#seaevent003

[swamfree-blog]

SMS TO ___

winter: this storm is a 10/10 nope

winter: when it ends i'm going to celebrate by burning all of my denim jackets

[smoothindecision-blog]

     everyone in brighton knows it’s going to be a bad storm when even neon let’s its workers go early to get home before the storm hits — something about how shifts will be played by ear or something, but she doesn’t listen because she’s got her mother chattering in her ear. with her free hand she pulls up the hood of her rain jacket, as she rolls her eyes about what her mother is telling her on the phone. she’s babbling about making sure that she has enough water and food in case the power goes out and she can’t leave her flat. which is promptly followed by take the car if you need to go anywhere, which roughly translates into addison would rather starve and die of dehydration rather than get into a car. 

      addison mumbles a goodbye, i love you and hangs up as she steps out of the front doors of neon a frown immediately falling across her face. fortunately for her, she’d headed the warnings for the storm the day before and stocked up on her essentials. she lets out a huff of disappointment as she steps out into the rain, her phone and hands tucked into her pockets, head down against the rain and the wind. there’s an unbelievable urge to walk toward the beach to do some yoga, but that’s probably not the best idea. despite the rain, it doesn’t stop her from slipping into the coffee shop to grab a coffee. “damn, i didn’t realize it was suppose to start this early.” the blond shakes out her arms a bit, pulling the hood off of her. maybe she’ll take refuge here for a little while to see if it lets up. 

[flowerun-blog1]

even without the whispered forecasts and rush of preparation, he would have known it was coming. there has been an ever-present aching reminder of every bone he’s ever fractured that foreshadows the severity of the billowy black clouds on the horizon. it feels like the kind of natural eventual that changes things; that carries the weight of something more with it. something wicked this way comes. 

neil casts a sideways glance at the gloomy grey sky directly above as he bends to touch his toes. thunder rumbles far off shore, a prelude to what the restless coast has been hinting at all week. his bones sigh another ebbing ache. a warning. 

he ignores it. he knows what being caught out in this storm means — he still ties up his laces; wraps his fingers around each of his ankles in turn to drag their respective leg up, bending their respective knee. reckless.

a feeling lodges in his chest, something shimmery. he rolls back and forth from toe to heel, bouncing in place a bit to loosen up his muscles. he does not look directly at the sky again but the pounding in his ears sounds more like faraway rain on the water than an anxious heart beat. 

he ignores this, too. pale blues do stray toward the chalk cliffs in the distance but he knows better, weak to the memory of the last time he was caught in bad weather with good company. what if this storm ends... he doesn’t finish the thought. inhale, exhale. repeat. he takes off toward the beach.

[novembeir]

November had been finishing up a session when his phone went off for the tenth time in eight minutes, buzzing relentlessly in his back pocket. His eyebrows had furrowed in concentration right until he finished sanitising the tattoo and giving the client instructions for after care. It was only then that he allowed himself to look at his phone. There were three missed calls from his mother, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. What was were the seven calls from his flatmate. His nose wrinkled up in distaste before he swiped over the notification, bringing his phone to his ear as it began calling the male in question. When he heard the click of the phone being answered, he spoke immediately, “No, I don’t care if you’re fucking someone tonight. I’m not letting you have the flat to yourself. I’m cold and it’s tired,” He said with finality, figuring that was the reason for the calls. Despite living with each other, they never really spoke much, least of all on the phone.

There the crackle of static on the other end before his flatmate was interjecting, hurried and firm. “Shut the fuck up, okay? You’re at work, right?” The short male gave a nod even though nobody could see him and stepped in view of one of the mirrors in the studio, leaning closer to inspect the bags underneath his pale grey eyes. “I need you to go to Tesco and get a few things. I’ll send you a list of what I need and you get stuff for you, too, okay? Hurry up and don’t be late coming home.”

The dainty blond straightened his posture before responding, his frowning face reflected in the mirror. “It’s your turn to pay for groceries.”

“I know, I know,” He sounded annoyed in a way that made a knot of anxiety form in his stomach. “I’ll pay you back when you get home. You need anything from Boots? I’ll try and get a refill for your prescription just in case. Send me anything else you need. Be careful, okay?” Without further ado or elaboration, the phone goes dead and he was left blinking at himself in confusion for a long minute thinking about the fact the grocery was being dumped on him for the third time this month and he had just been hung up on. Cherry on top of a spectacular fucking day.

When he stepped out of the studio, he immediately wrapped up warm, closing his coat securely over the garish, large sweater that was hanging off his wiry frame and wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck. It was pissing down outside and he had been sick enough times. He stuffed his hands into his pocket and stepped into the pouring rain. The skies were were as dark as blackened lung, full of clouds that looked like the thickest smoke, and the wind blew so relentlessly it almost knocked him right off his feet. The February wind was merciless as it cupped his face in its icy hands, his cheeks heating up under the frozen caress. The walk to the nearest Tesco was about 8 minutes, but he managed it in five, slowing down only to stare at the packed store from outside. It was out of the ordinary to see a Tesco Express that was this full. Maybe there were more offers than usual. His phone buzzed twice in his pocket and he pulled it out, eyes narrowing when he saw it was the list from his flatmate and a vague message from his sister that said, ‘everything ok?’ Why was everyone being so fucking weird?

With a shrug, he replaced his phone into his pocket and stepped inside, moving to grab a cart only to find none available. His nose twitched with interest and he reached up to rub over it. OK. Not wanting to rely completely on his nonexistent arm-strength, he grabbed the last basket before stepping into the crazed fray. The next twenty-or-so minutes of panicky shopping felt like slow torture. Every time he moved to pick something off the shelves, a hand would come and grab it before he could almost as though they were afraid it was the last one. It was when he had finally managed to reach the pot noodles on the top shelf of aisle 4, his fingers finally brushing over it in a way that would allow him to grab it, only for someone else to intercept it, when he lost his shit. “Do you fucking mind? I had that first,” He huffed indignantly before turning to look at the offender in question, his hair messy from the exertion and the too-full basket by his feet. It was now too weighted for him to carry and he’d taken to kicking it around with his feet. He knew he was being petty and he could grab another one, and that technically he’d taken his hand off it in order to summon the energy to push back onto his toes and make that final grab, and that there were more pot noodles, but it had been a long day and this was too much.