verb (used with object)

insinuate to instill or infuse subtly or artfully as into the mind.

[owenelliot]

[toinsinuate]

Milo Ventimiglia for BELLO Mag's 2013 Holiday Issue

[ventimigrillo]

[oywiththesexpoodlesalready-deac]

[tyesheridann]

Dane Dehaan being the cutest ever

[joemazzellos-blog]

[avadakedeborah]

Dane Dehaan in Kill Your Darlings (2013)

[tyesheridann]

Dane Dehaan by Matt Carr

[azcrowley]

[tyesheridann]

The role that you play in the film is sort of a - the femme fatale, almost. You were the object of the desire of a lot of these characters. How did you play that? That’s an unusual role for a male to play. (x)

[monstrue]

Dane DeHaan for The Hollywood Reporter.

[aurorharry]

[toinsinuate]

"Dane and I are banging the drum already because we want the MTV ‘Best Kiss’ award. We want that golden popcorn!”  -Daniel Radcliffe

[monstrue]

[winchestress]

by Patrick Hoelck

[aerquo]

Everything is just — more so, with this vessel. Her legs are longer, her hips are wider, her chest has grown a considerable amount ( though that’s not saying much, seeing as she was nearly flat bust-ed, in her original form.), eyes a bit bigger, doe like and full of innocent wonder.

She’s vulnerable enchanting.

( Bouncy, wild locks and all. )

There’s a delighted coo, that leaves her lips, at the tenderly doted affection, from him. No doubt that he holds a special place, in her esteem — it’s a difficult thing to achieve, despite the first appearance, of her calmly and demure exterior.

Nimble digits ( which are also longer : true pianists hands. ) graze right over the scar across his eye— thoughtfully, before eyes wander back to meet his own.

Their eyes are still the same, which is comforting in itself, considering that just about everthing else for them ( physically) has been turned upsy daisy.

❝  Is it bad that I’m not so surprised, or shocked — as I am relieved? I mean, sure it’s odd but, I sorta like it. And — I could say the same about you, you know. Come on, I’m going to cook us a birthday breakfast. Have any favorites?   ❞

The hand falls, to rest upon his cheek, before finally falling to her side once again, and pressing a kiss of her own — upon the mark.

( Because she thinks it’s lovely. There’s more to it, but — that’s something the ivory beauty has hardly been able to decipher, or at least, has been ready to attempt to do so. )

[toinsinuate]

she's charming, that much is for certain.

and seeing as he holds almost no one to high esteem she's an automatic shoo-in. she's changed quite a bit. but besides all of that, she's ezra, still.

and he's smiling again, the same old subtly amused show of teeth before he shakes his head. and when slender fingers brush across that scar (that scar that must mean something so important but he just hasn't figured why yet) eyes flutter closed for just a moment.

very brief.

❝ Not bad at all. Fresh start or something. No favorites. I'm sure anything you'll cook will be spectacular. ❞

and once again a hand rests on the small of her back to lead her inside. some things never change.

[aerquo]

You’re preaching to the choir, Richard.

She’d made sure to slip out of the house, first chance she looked in the mirror to wash her face — only to realize that the ivory skinned, worn down one she’d been wearing, just the night before, was not the same, reflecting in the glass.

( Blonde hair, shimmering green optics. It’s as if a new form, meant a new lease on life. How convenient, given the time of year. )

She’s yet to tell Dan, about what the day implies.

( December 31st — Birthday. Day of birth. How joyous. )

But despite the new form, the solemnity which once hung over the ( what she’s coming to realize is merely a — ) vessel she’d kept for twenty one years straight, still lingers. Even as bare feet walk their way over, on a road that’s been worn down by the sheer amount of times she’s walked the same way, towards a home that seems like a second one to her now, more than anything.

( Though it’s vastly important, that she still sees it as a second, home. Not a first. )

There’s a light laughter, upon plump, coral tinted lips, upon hearing his words, ring within elf like ears. ( Some things never changed, no matter what body was taken. )

 ❝ Weirdest wake up call I’ve ever received, by far. ❞

Closing the space between the two figures, she comes to rest a dainty hand, just to run it along the features of his new face.

