#p:01

[judesharpe]

@hannahclarkes​

the monotony hit about ten lifetimes ago -- when cognizance settles down like a layer of dust in an empty house, and the memories return like a mere afterthought. certain things bring him back to a brief period: rebranded as vintage or repurposed for the sake of nostalgia. he wears the feeling like a sentimental piece, which all his lives were. he can’t bring anything physical, so he brings the sadness and the pain and all the loose ends he can never tie because he always dies right before he’s about to hit his mid thirties. at first it was a race: do everything as fast as he can because the end is imminent. now it was a chore. he’s not sure where this blessing or curse came from. the memories were always a double edged sword. there were sweeter things he’d have given up the incessant cycle for eons ago, things that slip through his fingers like sand, like a constant reminder that time was hardly ever on his side.

in this life he’s a nobody, but he likes it that way. he’s got a steady job as a mechanic, makes good money, has a half decent social life. could be better, but he’s too preoccupied with trying to revive a retired pantera back to her glory days. again, monotonous, but it’s something. today he’s decided to humor his friends, all the same assholes who he grew up with. they did dumb shit like steal from their parent’s liquor cabinet and drank themselves silly in their dens, skateboard in empty pools, and skip class to spark joints. they technically still do the same things, just in between school and work and dating now. they’re at some acquaintance’s party tonight, and he’s trying not to look too bored as he nurses some shitty drink his friend got him from the liquor table. the music was generic, the people were uninteresting, but his friends wouldn’t let him stay cooped in his garage for another day.

his eyes slid to the last one of their tight knit group, fashionably late with his latest girlfriend to be in tow. he doesn’t pay much attention to her, instead gives a nod to his friend before the formal introductions begin. cameron goes and introduces them all one by one, and it wasn’t until jude’s name was called did he finally lift his gaze to meet hers. he’s got a polite smile on but it fades away, and he can’t help the dumbfounded expression on his face. all it took were her eyes -- that familiar blue that he compared to everything beautiful but could never compare to the real thing. the memories collapse in on him all at once and he remembers the sound of her laugh, the way her touch brought him to his knees, the taste of her lips on his. he blinks, sure that the prolonged silence was made aware by everyone at this point. he opens his mouth to speak but the utter lack of elegance has him looking like a complete asshole. “sorry, yeah, my name's jude. i could have sworn we’ve met before. what did you say your name was, again?” 

[agntgalahadjr]

a concert gone awry

Well, this was definitely something that Eggsy was looking forward too! Never in a million years would he have ever thought he’d be going to an Elton John concert, let alone have a backstage pass.

What happened in Poppy Land was one thing, but this - this was real life - no double agents crossing them, no drug cartel whackos hidden in the boxed seats (not that they knew of). Needless to say that even though Eggsy wasn’t particularly a HUGE fan of Elton, this had to be a night to remember.

Staring at his reflection in the full length mirror of his bedroom, Eggsy swallowed.

“Eggsy, you gonna be out all night, love?” His mum called from the other room. Since Harry was actually physically alive, it would’ve been a little weird to continue living there - even if his heart ached when he thought about it because who was he lying to? No one but himself. Of course he wanted to live there, with Harry. But he had decided to crash in the guest room of his own Kingsman issued home for the time being while his mom had take. The master suite bedroom and Daisy had taken the second biggest room.

As long as they were safe and happy, Eggsy was happy.

“Yeah, mum!” He called back to her with a rather steady smirk forming on his lips. But that still left him with one issue. The bloody hell was he wearing tonight?

After about an hour of deciding, Eggsy finally dressed in something a bit less than formal, even donning a bow tie. It was his downtime, so he didn’t have to wear a suit, but he did end up wearing a nice collar shirt with trousers. He had to look semi-decent.

The arena was - of no surprise to Eggsy - sold out. And of course why wouldn’t it be? This was Elton John after all.

And fuck, were these seats the bloody best in the whole arena.

