#orangepeelr

[lcvemaz-a]

@orangepeelr​

“hand measuring contest, let’s go.” palm up. looks for any excuse, this one.

[lcvemaz-a]

“ are you sure you’re not hiding wings and a halo around here somewhere? ”

"if you're looking to borrow, best go to chris' house." so much goodness overflowing from that boy he probably was granted a spare set. "i'm completely out of the running."

[interxstitial]

@orangepeelr sent: “ since when does that matter? (for jiwon’s second verse 🤭 SPICE EM UP SPICE EM UP KJDHFKSJDF) ”

questioning minds starters: ACCEPTING!

“since my therapist said so,” is the short and sweet answer. truthfully, jiwon could speak at length about the laundry list of safety precautions he’d agreed to follow by signing a contract (not keeping bleach in the home being one of those measures), but he’s bothered logan enough already. there are worse things in life than choking on the sweet, sharp scent of citrus from overpriced, organic cleaning agents. admittedly the smell is a bit clinical. jiwon even draws the blanket cocooned around him closer to inhale the much gentler aroma of lavender fabric softener. it’s nearly soothing enough to forget the fact that he’s been curled up in his bathtub for the past two hours.

nose red and eyes rubbed raw, jiwon shifts his weight a bit to ease the ache in his back. like an anvil in his lap, jiwon’s phone is still warm from his 47-minute call with logan. this still feels a bit unreal, like the comforting presence of his friend cramped into the other end of the tub is just another part of his episode. (and even if it is, at least he has a familiar face to latch onto.)

“you really didn’t see anything?” jiwon asks, shifting gears. if he weren’t clutching the blanket in a death grip, his fingers would be trembling. the back of his neck feels cold and clammy, sore, like a hand has been squeezing there all day. “not in the picture i sent you? not when you checked for real? you didn’t see someone leaving when you got here? are you sure?”

[lcvemaz-a]

“you hog the blankets, you know.” (for either tris or laurence! whichever of the lads ur feelin more <3)

oh he knows. let him live. particularly in the comfort he's always known. further wrapping of duvet to emphasis. "if you want them, come and get some." fair warning: that would be no easy task.

[lcvemaz-a]

[ ADJUST ] : sender adjusts an item of clothing or jewellery that the receiver is wearing, resulting in them being very close together. (for laurence <3)

the stylist had been a little careless in pinning brooch over itself, mind occupied with one too many thoughts or so it seemed as they rushed off toward another. laurence was left to struggle with an unruly clasp. digits pass over his own to fix the positioning, eyes lifting to find his mark. "how good you are to me." someone's at risk of the handholding again.

[lcvemaz-a]

[ SMILE ] : sender lights up with a bright smile upon seeing the receiver enter the room. (for tris <3)

there's no way he's out here looking his best. not after a five hour dance practice and rehearsal shoved together in available timeslots. "why are you looking at me like that?" his hair feels excessively heavy against his forehead. subtly, subconsciously most of all he settles back just an inch into the depth of his hood.

[lcvemaz-a]

❝I don’t like the way they’re looking at you ❞ (for tris!)

"huh? who's been-?" slight swivel of upper body to attempt a better look toward whoever logan had been referring to, but no one particularly stands out. until one does, and tris is left blinking at cognizance. he hadn't realised, and now he's feeling self-conscious - from two sides of the table. he pulls his attention back to his date. hopes to ease back into whatever piece of conversation they had been having before observation is struck aloud.

[interxstitial]

@orangepeelr sent: “spare 14 perhaps 🤲”

secret image starters: ACCEPTING!         you chose... this!

the city is beautiful when the sun descends into the shore of skyscrapers. rays of marigold roll through the streets in waves, dousing people and cars alike in golden tones. even the typically cold brown-brick apartments exude a welcoming warmth in this mysterious interlude between day and night. when viewed from the rooftops, passersby shrink into pebbles made smooth by the ocean’s rhythmic caress, and sparse patches of green liken themselves more to sprouting kelp between copses of coral. seldom has the brooklyn skyline looked so worthy of every romantic author’s most lofty dreams, and it’s a shame jiwon can’t see any of it.

even before stepping through the door leading to the rooftop, jiwon had kept his eyes shut like a vice. blindly, he’d whined and complained as logan led him closer and closer to the cliff of certain death. after a painstakingly slow and complicated mess of instructions which jiwon claimed to be horrendously non-specific, they finally found themselves sat on the edge of the roof, feet dangling some horrific number of storeys above the street. jiwon’s only saving grace is the railing spanning the perimeter, with gaps wide enough to slip his legs through but sturdy enough to withstand the terrified trembling of a fully grown adult with a fear of heights. hell is empty, and the devil himself is sat right beside jiwon.

“can you, like, hold my hand so i can vomit into it?”