#grandstanded

[destinedplace-a]

' come on, kairi, hit me harder. '

@grandstanded  /  finally, someone who believe i can (  be  ) hurt.

It’s hard, to get people not to hold back with her.  Takes convincing and arguing.  They want to treat her gently / want to protect her / the light in her heart screaming to be saved.  They see the love and warmth in her and miss the sharp of her knuckles, her strength.  Even when she shows it, they want to treat her gently.  Protect her.  They don’t think she can endure hurt.  They don’t think she’s strong enough.  They think she will fall apart at the slightest too - hard touch.

(  they forget : she died once already, before a blade met her back.  they forget : she was taken and used and hurt.  they forget : her heart has been split and cracked.  )

And, if she is honest, she would rather be left to fall apart than have another try to save her by doing it in her stead.

But Hayner isn’t like that.  They stare each other down, boxing gloves on both their hands, and he doesn’t point out or stare at the scar on her back, visible past her training clothes, the way the others do.  Doesn’t act shocked at the other scars that grace her body, shocked that such a fragile girl should have ever hurt.  She glares at him past her gloves, tasting blood on her teeth.

He hits her hard and she doesn’t block in time.  Like he knows she can be hurt, and survive it.  She returns the strike, but not as hard as she could have.  When you are used to others holding back, it becomes habit for you, too.

“Come on, Kairi,” he taunts, smirking.  “Hit me harder.”

Her eyes go huge.  HIT ME HARDER.  DON’T YOU HOLD BACK, EITHER.

Her lips curl.  She fakes him out; his gloves raise to defend against the strike she doesn’t make, and she catches him cleanly on the other side of his face — he shouts out as he’s thrown back and hits the ground.  She hears the crack of his nose and heals it even as he falls, eyes going wide with concern and almost apology.  But he’s grinning as he pushes himself back up.

“That’s more like it!”

Her eyes only get wider — but then she smiles, far too sweet for a girl with only half of herself / far too sweet with a girl with blood in her teeth and excited at it.

“Come at me with everything you’ve got,” she says.  He nods, and moves towards her like he thinks she’s strong enough for that, and her heart feels light for the first time in ————

[hyperaon]

kisses him on the cheek its nbd

                  Watching the sun set in Twilight Town’s kinda dumb —— well, when you live here, anyways, and considering the fact that Hayner’s lived here his whole damn life and Seifer’s been here for —— well. It’s senseless, is what it is, but here they are anyways : sitting on the clock tower ( why’s it always the clock tower, anyways ) with their backs against the clock, watching it. Together. He has his arm over Hayner’s shoulders and everything. It’s the sort of sickeningly saccharine bullshit that may as well make teeth rot, enough so that he almost wants to roll his eyes and punch himself in the face —— but he doesn’t.

                              ‘Cause it’s… nice.

                   Their legs stretch out in front of them and bump against the raised ledge since Seifer doesn’t have a death wish like the rest of these idiots and refuses to sit on the ledge, thank you very much, and their thighs are flush with each other and Hayner is tucked fully and securely against his side and it’s —— fuck, it’s nice, okay? Normally they’d be fighting or brawling or getting food or literally anything that’s not THIS, but he’s leaving on another leg of his journey soon ( raijin and fujin were getting insufferable with how much he’d been putting it off and his reluctance to leave is clear as day and isn’t that fucking annoying, knowing that this fuck has such a pull on him, makes him not want to leave a place that isn’t his home and is ) and… he reads a lot, alright? There’s just some bullshit romantic stuff that sounds NICE in theory and… is nice, in practice.

                    The look on Hayner’s face when he suggested it, stilted and strange and not quite willing to finish his sentences ( his face was RED and he knows it was and hates that, too ) made him want to run in the clear opposite direction but —— he didn’t. And waited it out. And was rewarded, clearly, since they’re sitting up here and they’d eaten and they’re watching the fucking sunset together and Hayner’s practically lying on top of him and it’s… relative peace and an utter lack of yelling at each other incessantly is a good change of pace. It is.

                      No use in fighting the day before he leaves, and all.                      It’s also a damn miracle that the geek squad hasn’t interrupted them.                      Small mercies.

                      When Hayner shifts against him, he lifts his arm incrementally to let him to whatever it is he’s about to do —— get another drink or something, probably —— he finds himself surprised against sense and logic and the whole concept of THIS IS YOUR DAMN BOYFRIEND, ALMASY when he feels a kiss against his cheek and a pinch against his side from where Hayner’s arm had been wrapped low around his back and it’s —— it’s fucking ridiculous to be so flustered by everything this guy does and yet. And yet. And fucking yet.

                  ❝ ——— Tch, ❞ he turns his head to face him and there’s a shit eating grin on Hayner’s face and yeah, yeah, laugh it up : Seifer fucking Almasy flushes at the drop of a hat, HAR HAR —— but he can’t quite find it in himself to be annoyed when he’s so damn fond and there’s something grossly soft inside of him at the sight of laughter dancing in his deep brown eyes and. Damn it. Damn it.