The queue for the bar to get a fucking martini took about an hour, and it was starting to make Eggsy rock on the back of his Oxfords heels. The drinks were his responsibility, and he didn’t remember what Harry had said because all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss his mentor, yeah, every time he opened his mouth. Just the thought and realization of his feelings, urges, made Eggsy’s brow sweat. He was too busy thinking about Harry to notice the bartender ask him what he wanted. Was this their first date? Like official?

( @mmmgalahad )

[haeinxo]

↠ tell me what to do ↡

Se em semanas atrás, alguém lhe perguntasse em uma conversa casual, qual a sensação de lutar por nada, Haein não conseguiria definir com clareza. Contaria sobre algumas situações parecidas, mas nada que respondesse corretamente a pergunta. Ou nada que seu otimismo não prevalecera até então. Porém, se hoje alguém lhe perguntasse a mesma coisa, em uma conversa causal durante o tempo que estivesse sozinha desfrutando dois cafés frios em uma mesa vazia,  a resposta seria diferente. Uma maré de coisas, problemas, expetativas e até contra o “eu mesmo”, para no final não valer de nada. Essa seria sua resposta, e era exatamente como se sentia agora. Mas a pior parte, é que agora ela conseguia enxergar com extrema clareza, sem tentar fazer com que as coisas fossem do jeito que ela acreditava dentro de sua cabeça. 

Oh Haein sempre tentou ser forte e manter a cabeça erguida, na realidade, fora o que mais fez em sua vida toda. Mas que tornaram-se impossíveis no momento em atravessara a porta do dormitório. Ali ela não precisava ser nada do quê as outras pessoas esperavam que ela fosse e nem manter uma postura que não coincidia como realmente ela se sentia, fingindo estar tudo bem quando na verdade não estava. Não sabia colocar em palavras como se sentia naquele momento, se sentia usada, uma tola por tudo que fizera, ou se todos os sacrifícios foram tempo perdido. Tinha tanto a pensar, mas ao mesmo tempo só queria manter a mente vazia. Tudo isso por um único motivo, um gesto, um nome, que lhe causava borboletas, mas que também lhe dava espinhos. E desmoronou-se no silêncio do quarto. Do jeito que só ela sabia, só ela entendia e encontrava um certo alívio.

Dias se passaram e ela ainda sentia o gosto amargo em sua boca, mas não era do café. Um gosto que parecia ficar mais intenso conforme às horas passavam e nada parecia mudar, apenas a sensação o caos dentro de si. Tentava pensar a todo custo, como faria a sua vida seguir dali em diante, com novas metas e um foco totalmente diferente do que fora até agora. Não podia mudar os acontecimentos e muito menos a cabeça das pessoas, de uma em específico,  mas poderia muito bem tomar mudar seus objetivos e traçar novos rumos. Afinal, estava na universidade… isso, era para isso que estava ali, pra estudar. Contudo, por mais que tentava, não conseguia deixar de pensar em Inho. 

Uma das maneiras que Haein usava para distrair cabeça era caminhar. Seja por onde for, pelo parque, pela cidade ou qualquer lugar que fosse amplo o bastante. Assim ela havia saído várias noites pelo campus, sempre sozinha pois assim conseguia pensar melhor e aproveitar o quê o silêncio tinha a dizer. E em uma ocasião dessas, Oh fez uma pequena viagem à época do colegial e deparou-se como tudo mostrava-se semelhante. Em ambas as situações, ela era a culpada, mas Inho também era, acabando sempre por deixa-la num beco sem saída. Uma controvérsia, pois ao mesmo tempo que jurava conhece-lo, no fundo não o reconhecia. 

Depois de muito tempo sozinha, era a hora de procurar a forma mais popular para se desligar do mundo no meio dos bares agitados que a vida universitária pode oferecer. A grande vantagem, senão a maior, era o fato de que nenhuma das pessoas com quem iria sabia da história, e assim pouparia questionamentos, discursos ou qualquer outra coisa que a impedisse de aproveitar a noite. O relógio apontava duas e meia em ponto quando Haein decidiu que chegara ao seu limite e precisava ir para o apartamento. Como a maioria encontrava-se bêbada demais para raciocinar, decidiu seguir sozinha e começou a se arrepender de não ter colocado um sapato sem salto. 

