#philip evans

[buddha-arena]

Hand built vessel by Philip Evans (approximately 3.5 x 2.5 in.)

[minibetta]

I love this team.

[youre-pretty-gay]

You Have a Pretty (Gay) Soul [Ch. One]

Ryan received his Soul Markings after a first week in his sophomore year of high school, and it didn’t help his studies when all he could think about was that his for forever mate, his other half, his soul mate, was in the same building as he was, or at least, he hoped.

At first it was so intriguing to look at the silvery crescent shape on the back of his hand but after awhile, he started hiding it with a pair of fingerless gloves, acutely becoming aware of how personal and intimate the mark would become to mean to him. He couldn’t comprehend the idea of how the girls in his class could flaunt their marks to their classmates in such an obvious pride.

When Ryan first got his mark he ran straight to his mother who took his hand and looked down at it with a smile. He was scared she wouldn’t be accepting because 13 was still a young age to get the markings. There were many seniors without them, and even some of his father’s work friends didn’t even have them. The thought scared Ryan at first - knowing that there wouldn’t be someone who could make you happy in only the way that one special person could. It’s not like two unmarked people couldn’t go out or get married, it was just.. refreshing to know that there was someone out there who was specifically meant for him.

It wasn’t until the next morning he noticed the mark on his hand because the burning was so intense that his mother let him stay home and keep a wet washcloth on it. But now… He wish he never received it in the first place. Not only did the Receiving hurt his hand for the next few days (there was still a numb stinging sensation on his hand at times), but he was constantly regretting everything he did. What if they didn’t like his personality, or the way he dressed, or how he ate his food, or worse, what if they didn’t like his blond hair? What if him and his match don’t get along at all?

It takes him a long time to start paying attention in class and by the time he started working on his notes, the bell for lunch sounded throughout the school building.

—

It should be easier than this. Why can’t it be easier?

Ryan spent the rest of his lunch period scanning the cafeteria, looking over people he thinks he’s made contact with in the past two weeks. The only person he knows that has a mark is Philip Evans, Emily Heller, and Ashley Chang.

Ashley was a Korean-American exchang student in her freshmen year. After she heard word of Ryan’s Recieving, she immediately approached the blond and stared asking about it. Ryan wasn’t at all embarrased to tell her, though, because she had recently got hers, and she was probably just making sure that they weren’t matched. Actually, he knew instantly that it wasn’t her. It’s not that he didn’t think she was crazy hot (because she was), it was the fact that his friend Emily came to talk to him, and he found that fate had paired the two girls together.

Philip, though, was a freshmen that year too, but they never really talked. The boy just started having a panic attack during the middle of lunch one day, and they had to rush him to the nurse. Rumor spread that he was in the middle of his Receiving and was sent home for the rest of the day and the next.

Ryan was still waiting impatiently, glancing around the cafeteria to find his perfect girl. It was only wishful thinking, but Ryan really wanted her to look pretty, or have some nice traits about her but he was too nervous to outright talk about his Mark. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to get made fun of because of the sign that they were given. He stayed there, tapping his foot until the bell rang for the forty minute lunch to be over and he got up and rushed out of the room, speed walking past the men’s restrooms. A gasp came from within and Ryan stopped for a second, forcing himself to believe it was just two jocks messing around and writing and pissing on the stalls (what the hell is wrong with high school?).

He knows he should have stayed out of it, but once he stuck his head into the restroom, he was right. It was a jock messing around a bit too much and forcing some kid’s head in the toilet and yelling homophobic slurs at him while the kid struggled. The bunched up brown leather jacket under the sink told him all it needed to and Ryan rushed over, grabbing the back of the older kid’s jersey and slamming him into the hall.

“What the fuck are you doin’ yo-”

The jock might as well bit his tongue then, because next thing Ryan knew, he was popping him in the mouth and pounced on the taller boy, giving and recieving hits (hopefully giving more, but it was hard to tell). Ryan somehow ended up pinning him to the ground while he straddled his chest, gripping the front end of his collar. He admired the black eye and busted lip he gave him before getting up and kicking at his leg, rushing back into the bathroom.

Ryan fell to his knees in the stall because in front of him Philip Evans was having a heavy panic attack, curled up in the corner by the toilet. The poor freshmen didn’t know what to do, he just cowered in fear and tugged on his dripping brown hair. Ryan could physically feel the walls caving in on the boy and he did his best to make him comfortable, tugging off the black zip up jacket he had on and wrapped it around his shoulders. In this state, it looked big on him.

“Hey, I need you to calm down okay?" Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Ryan gently took his hands away from Philip’s face and flinched back at the burning sensation in his hand but paid no mind to it, gently giving the darker skinned trembling hands a soft squeeze.

"Breathe in, it’s okay,” he whispered and took a dramatic deep breath in so he could follow along, and exhaled.

After the boy’s panic attack was over and Philip had his head resting calmly in the crook of Ryan’s neck with the blond’s hand rubbing the back of his head soothingly, Ryan breathed out tiredly. They both sat on the tiled floor in a puddle of - hopefully - clean toilet water. Ryan kept telling him to “shh” in the nicest way possible.

At this point, it was almost impossible to ignore the burning on the back of his hand and Ryan carefully took the glove off and pressed it against the puddled floor, sucking in a deep breath of relief. The damn thing always flared up at the worst possible time, and he hoped Philip wouldn’t start freaking out again. Now that he was relaxed, he could feel the swelling in his face now. Ryan knew there’d be a black eye forming and some kind of bruise on his jaw, and he hoped Philip didn’t take blame in that.

