wreckage @whitelics - Tumblr Blog

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hi there, thank you for checking out my blog ! i’m dana, twenty-five, any pronouns are fine and i’m currently in the brt time zone. this is a selective oc indie blog and definitely a wip cause i have absolutely no idea what i'm doing lol but my ims are always open for plots and please feel free to follow if you'd like to write with me !

here are some links if you want to have a look around:

ABOUT + RULES

MUSES

WISHLIST

WANTED FACES

#pinned

vedajuno

Ah, yes, I see you’ve taken notice of the fine knight I keep dangling in a big gilded cage above my evil throne. Quite the pretty little ornament the would be savior makes, wouldn’t you agree~?

What? No, it IS a big cage. That’s- it’s the standard size for a knight’s cage I’m pretty sure. NO I’m not going to invest in 500 square feet of dungeon, it’s ONE knight! I’m pretty sure knights live in hovels in the wild anyways which is basically the same- Look, the cage is quite literally gilded. He loves the cage! He loves obediently preening in the cage! Yeah well, when you capture your own knight you can keep it in whatever size castle you want to, but this one’s mine. Especially since you’re so obviously jealous of me and my cute and awesome knight anyway.

mikimuun

He loves the cage!

#inspo

[ carnation ]: one of our muses is experiencing stress related to either their parent or their child, and the other tries to comfort them.

the sound of footsteps makes james stand ramrod straight, hurriedly wiping his cheeks with the sleeves of his sweater. "sorry, sir, i'll—" he starts, face angled downward to hide the evidence of his tears. he's already bracing for his father's contempt, but when he turns around, the figure who approaches is clad in burgundy velvet trousers. the kind of clothing stephen loveless sneers at when worn at his house. “and what's goin' on over here?" james' heart races at the sound of that voice, casual as anything. the voice of a man who owns the world. his gaze shoots up before he can stop it, landing squarely on gray eyes. "nothing." james' voice comes out steady enough, though the word is followed by an involuntary sniffle. even through his mortification at being seen in this state by mickey barton, he's unable to look away. "i'm just looking for my phone." mickey hums, examining james' face too closely. his easy smile is nowhere to be found. "your daddy being a dick to you again?" "what?" james asks as if the notion is outlandish. "no, it's—" "he's a cunt," mickey cuts him off. james’ eyebrows shoot up at the insult, but he says nothing. “you should be flattered he doesn’t like you.” usually, the thought that his father doesn’t like him is painful. by all means, mickey’s words should sting. but there’s something strangely liberating about hearing it spoken so plainly, finally treated as the simple fact that it is. "are you?" james asks. "what?" “flattered that he doesn’t like you?” james regrets the question immediately; what was he thinking saying something like that? but there’s nothing mean about the laugh that breaks out of mickey. if anything, he sounds delighted. "you bet your ass i am," mickey says. james wants to ask if it doesn’t bother him that adam is favored, if he doesn’t want to be appointed the successor, but for once keeps his mouth shut. "guys like him don’t know what to do with people like you and i." you and i. the words make james’ ears burn, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. he’d never allowed himself to think the problem could lie in stephen. to hear mickey say it, while including himself in it, feels like a revelation. mickey smiles at him with an unhurriedness unlike himself, then reaches into his pocket for a cigarette james watches too intently as its placed between his lips. “you got a light?” mickey asks, and the spark in his eye tells james his earlier escapade for a smoke in the fire escape didn’t go unnoticed. the thought of mickey having caught him at it makes his heart race. he wonders what else mickey might've paid attention to without james’ knowledge. “yeah,” he says, eagerly patting his pockets until he finds the lighter— the pretty golden one he’d stolen from the handsy guy in the village. he steps closer, perhaps closer than necessary, and lights the cigarette under mickey’s watchful gaze. he stays hovering close for a moment more, eyes fixed on mickey’s, then takes a step back. “thanks, doll,” mickey says in a cloud of smoke. he’s quiet, looking james over for a moment before reaching a hand towards his face, making the breath snag in james’ throat. he brushes a thumb under james’ still teary eye, which had watered again in proximity to the fire. “you give that idiot too much power.” james chuckles at that, though there’s no humor in it. he’s more embarrassed than anything, and even more so because he doesn't know how to be any other way; it’s hard not to give someone power when they rule your life like a god. there’s nothing james can say that won’t sound pathetic, so he just averts his gaze. “cute that you call him ‘sir’, though,” mickey says. “i liked the sound of that.” that gets james to look back up at him, hot all over. "yeah?" mickey just smiles and takes another drag. "take care, kid." "thank you, sir." mickey looks at him just long enough for james to see his approving smirk, then throws the barely-smoked cigarette on the ground and goes back inside.

#threads: james #threads: james & mickey