Por não ser um lugar muito próximo da universidade, as duas ou três formas de chegar não eram lá tão acessíveis; ruas estreitas e lugares mais escuros fizeram seus ombros encolherem não apenas pelo ar gelado da madrugada. E foi quando viu um grupo de homens parados a 30 metros a sua frente, que sentiu um arrepio na espinha, logo começando a desacelerar os passos. Não tinha como escapar, aquele era a única rua que deveria passar sem se perder, e também já estava quase perto da universidade. Apertou os passos conforme foi se aproximando, tentando manter a postura no exato momento que estava passando, quando escuta a provocação vinda de um deles. Haein não hesitou e continuou caminhando como se nada tivesse acontecido, mas não foi o suficiente. Um cara alto e de cabelos escuros parou em sua frente, impedindo a passagem e por questão de centímetros não encostara em seu corpo. Automaticamente recuou, dando dois passos pra trás e não baixou a guarda por mais que estivesse tremendo por dentro. Seu medo não era por estar perto de caras perigosos, mas sim pelo o quê eles poderiam fazer na situação que ela se encontrava. ‘’Me deixe passar.’’ A voz áspera claramente denunciava o choro reprimido e antes que fizesse qualquer movimento, o homem fora mais rápido e agarrou o seu braço, deixando-a completamente vulnerável agora.

[ontheroadanderson]

Starting out on a Journey.

Admittedly, Blaine wasn’t overly pleased with what Sebastian had planned for them both. He’d been so convinced that they were heading to LAX, that in just a few hours he’d be at home with his fiance, that he hadn’t seen Sebastian’s deception coming at all. Of course, he’d received an earful from Kurt when he called to break the news to him, holding the phone at arms length as Kurt ranted and raved about all the things that he was having to push back because of Sebastian’s insensitivity. After a while, he hung up, making a mental promise to himself that he’d call him back later, once Kurt had had time to cool off a little.

Settling back in his seat, Blaine reached forward and adjusted the radio to something that they could both listen to whilst on the road. He turned his head slightly, glancing at his friend - not entirely sure whether he should still be calling him that right now - and sighed, figuring that he should at least make the best of a bad situation. “So what on earth possessed you to plan all this?” he asked him, tilting his head to the side as he waited for some sort of response from him, “I mean, I’d have thought you of all would have preferred the convenience that a plane has to offer.” 

[byevalentina-blog]

Another dinner party with one of the Santos’ business partners was nothing new, but the excessive planning that had gone into this particular dinner was a bit out of the ordinary. It was true that lots of preparation went into each one, but Valentina’s parents had never been so fussy about her presence. Often times, they just stressed that she had to be polite, look nice, and keep quiet aside from formalities. But no — this was different. For one, her mother had been reminding her to enunciate her words and brush up on conversation topics. More notably, though, she and her mother had spent the entire day in the nail salon, at the hair stylist, and browsing through the racks at Bloomingdales. By the time she returned to the family’s penthouse she was dressed to the nines. Everything down to her last strand of hair was perfectly in place.

It was definitely strange to Val that her parents, and mother in particular, were fretting so much over her, she couldn’t get a proper response out of her parents as to why she seemed to be such an important part of the dinner. “I’m not a child anymore,” she had tried to reason with her mother through the changing room door earlier in the day. Her parents still seemed to think otherwise, though. Her mother made this very clear when the other family finally entered the penthouse, greeted by her father as her mother fixed Valentina’s hair and smoothed a wrinkle out of her skirt. Her father soon entered the living room where she and her mother waited, with who she assumed to be his business partner and wife trailing behind him. After exchanging polite greetings, introductions, and handshakes, the five of them proceeded to sit. “Kellan should be here any minute now,” the woman assured with a smile directed at Valentina. Her eyebrows furrowed a little, and despite the look her own mother was giving her, she asked what was on her mind. “I’m sorry, who?”

