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Realistic or Modern Cities Never Sleep

Characters
Here
Other
Here
MOOD: Nervous/Irritated







OUTFIT: bad girl costume!!! leathers! hair feathers!







LOCATION: Backstage
basics
MENTIONS:







INT:



Chimney Swift Chimney Swift
Twin Fantasy Twin Fantasy
tags
TL;DR Sed fermentum tortor nulla, vel sodales nibh bibendum eu. Maecenas a lacus a libero blandit commodo. In lobortis aliquam urna, id tempor ex semper at
tl;dr
ashley park
I'm not that nice, I'm mean and I'm evil, don't call me nice




"Oh baby-" Ashley's monotone one-liner about crack was interrupted as Oliver leaned in closer to hers for an action which could technically be construed as a kiss, and the sheer horror of what they were about to do sunk in. She'd yet to fully process the fact that they'd have to kiss, even when Oliver said as much. She'd just assumed that he'd panic last minute and aim for the cheek or puke, never accounting for Oliver actually being willing to commit to the performance. But here she stood, kissing him until both parties pulled away, both relieved that scene was over.

As the scene ended and the two kids were prepared to exit into the wings, Ashley was startled by the sudden blasting of music. The shock quickly subsided into delight, as not only was this the most deliciously sacreligious thing that could happen, but she was positive her bestie was responsible for it. Cackling wickedly, she grabbed Oli's arms and pulled him backstage. "We fucking did it," She grinned, putting her fist out for a bump. Sure, it was awkward and a bit like kissing a frog brother, but the hard part was over.

"You okay?" Ash asked again, patting Oliver's shoulder."You're like the turtle that survived now, congrats." She teased, relieved she'd finally get to crack a joke about his metaphors, since the rush of the play had previously distracted her. Regardless, at least they'd gone and made it through the play like the badass turtle bitches the two of them were. Now, she could get back to her mission of being the star of the worst show to exist, and guiding the audience through the chaos and destruction which was Carol's play. But before that, she had a mission.

Running around backstage like a madman, Ash was on the hunt for the perpetrators of the little hijacking escapade. "Aevelyn!" She called out, spotting her beloved sister bestie conversing with Insect Washington. "You. Are. Brilliant." she breathed out, winded from running. "Tony-level shit I swear to god. I couldn't be prouder of my deceased cancer curing baby" She faux-bawled, wrapping an arm around Ivy to mockingly emulate a motherly hug.
code by valen t.
 





/* ------ left side ------ */




/* ------ left side info ------ */
mood gleeful

location MJC School Auditorium - Backstage

outfit artsy black turtleneck

fun fact Everything about turtles in this post is entirely untrue... Except the breathing out of their butts thing. Some turtles can in fact do this, but it isn't so much breathing as just filtering oxygen in and CO2 out. It's called cloacal respiration.

tag Twin Fantasy Twin Fantasy tamarapasek tamarapasek


Ivy Dawkins




/* ------ right side ------ */


"Aevelyn!"
Her dearest friend and soon-to-be sisterwife’s voice cut through the mob scene backstage, just as Bug’s brilliant music fizzled into silence, leaving only the sweet sound of the laughter and confusion of the audience to be heard.
“ASHLEIGHYN!!!” She shrieked, butchering her friends’ name with nonsense syllables. That was an ongoing joke between the two of them, for some odd reason. The sense of humor that the two girls shared was honestly baffling to the unprepared viewer, at times. She ran up to the girl, who was dragging a bewildered-looking Turtle Boy with her. Ivy wasted no time in bumping the boy to the side to have her friend all to herself. He’d be fine, surely, once he got out of his weird fugue state.

“You’re damn right, Biatch. Stickbug and I here deserve all the awards. The Grammy, the Tony, The Oscar, The Emmy, The Tina, The Rumplestiltskin. We’re gonna rob the red carpets so blind they won’t notice us taking the actual carpet too.”

“And oh my god, here” Ivy brandished an antiseptic wipe towards her friend, “before those turtle boy germs impregnate your mouth. Don’t want you to start experiencing symptoms.” slipping into her most unflattering imitation of Oliver Dreyfuss's mannerisms, she pretended to experience a sudden fit of uncontrollable turtle fact blabbering. “T-T-TURTLE’S BRAINS ARE IN THEIR FEET AND THEY BREATHE OUT THEIR BUTTS! THE FIRST TURTLE WAS BORN FROM GOD'S VERY OWN SPLEEN” She laughed uproariously at her own terrible joke. “Trust me, you don’t wanna go down that road, bestie. Soon you’re gonna be flopping around on the beach laying eggs in the sand. Jesus McFuckin Christ, I can't believe you actually kissed.”

