dae se sentara ❞ expresa encogiéndose de hombros  ❝ ¿Qué clase de hermano sería si no dejo que él se sentara, pero a ti si? ❞ mueve su cabeza, toma luego una caja que se encuentra sobre el mantel y la extiende  ❝ Pero puedo darte una galleta. ❞  

[aleklss]

‘ ¿por qué esa cara? ¿no te gusta tu disfraz? ’ ( @damienwho​ )

risa se escapa de inmediato cuando escucha interrogantes, sacudiendo su cabeza en una negativa. ‘  fue mi idea.  ’  confiesa, terminando de acomodarse el disfraz. mientras tanto, aimée está con su propio disfraz correteando cerca de ambos. ‘  lo único que me arrepiento es el calor que está haciendo.  ’

[abneyalx]

‘ ¿por qué todo es tan rosa? ’ ( @damienwho​ )

pequeña y campaneante risa se escapa de sus labios como respuesta inicial, extendiendo en dirección contraria un algodón de azúcar rosa. ‘  porque todo en color rosa se ve más bonito.  ’  responde como si aquello fuese obvio, pagando al vendedor por los dos productos antes de dedicar toda su atención al mayor. ‘  recuerdo haber escuchado también que tiene algo que ver con la teoría del color, pero te mentiría si dijera algo más.  ’

[wickederis]

location: renegade gym with: @damianrivera​

She had always been more of a running type of girl gaining satisfaction from the slapping of the soles of her shoes on the pavement. Feeling the wind blow around her and feeling nothing but the rhythm of her breathing to clear her mind. Except lately she’d needed something more and had figured the sole gym in town might have something to offer. In her younger years heading to a gym had been a luxery she hadn’t been able to afford but now, it wasn’t going to hurt her. She was lean but toned she was not and if she was going to start spending time in here she needed some help from someone who actually knew what they were doing.

Stepping inside though she walked up to the front desk and got signed in, asking to speak with a trainer because might as well hire someone. If she was relying on her own skill she’d spend about ten minutes doing arm curls because she’d seen someone do it on tv and call it day. Much to her surprise when the receptionist came back with the trainer, she doubted this was going to go well. “Your receptionist here said you’re taking on clients?”

[kristie-rp]

Jackson & Damien: Detention

“Ugh,” said the guy in the heavy black getup. Jackson looked up at him, distracted from picking at the calluses on his fingers, to find himself being stared at. “What did you even do, Hollywood? I didn’t think people like you got detention.”

Jackson thought about it for a moment, about the hum in his veins as his guitar tutor smashed his guitar to pieces, and then came to his senses too late to stop it. About how he’d accused Jackson of making him do it. None of this would have happened, he thought, if he took to guitar as easily as he took to piano and violin and drums. “Tried to learn guitar,” he said, cryptically. He probably deserved the look he got for it.

“What does that even mean,” the goth kid asked. It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.

If it had been a question, Jackson couldn’t really have answered honestly. I compelled Liam to smash his $1,500 Gibson would sound stupid, even if it were the truth. “I’m getting blamed for Liam’s guitar getting broken,” he said after hesitating probably too long.

Goth guy stared at him some more, processing. Jackson had no way of knowing what the guy was thinking, though he did wish he’d been paying attention earlier. He was sure goth guy had a name – probably a D name. Darren, maybe. Danny? “You smashed the guys guitar?”

“Sure,” Jackson agreed, not a little guilty. He was too confused for that. Who compels a guy to smash a guitar without so much as lifting a finger? Him, apparently. Somehow. God, he needed to think of absolutely anything else. “Why’d you call me Hollywood?”

Goth guy snorted. “You’re famous, or your old man is, or some bullshit. I can’t believe you smashed his guitar. What’d he do to deserve that?”

“He was being unreasonable,” Jackson said diplomatically. He did not mention that Liam had insulted his mothers music, though the idiot of course hadn’t known Kiri Kaufman was Jackson’s mom. It wasn’t like it was highly publicized or anything.

Oh, wait. It was exactly like that.

“So I made sure it broke.” As an unintentional joke. Christ, how did that make sense? You’re worth about as much as the splinters that guitar would make, so why don’t you do us both a favour and smash it. “ I’m not famous. My mom’s famous. Kiri Kaufman. She does opera. Dad does grunge. Travis Masters.”

The first name clearly didn’t mean anything to goth guy, but the second did. His eyes went wide, and his chair thudded down off its’ back legs, onto the floor as it was meant to be. “Your dad is Travis Masters? As in, Once In a Hellscape Travis Masters?”

“That’s his second favourite of his albums,” Jackson said after letting the question hang between them. “Second favourite is the one he did with mom doing backing, Adelaide. The one he did right after he met his wife.”

“How’s that work, then,” goth guy asked, evidently fascinated. “You go to school here when your dad’s a, what, billionaire?”

“He’s not that rich,” Jackson said feebly, thinking of the three homes with more than enough room for his four kids, including Jackson, plus a small toy store worth of entertainment for the ones younger than him, all with studios, studies and guest rooms galore. Jackson mostly lived with his mums sister, Hannah, with both his parents swanning in and out of his life on a whim, paying for Hannah’s mortgage and shoving money at him for more music, more hobbies, more fun. His only responsibility was school, his only commitment was music. “Besides, the music is more important than the money,” he said, like it was the final thing to be said.

Goth guy – maybe Danny – stared at him for long enough for Jackson to relax. No one stared that long who had something to say, he thought. And then: “And yet you still smashed the shit out of Liam’s guitar.”

Jackson stared back for a moment, before, finally, laughing, a brief huff of relief. “Yeah, I did.”

(When the teacher came back, expecting to have to track down Damien for being a brat and ditching detention, she was surprised to find Jackson and Damien face to face, each of them straddling a chair and laughing along at something she’d missed. The two were laughing like friends, and she was immediately worried. Jackson could get away with murder, and Damien was quietly voted most likely to drop out and ruin his life by the staff.

Fuck, the teacher thought, shepherding them out of the room as quickly as she could. The principal would need to be warned.)