It took a few minutes but Philip lifted his head and hissed, his hand carefully grasping at the nape of his neck. Ryan caught the view of an outlined star before it was covered, and he bit back a comment.

“It hurts.” Philip.

“Mine does too, it’ll go away in a couple of minutes… Your anxiety attack probably just made you more aware or some shit,” Ryan mumbled back and stood up and brought him with him, hooking an arm under his armpit.

They stumbled out of the bathroom after Ryan retrieved Philip’s jacket, his bag, and two paper towels (Ryan wrapped one around his hand and forced Philip to hold the other against his neck), slowly walking them to the nurse’s office with a trail of water dripping behind them.

[transjudas]

Pirates position player Philip Evans pitching (peak alliteration) for @pitchburgh

[jerrydelpriore]

Ex-Brooklyn Cyclone Philip Evans Set to Break Camp with the Mets

Ex-Brooklyn Cyclone Philip Evans Set to Break Camp with the Mets

By Jerry Del Priore

Infielder Phillip Evans with the Mets’ AAA-team, the Las Vegas 51s.

With Michael Conforto headed to the disabled list to start the season, utility infielder Phillip Evans has made the New York Mets’ opening day 25-man roster, the team announced yesterday.

The former Cyclone played six positions, including catcher, in camp with the Mets, and he hit .261 with two long balls,…

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[youre-pretty-gay]

The Great Thing About Short Hair

Ryan: *drags the brush through his hair once*

Ryan: Okay, let's go.

Philip: How the actual heck.

[youre-pretty-gay]

I got some fan art from my friend Evan and oh my gosh Philip looks so damn cute in a flower crown !!

[youre-pretty-gay]

Your Pretty (Gay) Flower Boy

In all four years of working in the tattoo parlor, Ryan would have never guessed that his customer that Sunday morning would be the little flower boy from across the street. Philip Evans was a cashier boy that worked right across the street in a flower shop. From what Ryan could tell, he really liked his job, he got along well with the customers (for being as shy as he was), and he enjoyed taking care of the plants that grew there. Ryan had gone in once and ordered a few flowers for his friend's birthday and Philip didn't seem at all the kind of guy who'd be standing in front of the Inking's Tattoo Parlor's desk. The poor kid kept glancing to the side, fidgeting with the hem of his floral patterned apron with a blush that showed up more on his shoulders and ears than his cheeks.

---

"I want to get," he hummed, looking over the laminated packet of designs. "the rose. On my upper arm, if you don't mind." Ryan couldn't help but cringe. "Are you sure you wanna get one of these? You don't seem like the kind of guy who'd want a tattoo." It's not like he wanted to lose buisness, but the nervous look in Philip's eyes made him take the packet away from him. "It'll hurt, you know." Philip's eyes glanced to the side, pushing himself up in the black leather chair. With him laying down, Ryan was almost eye level with him while he was sitting on the low rolling chair. A few moments passed without protest so Ryan took hold of his upper arm and started cleaning it with an alcohol pad. The sound of the music in the background was faint, but it still overweighed the aching silence that the both of them hated. Ryan slipped on a pair of black latex gloves before reaching toward to Philip's arm. He was as steady with him as any other patient albeit a tad gentler. He'd kept shushing him when he was sure Philip would start whimpering - and he did. By the end of it there were tear streaks marking the boy's cheeks. He was surprisingly cooperative, though. When he was at the couter to pay, Philip let out a long sigh. "I can cross that off my bucket list now, right?"

---

When Ryan came to work the next day, he passed by the flower shop and looked through the glass window to see Philip leaning over the counter on his elbow. He looked miserably bored. Ryan steeled himself and walked into the small shop, the fragrance of nature smacking him in the face like a brick. It was definetly better than the sweaty back room he was used to. "Philip, right? I didn't know if you would want this or not," Ryan set a small bottle of clear liquid on the counter. "It's the same brand I use to keep my tattoos cleaned." The brunette looked down at him and smiled softly in thanks. Ryan found out that he really liked that smile - it was a soft, barely visable smile, but it reached and shone in the midnight blue eyes that Philip had. It was an embarrassed smile, and he knew why. "You really didn't want that tattoo, did you?" "No, not really. I did it to get a few friends of mine off my back," he laughed bitterly. "A bunch of jerks. But you did a really good job on it, and it doesn't hurt as much, so, thanks." Philip was standing straight up then and he was so beautifully awkward that Ryan couldn't help but stutter and turn red when the boy tilted his chin into his shoulder with a blush and chuckle. Apparently, whenever Philip blushed it never made it to his cheeks (he guessed he just couldn't see it over Philip's darker skin tone). It just stopped at his shoulders and moved down his back and arms. God, he wanted to protect this kid with his life. When he got to the tattoo parlor, he was fifteen minutes late opening the doors. Monday was a really slow day. Ryan wished Tuesday was as slow as Monday, though. There were people coming in left and right, not all of them getting tattoos, either. A lot of them just came to browse through some of the art examples, and some chickened out, but at least he got to grasp delicately at some old guy's foot for twenty minute while drawing Mickey Mouse. Sad to say, that was the highlight of his day. When Wednesday came, he was a bit shocked to see a small Juniper bonsai sitting on the counter. Ryan plucked the tag off of it gently, unfolding the paper and holding it closer so he could read it. "I kinda lied on Monday, and I felt bad about it. I got the tattoo because I was too chicken to actually talk to you without needing an actual reason. So, accept this cute little tree as a thanks. Directions for it are on the back. Feel free to call if you need any help with it!" On the bottom was Philip's signature and a phone number. Yeah, Ryan was definitely going to keep a careful watch on his embarrassed little Flower Boy.