[bilalbaqri]

Bilal couldn’t wipe the fond smile from his face, whether he liked it or not. It was just instinctive, whenever he was with Micah. Even then, after a long night at the bar, after witnessing his innocence and inexperience with flirting and guys in general. It was just endearing and he couldn’t help the swell of his chest as he looked over at the boy in his passenger seat. He was glad that he put aside a night to hang out with Micah without worrying about Ama. Though he missed her, it was nice being with the boy. He had come to really care about him. If he could, he’d spend all day with Micah, even if they were just sitting together in silence. He relaxed him, made things easier and freer. He just enjoyed being in his presence, even if it was just friendship. He couldn’t subject Micah to anything more, he didn’t deserve the baggage. As he pulled into the driveway Micah’s family had designated just for him, he glanced over at Micah. “Okay babe?” He asked, turning the engine off and unbuckling his seatbelt. “Stay there yeah? I’ll help you out” Bilal mumbled, getting out of the car and heading straight to Micah’s side to help him out. After opening the door, he reached over him to unbuckle his seat belt before carefully easing him out of the car, his hand coming to rest on the frame to cushion his head in case Micah moved too swiftly. “Alright then?”

[ncver]

Under the Cross Bar

“If Danny buys sixty-four candy bars and he eats forty-two, how many does he have left?” “Diabetes.” There’s a dead beat silence, despite the ambiance of the casua l restaurant. Regardless, Theo is stuck in his business attire, having had just picked up Isabella from school. “What’s diabettys?” Isabella asks, her head tilted as she looks up at her dad, away from the first grade math homework she’s got in front of her against the wooden table. Theo’s gaze from the newest proposal his company had for him is set down as he laughs softly, turning to his 5, nearly 6, year old daughter.

“Diabetes, sweetheart.” “Diabetes.” Isabella tries again before she’s quick to quip yet again. “What’s that?” “It’s when you eat too much candy. Like Danny for example.” Isabella takes that moment to look down at her paper and suddenly she’s all wide eyed as she’s staring up at her dad. It’s honestly a miracle that Theo doesn’t burst out in laughter over how amusing his daughters facial expressions were. “I will never eat that many candies.” “Really?” Theo asks with an eyebrow raised. “Not even on Halloween?” Isabella stops and really thinks about her decision before she raises her shoulders in a shrug. “Maybe there can be a expetition?” “Do you mean exception?” Isabella rolls her eyes and groans before Theo laughs yet again, leaning over and kissing his daughters temple. “C’mon, then. You’re nearly finished with your homework.” “I’m going, I’m going.” 

[caillinjfc-blog]

 let’s devour the w o r l d, darling;

—There had always been a nameless, thrumming current underlying Caillin and Holden’s relationship; something all consuming that gave the headstrong brunette a further passion— or purpose rather, than what the often two dimensional life the Washington town of Twin Peaks had to offer. It was barely detectable, maybe a murmur in the background, something like the incoherent words filtered between the static of a radio– but she learned to recognize it in every harmless brush of hands, and endless night ride in the boy’s classic car, that often had an inclination to break down. It was an untouchable, giddy, low burn superiority that no one could possibly grasp the way suburban deities such as themselves could; but only while by each others side. 

Before Holden had stepped into the diner she worked in, and into her life subsequently, Caillin consisted almost solely of over caffeinated studying, fingertips smudged electric neon from highlighted notes for AP classes and practiced smiles for rude customers ( if she spit into a milkshake or two behind the counter well, no one had to know). Of course she still consisted of the latter, but now with a further potency with Holden’s sharp edged humor and charm as company. While the boy didn’t bring out the best in Caillin, he managed to draw out the most, something that tested her at times but in the most rewarding way possible. The constant promise of intrigue draped in a leather jacket, a sinister reprieve that if the no where town of Twin Peaks were Eden, Caillin wasn’t sure if Holden were the apple, or the snake himself– but god, she was delighted to be damned by his side regardless. Or at least that’s what she’d convinced herself of, there was never much room for debate after the brunette set her mind to something.