Interesting.

 ❝ Happy birthday . ❞

[toinsinuate]

he can't mind it. he doesn't feel different. unbeknownst to him, of course, this form only amplifies his charismatic and enigmatic behaviors. but he's focusing on what she looks like right now.

she's taller for one. and now she's blonde. which is just fine. and those blue eyes are now green. all in all, she's still lovely.

      & richard has no one else to tell of his birthday. but it's always kind of been that way. he doesn't mind. and he smiles at her in a way that is completely and definitely richard; full of teeth and nothing but good meaning.

          ❝ Real strange, that's for sure. You look nice, though.

                                                      Happy birthday, Ezra. ❞

of course as he's prone to doing, he places a kiss on her temple. 

[toinsinuate]

this is odd. that doesn't even begin to cover it. 

because when he'd gone to sleep this isn't what he'd looked like.

but when he awoke this was the sight he was greeted with.

                             surprised, does not cover it.

but after his beginning alarm had dwindled he couldn't find it in him to complain. the change wasn't so drastic that he needed to.

he's a bit taller. his hair is lighter. but his eyes, those remained the same.

at this point richard is aware that ezra will becoming his way. because it's not a normal occurrence to wake up looking like someone else.

as we know, they're not normal.

          what a way to start their birthdays.

  ❝You too?❞

[whisperum-deactivated20140108]

" Afraid so, sir. " 

There’s a bit of amusement to the reply, as he’s allowed to step inside the house. 

( Though, by way of Richard allowing him in, Harry already assumes that the other at least has a faint grasp, at the familiarity involved with his arrival. With hope, he’s correct. )

A singular digit, long and lanky, taps lightly against his temple. As if willing him to use his head, to think back, way back ( not too far back there, Harrison. ) so that he may remember.

Heterochromic optics, show more excitement, more joy than the rest of his features allow, for they glisten with a childhood nostalgia, of growing up as Orphan boy in a Southern state, in some rinky little town. ( That apparently they both grew out of . )

Cringing some, however brief a moment, before the bloodied blonde summons forth a continual response, one that seems just as quick witted, and half as nervous, half as shaky, as it might with to come out.

" Or do you not remember punching some punk ass kid in the face for talking about how I didn’t have any real parents ? I’d almost say I’m crushed, if for the fact that I think my nose might actually be crushed. "

( Cue another cringe, and a free hand coming to gently grasp at his nose’s bridge, in an attempt to salvage whatever could be left, of it’s natural shape. )

Harry had never been an immensely popular kid, in school growing up. ( It’s why he dropped out of high school, but by then it had become a matter of feeling too smart to learn anything the teachers could ever lecture him about. )

But when he was younger, it had been an entirely different matter. He hadn’t filled out, like he was as a twenty two year old man ( and even then, he felt there was still some growing to be had. ) with a mop of hair that was never tamed, because if the head mistress at the orphanage didn’t check before he ran out the door, it sure as hell wasn’t going to get brushed, teeth too big for his mouth, and two different colored eyes that didn’t always get such a good reception, like they did now.

Too different, to be interacting with the normal kids, he always thought.

But eventually Richard came along, and there had been hope.

Even if only for a short while.

[toinsinuate]

it's a hope that harrison can continue to keep.

richard has a good recollection of this life so far. and he'd be a liar if he didn't remember the one who stood before him.

         the one with a spirit too similar to his own in feeling. the one who didn't exile him like all the other children. 

       ( you don't have any real parents! 

              and there richard goes, with no hesitation in letting his fist collide with the dark haired boy's nose. )

he remembers, he truly does.

& that sets off a moment of bewilderment before he walks over to his couch and sits; slender fingers tap, tap, tapping, against the glass on the table.

           Harrison.

"Harry. How did you even find me?"

         he's curious and for the most part, concerned. because the feeling he gets around ezra, is manifesting with the not so stranger, now.