Oliver was, in fact, only a couple of feet away from them still, and instantly started to yell across the room to correct Ivy’s blasphemously incorrect turtle claims. Ivy ignored this, holding up a finger like she would to a whining toddler, and marched over to the sound system to start messing with the controls again.

“This old thing better still be hooked up, yo. It’s almost time for my Moment. Hurry up and die already, why don’cha? Jesus here will bail you out, don't worry.” She grabbed the microphone attached to the sound equipment that she and Bug had just violated, wanting to prepare a bit early for her heart-wrenching enactment of Ashley’s dead fetus. No delightful feedback came when she tapped her fingers against the surface, though. Instantly she glowered, pulling and tugging at the machinery until she found what had come loose.
“Heyyy, someone pulled the plug! SABOTAGE!!!!”

Instantly she was furious. More white-hot ripping mad than she'd ever been in her whole little life.
Someone had cut off their glorious symphony on purpose!? How dare they? Surely they would pay in blood for their heinous crimes. In a surge of sheer rage, she collared the nearest victim and gave him a shake.
“Turtle Boy!! Did you do this!?”




/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 





























SEPTEMBER 26TH.

“Dan, can I call you Dan?” Well, that didn’t sound very good. It sounded like he was about to be on the receiving end of a very hard negotiation.

“I’m not happy about it, but I’ll allow it.” Said equally with the amiability that came from a lot of negotiations like a lot of this. Slowly building up good rapport with the client by being approachable. A gentler hand than his brother, that was for sure.

Ren was acting like being asked for a penny was the worst thing to ever happen to him. Dante smoothed his hair back, regardless of the fact that there really wasn’t any hairs out of place and by touching it, he was really just making the curly mass more of a mess.

A chill of terror that ran through him as he realized that he’d been made sent another hand through his hair,

Dante was willing to break a lot of rules for family, but it’d still be worse off for everyone if he got disbarred on his first fucking day. Perhaps the first hint of something more than pleasant amicabilities washed over his face, wariness lingering in his eyes as Ren wound up his next pitch.

“You’ll stop acting nice, I won’t press charges, and we both walk out of here happy to never meet again.” A hand thrust in his direction. “So Handsome, you tell me, do we have a deal?”

“Handsome. I like that. Deal.” Dante leaned forward and shook Ren’s hand, his amiability and friendly smile dropping like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and in return was a cold aloofness.Though, the polite and humorous tone was still there, it was just more unapproachable.

He stood and left the interrogation room, while Ren was shuffled back to his cell. The guard came back not five minutes later, flanked by Dante who watched as Aurelian was released first. More Italian, the vestiges of an argument that Dante won as Aurelian slunk away.

“Sorry, we’re waiting five minutes for Ari to leave the general premises.” Dante said, checking his phone, no longer even pretending to be interested in Ren. The guard unlocked Ren’s cell. And Dante followed Ren out of the building.

“Pleasure doing business with you, pretty boy, let’s never do this again.” He said offhandedly, a dismissal, as he waited for Ren to leave and get on with his day like a normal person























now playing...







Naked



FINNEAS


































































♡coded by uxie♡

 





/* ------ left side ------ */




/* ------ left side info ------ */
mood ...

location Emergency Room

outfit Sad cold boy

fun fact

tag weldherwings weldherwings qunqun qunqun floralmoon floralmoon


Max Berkowitz




/* ------ right side ------ */


Did Josh just hug him back…?

Feelings overcame Max like a rush of morphine.

His arms climbed up Joshua’s back, caressing him and pulling him even closer as he rested his head on his shoulder, breathing in deeply, while Josh leaned his cheek into the top of Max’s head. Josh's fingers leafed through his hair, sending ripples of electric down his spine. Every single sensation felt a thousand times more vivid than anything else he'd ever experienced. It was like seeing in full color for the first time. He never wanted to go back. He never wanted this to end.

Max's breathing slowed, growing heavier. A wave of warmth came over him so gently that it could only be properly described as intoxicating.

There was the overwhelming urge to come even closer, to lean his head up and kiss Josh softly on the mouth, just like he had in all those stupid dreams where Josh would–
He didn't kiss Josh, of course. He couldn't. There was no way that he was having these same feelings. Max didn't know if anyone in the world had ever felt this way, and certainly no one would ever feel this way about him. He'd be taking this moment with him to the grave.