 Caillin’s dilated eyes peered in a detached fascination at the looming forest that barricaded the familiar road they roared past in the night. The heavy fall of rain and angry tremble of thunder a pulse that caused a nervousness to itch at the edges of the vibrant high Caillin had managed to achieve at the party. It had been nothing but a cesspool of spilled drinks and terrible music, but it had been something to do which was a feat in itself around here. She remembers being passed a poorly rolled joint in the basement and the dazed hunt to find Holden in the sea of people crammed in the small lake front house. She recalls the burn of jealousy that consumed her when she noticed a few girls hanging onto every word of some charming story the brunet was retelling, and the suggestive words she’d murmured in his ear to get them out of there– and more importantly him away from the tall blonde he’d been closest too. They’d made it as far as the front seat of the vintage car. Hands fumbling on zippers, all teeth and force and hitched breath before an abrupt tap on the window alerted them of a trashed Laura Palmer who’d leaned heavily against the frame of the vehicle, begging for a ride home. Caillin could still feel the sigh of disappointment sitting bitterly in the back of her throat. 

The radio jolted between stations in an unsettling way that had the bite of paranoia beginning to stick to Caillin’s skin. The reception in town was always a little spotty for whatever reason, something everyone in Twin Peaks begrudgingly tolerated and the weather wasn’t much of a current help to that either. With feet rest languidly on the dashboard (something she’d been reprimanded for constantly), Caillin reaches gracelessly over to Holden, snagging the pack of cigarettes from his jacket in hopes to soothe her nerves. “Mind if i take one?” She murmurs softly over the rain and the sound of Laura’s senseless chatter they’d both been pointedly ignoring for the duration of the ride. Her doe eyes blearily catch sight of one of Holden’s fathers’ campaign signs sticking up from the side of the road, but it’s gone in an instant as the car flies past. She grins fondly behind the cigarette tucked between her lips, recalling when they’d first popped up around town how she reassured Holden over some cheap beer that yes, his father looked like an asshole in the photograph. She lights the cigarette with jittery hands as the radio switches nervously between classic rock and something slow and sultry, like the song of a siren dripping from the speakers. “Fuck,” She croaks distantly after her first drag, catching sight of the time on the dashboard. “I’m gonna miss curfew for the second time this week they’re gonna kill me– there’s no way they’ll let me drive out to the concert with you next weekend I can’t believe I let you buy the tickets before I even asked, i’m probably– jesus christ I still have to start my physics project, and– fuck i’m so high right now they’ll probably catch me as soon as I walk through the door and-” Caillin babbles on defeatedly before glancing at Holden’s profile, the weak light from the moon streaming through the windshield to caress the edges of his features, and to this day the brunette was still at times caught off guard by how beautiful he was. “– they’ll put like, bars on my windows, maybe an ankle monitor. This honestly might be the last time you see me.” Caillin takes a heavier inhale from the cigarette, the car air turning bitter, but she figured he might prefer it to the chance of rain getting on the leather seats if she rolled down a window. 

It happened suddenly, like a flash of lighting, blinding and tragically beautiful. When the fall from grace, from sanity took place and the ties to human morality began to fray between the two obsessive lovers. A figure illuminated by the burning glow of headlights, the sound of the collision,  shriek of tires stopping too late on the wet tar road. These are the things Caillin remembers forever, the blood that stains her hands no matter how many times she washes them raw. The shock and the ragged breathing, clutching to the strap of the seat belt hysterically. “Holden.” Her voice is foreign and desperate in her own ears as her eyes lock on the lump in the road a few yards behind them from the view of the mirror. “Do you– do you think they’re…?” She trails off in sickening fear before allowing herself to finally look at the boy sat beside her.