                        His hand slips up to cup the back of his head and if Hayner didn’t use a metric ton of hair gel he’d run his fingers through his hair but since it’s fucking impossible to do so, he settles for cupping the back of his head and pulling him in, insistent and insolent, to press their mouths together in an intent kiss. Their noses bump and then slide and he tilts his head belatedly but kisses him with a single minded determination nonetheless, a slight part to his lips but no further and he grins against his mouth, not quite able or willing to suppress the urge, when he feels his hand spasm against his waist.

                   ❝ You missed, blondie, ❞ smugness drips from his tone as he pulls away and squeezes the back of Hayner’s neck and a brief laugh slips as their mouths meet again after a brief, disgruntled noise before Hayner closes the distance again and ——

                         The sun is setting, and he’ll miss him.                         And he doesn’t wanna leave him.

                         Oh, fucking hell.

@grandstanded​ // ♥

[hyperaon]

: /

His phone vibrates in his hands with a small little ding ! ( he’s messing with the pop socket as he often does and crouching against a brick wall and waiting for raijin and fujin to return from getting food / they’re taking about a billion fucking years but if they get what he thinks they’re getting, all’s forgiven ) and he lifts it, squinting at the screen as it lights up.

( SMS : LAMER ) : /

An eyebrow raises then furrows and he slides his beanie back to scratch at his hairline and he tries to parse meaning from the text. Any meaning. Any meaning at all from what he had sent the guy last and what happened IN BETWEEN.

Not that he’s even seen Hayner in ages —— the thought is belatedly strange and ill fitting and he shifts on the balls of his feet, shifting his weight as his legs fall asleep. The longer he looks at the text the more that his irritation builds —— who the fuck just sends a single emoji?

( SMS : SEIFER ) ???( SMS : SEIFER ) use your words, nerd.

( SMS : LAMER ) : /

Fucking hell —— and people say that he’s bad at proper communication. Those people have never had the displeasure of dealing with Hayner fucking Dintch. Or his band of weirdos. ( and he thinks about twilight town in the abstract sense of nostalgia for a home that wasn’t truly his home except for in the places where it is and he thinks of the home they’re searching for and the dreams haunting him and he misses the orange sky / the tram running quietly / the cobble stone streets and he misses —— )

( SMS : SEIFER ) yeah, try again later( SMS : SEIFER ) or don’t, if you’re just gonna keep sending me fucking cryptic emojis

He tucks his phone away in his pocket and his friends finally return and he straightens from his crouch ( knees popping and back arching as he stretches up and up and up ) and he greets them with a smile and a yo.

And when his phone vibrates in his pocket again, he doesn’t check it. He’s got other things that he has to deal with that aren’t a boy and emoji only texts.

@grandstanded // someone tell this boy to use his emotions

[hivemined]

🍉 : which of the four seasons suits my muse best, and why?? + the muse your feeling the most rn       @grandstanded​     /     prompted     /     still accepting !!

summer   most fits olette .   she is made of warmth   &   comfort ,   and a distinct sense of freedom   &   openness runs through her veins   &   pours out of her heart ,   for she does not allow   inhibitions   to place a handicap on her self-expression ,   nor the way she openly expresses endearment toward her loved ones .   often ,   she can be compared to a   balmy midsummer day ;   familiar ,   comfortable ,   brimming with potential   &   yielding fond memories   ———   but there are times where she may be likened more to   blazing hot   weather ,   debatably more forgiving than its polar opposite     (     pun intended     ) ,    but still capable of due damage if   underestimated .   she is not typically quick to anger ,   but when those times come ,   she can leave quite a   sunburn    if her emotions are mishandled .

[ofwaking]

@grandstanded​ replied to your post:      ❝ what!? i’m not a furry! ❞

pictures say otherwise, friendo

❝ ... ❞

[lightmimic]

@grandstanded​​ liked!

“You've got my heart ----- bursting at the seams!”

[hyperaon]

threads their fingers together

                  ❝ Wh ———, ❞ alright, so he has no right to be as shocked as he is, to be honest, and yet. And fucking yet.

                 It’s ——— it’s fucking absurd how such a simple, basic, supposed to be easy gesture causes him to get EMBARRASSED, of all things. Him, Seifer fucking Almasy, embarrassed, because of blondie !! It’s stupid on so many levels, yet here they are, standing side by side and he can feel his face heating in spite of himself and, really, it’s just. The worst. There’s no reason to get embarrassed, considering they’re ——— something. Boyfriends? Ugh. Partners? Wayyyyy too much. Maybe Seifer is just too much of an emotionally idiotic teenager to figure it out ( though boyfriends is really as close as anyone could feasibly get and the moniker is kind of grossly romantic, even if it causes something to warm in his chest, and fuck that thing for softening, by the way. )

                 Still : he finds himself turning shades of red and his head turns and he / stares at Hayner with eyes that are a hair too wide and he kind of wants to eat his fucking hat right now, thanks. This is stupid. This is thoroughly stupid and he’s not sure if he’s more embarrassed by the action or the fact that Hayner’s managed to get ONE UP ON HIM by holding his fucking hand. What the fuck. What the fuck !!