Max would’ve gladly died in Josh’s arms. This felt right. Like his whole life had just been leading up to this one moment. He wanted to stop time and stay in this moment forever, but like everything else, it faded into an echo before he could hold onto it.

Josh pulled away, his arm retreating towards his chest to form the word “sorry.”
If anyone should be apologizing, it was Max, for having such blasphemous, dirty, disgusting thoughts…

“Don’t apologize. I… I get it, you know? This place sucks.” Still high off the sensation of hugging Josh, Max laughed shyly, trying to release some of the tension building up inside of him.
"I've been here a bunch of times. I guess you could say I'm clumsy." That wasn't entirely a lie. Max was pretty accident-prone, and had often wound up here as a kid for broken ankles and the like.

The last time he was here, though, was no accident.
He refused to let himself think of it, locking his gaze on Josh's warm brown eyes, trying to get lost in their depth enough to continue ignoring the reasons why he was so terrified of this space.

“My dad used to work here. Over in oncology. Like… cancer.” He took the time to slowly spell out oncology on his fingers, so Graham would understand the unusual word. He always tried to be sensitive to the fact that ASL was a second language for the majority of his friends, and most of them had only been learning it for a short while. Sometimes he wondered if they thought it was worth it, doing all that work just to communicate with someone who was too awkward to hold it together for a conversation.
“But, uh… do you… do you want to go in and check on Graham? I think he needs us right now.” Max felt horrible for having left Graham behind in the hospital room with just Abby to keep him company. He just... in that moment he really did feel like he was going to throw up if he stayed any longer with all the panic and grief and despair, but somehow he felt strong enough to handle it now.
He smiled at Josh, light blue eyes sparkling under the harsh florescent hallway lights. "Are you coming?"

He held out his hand, hoping, praying, that Joshua would hold it.





/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
Bug

" i love you but you test me every day! "
Bug was still laughing their ass off well after the music died out, to the point that they hadn't even questioned why it had gone out. May Gu had pretty quicky scampered to the back, clutching her Flying V by the neck so that the strings pressed up against the fretboard. Her hands shuddered in some motion of stress, which Bug largely ignored -- if anything, that was a sign of success.

As soon as Ashley appeared behind the stage, Bug grinned.

"Asherbyyyy. Come to see where the magic happens?" They did a wiggling motion with their fingers. They shot a glance at May, quickly miming out a blowjob. May furrowed her brow and signed at Bug.

"I'm not deaf, I'm--"

"I have NO IDEA what she's doing back here but me and Ivy are enacting fine art. I think I might've busted one of the cables..." They began checking all of the wires, trying to figure out if one of them had somehow snapped from the epic mega-power of noise music. They had a whole playlist set up and everything. "The great thing about being a sea turtle is that most of your kids will get eaten by seagulls unless a bunch of environmentalist hippie narcs show up to force you into a life of indentured parentude."

Their eyes swiveled down the long electric cord and up to the wall... where it had been unplugged.

"SABOTEUR!" They gasped, putting a hand to their forehead like they were about to faint. "That seriously pisses me off! Who the hell did this?"

"Mallory did." May signed. Bug gave her a quick glance before motioning their arm burying itself deep in someone's asshole. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Bug did not understand ASL... and May didn't bring anything to write on. Bug was just about to go up onstage and have a word with the audience before they realized that SOMEONE had dropped the curtains.

"They pulled the shutters down! I feel like my artistic spirit is being flattened under the goddamn government or whatever." Their hands dove into their pockets, lip curled in an irritated scowl. "When I find who did this, they're gettin' rabies."

"It won't be long."

Where the hell did Max go? He was one of the only people she knew around here who could interpret sign language and he'd just up and disappeared. Maybe he had a family emergency? May would have to write him a get-well-soon note later.
mood: upset / stressed | location: backstage | tags: tamarapasek tamarapasek Chimney Swift Chimney Swift








May
code: @s e v e n
 







abigail hargreaves



  • .



As he curled up closer, she realized that he was opening up to her, it was almost a comforting feeling for Abigail, giving some of the backstory on how he ended up here, where it all started. Her heart broke for him a little bit more as he stated that nobody wants the real Graham, just the façade he puts up.

Reassuring thoughts run through the girl's mind, but all she did was sit and listened, even when the volume of his voice dropped down, her ears still picked up each word he spoke. Her mouth faded into a frown as he mentioned the last person who said they'd be there for him died not soon after, "So that's what caused this.." She thought to herself.