                 ❝ You ———, ❞ gee, Romeo, great spluttering you have going on there. Hat, meet mouth. Hayner looks way too smug considering that he’s turned a light shade of pink, too, and maybe Seifer just wants to shove his hat into Hayner’s mouth instead, if only to get rid of that stupid smug curve of his mouth. There’s a challenge there, there has to be, everything with them os a GODDAMN CHALLENGE which is, admittedly, questionable when it comes to the foundations of a romantic relationship but. Well. That’s just how they work, isn’t it?

                 They fight. They argue. They gripe at each other. And they’re holding hands.

                 WHY IS HE SO FUCKING EMBARRASSED BY HOLDING HANDS?

                 ❝ You’re looking a little overheated there, Seifer, ❞ oh, this little shit.

                 ❝ Shut up, blondie, ❞ the best comeback, obviously. There’s a flash of Hayner’s teeth as his smile widens and he squeezes Seifer’s hand and, god damn it. Motherfucker. This ——— little punk might as well be the death of him. Or maybe his automatic response to all of this, pointless though it is, will be what finally does him in.

                 His mind races and, really. There’s only one way to get a leg up on Hayner getting a leg up on him. So : he squeezes Hayner’s hand and brings it up to his mouth and he might be set on fire as he presses a quick and way too firm kiss against his hand, though really it’s more his wrist because his aim here is fucking terrible, damn it, and the way that Hayner’s eyes widen is so fucking gratifying. And, just for the cherry on top, he tugs him closer and leans down : slotting their mouths together in a brief, also a hair too hard kiss, and. Well. Maybe that was more for him.

                 Then again, kissing each other is something they… both like. Mutually. Hence the probably boyfriends part of their, well. Relationship. So maybe it’s for both of them.

                 ❝ Wow, you’re so ——— ❞ Hayner starts, looking red but sounding way too amused and. Seifer may have miscalculated his counterattack.

                 ❝ Don’t say it, ❞ his voice dips and he tries for threatening but misses it by… a few inches. A few thousand inches, even.

                 ❝ You’re ——— ❞ yeah, that’s definitely laughter in his voice. Which is a nice sound, actually, but not in this situation.

                 ❝ DON’T YOU DARE !! ❞

@grandstanded​ // i don’t think we’ve really stopped chasing each other. i don’t think we’ll ever stop chasing each other.

[lightnull]

“ i’m a bad habit with a bad attitude ”

he sits half sprawled, leaning back onto his hands with his head tipped to the sky and his knees white, feet kicking against the wall of the building that they’re sitting on top of. she sits prim and proper, upright with her ankles crossed and hands upon her lap and fingers knotting together and staring off into the far distance —— she can see the wall surrounding the town, from here. she can see the forest, from here. she can imagine the mansion, from here —— and the contrast between them is stark and absolute and to be expected, she supposes. she assumes.

there is something relaxing about being near him / something calming about being near him / something warm about being near him —— yet something frenetic, too. boiling just beneath the surface. threatening to spill over, always ; it’s him. his energy. the anger always thrashing just beneath his surface.

so she sits in relative silence and he speaks and she listens, quiet and speaking briefly where it seems appropriate and anchored in the here and now —— a frank contrast to the usual. a frank contrast to her norm. yet there’s a sudden lurch in her periphery as he leans forward, bracing his elbows against his knees and staring off into the far distance ( where she once lived ) and there’s self-deprecation clear in his voice and frustration, she thinks, intertwined with resignation? the announcement feels misplaced. odd. random.

i’m a bad habit with a bad attitude.

perhaps she’s reading into this too much.

her gaze turns, slow and stilted and there’s something reluctant and screaming in her as she steps out of her cage and she looks at him and he’s an endless summer and he’s gripping and there’s a distance in his voice and face and eyes and very being, an abrupt shift. a strange shift. a set to his mouth and his brow and the lift of his shoulders and she looks at him and looks at him and looks at him / caught in his gravity.

❝ you have a temper, ❞ unhelpful words, she thinks, for all the truth that they hold —— sometimes what people need isn’t the truth but something nicer and better and gentler but she never learned how / she doesn’t care to learn / and perhaps the problem is her, after all. ( funny, since the problem is always her. ) she looks at him and they’re closer than she remembers or perhaps they’ve been this close since they sat down and the oranges that streak across his face soften him and don’t, all at once —— the gentle severity of the setting sun / the gentle severity of your dearly beloved ghost.

❝ but… ❞ she turns her gaze away from him and follows his off into the distance both near and far and she imagines her cage / her home / the mansion that lays decrepit but for a single room and the cold, cold basement. and she imagines him. and she imagines endless summer days that stretch and stretch and stretch and she closes her eyes and tilts her head and she speaks gently. softly. quietly.  ❝ i don’t think you’re a bad habit. ❞

she feels his gaze on her / and imagines saying : you’re kind and warm and bracing / but the words feel awkward and half formed on her tongue / so she tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at him in a fluid motion / and hopes he understands.

( yet she can’t expect him to / and thinks she’ll tell him later. )

@grandstanded // CURSED SUGGESTIONS. ( accepting )