There's only so much that the brain can take before breaking down, trying to imagine how much pain and suffering Graham must've gone through in order to get to this point in life was unfathomable. What mattered most now, was just making sure that he was going to be okay, but it would be easier this time, he could go at his own pace.

"I didn’t think I’d live long enough without her that it’d make much of a difference.”

His statement hung in the air, almost like it was just waiting for someone to grasp it, Abigail looked down at her hands, then looked back at the man laying in the bed. One last time he spoke up, questioning why his only worthwhile skill was surviving. What would be considered the qualifications for thriving then?

Taking a deep breath in, Abigail sighed once more, "I wish I knew the exact words to give you, but I'm glad that you opened up, and you are still here." A smile slowly appeared on her face, "You're destined to be something amazing, Graham, I promise." Her hand finds his shoulder once more gently squeezing it, hoping he truly understands what she has said.






/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
Raevlyn
Darrow
Take me to space~
https:///www.raevlyn-darrow.com
/sugarinspace

With the chaos and confusion happening both backstage and in the audience, Raevlyn had the bright idea, maybe the best idea they'd had in a while, of sneaking off for a smoke, but of course, they'd need a lookout. That's where Oliver Dreyfuss came in, the most loyal boy they knew would serve as a fine lookout, so off the student in the schoolgirl costume went, Saturn in tow, her ears perked tall and tail fluttering at all the noise. As they slipped backstage towards the sound booth, Raven was confronted with a whole cast of colorful characters, Ivy's own brand of chaos hot in the middle, and Raven couldn't help but giggle at their strange friend's dramatics as they slipped next to Oliver.
"Hey lads," They muttered an almost inaudible hello, slight accent still stuck from last week's visit to Scotland for their uncle's funeral. They wrapped their arms around their waist, trying to control the shake in their hands as the overstimulation of the noises began to wan.
"What's happened?" They muttered curiously, mostly to Oliver, while Saturn sniffed the room, venturing around her master, keeping watch for trouble.
coded by reveriee.
 
Last edited:





/* ------ left side ------ */




/* ------ left side info ------ */
mood freaked out

location MJC School Auditorium - Backstage

outfit dear god someone help this kid

fun fact

tag tamarapasek tamarapasek Twin Fantasy Twin Fantasy Nightmarish Nightmarish


Oliver Dreyfuss




/* ------ right side ------ */


To no one's surprise, Oliver wasn't handling having had to kiss Ashley very well. Before the scene had even ended he was reduced to a stuttering wreck, neurotically wiping off his mouth, skittering back as if trying to flee the stage… and that was before sudden earsplitting music erupted from the speakers.

Ashley quickly grabbed his arms and tugged him off the stage before his mind could process what was happening. Good thinking on her part: she'd probably single-handedly saved the day back there. He was badly shaken, but he'd calm down eventually. At the very least he was able to cooperate with her leading him off. He hadn't stabbed anyone.

The blinding stageights disappeared behind the shabby curtains and they re-emerged backstage, into a whole different jungle of chaos. He wasn't feeling the noise rip through his nervous system anymore– did that mean the music had stopped? He had no idea. Ashley had brought him to her friends Bug and Ivy, one of whom promptly pushed the shivering nerd aside to give Ashley an exuberant greeting.

"You okay?" Ashley asked, once they were all safely backstage and away from the initial shockwave of overstimulation and into the next one. He nodded, but didn't seem so sure of himself. "You're like the turtle that survived now, congrats."

Oliver, who barely remembered his attempted metaphor from earlier, mouthed "wh-what? Turtles... turtles survive only... just because we made it to the ocean doesn't mean...", his face going blank and vacant. He didn’t seem to be fully cognizant of what was happening around him until Ashley's smallest friend started loudly crowing away about sea turtles. It didn't even click that she was making fun of him, all he knew was that she was wrong.
Lies, horrible stupid lies…
This girl didn't know the first thing about turtle biology.

"That's not true! Turtles' brains… turtles' brains are–!!" He snapped, fiercely attempting to defend his favorite animals, but Ivy abruptly cut him off with a dramatic shush. He stopped instantly. He knew better than to speak out of turn; his mother taught him that much. His mother, who was still out in the audience with Ashley's dad...
His mother just watched him kiss Ashley.
Oh god.
He was going to be in so much trouble.
That thought just dropped into his head uninvited.

Back to the present fiasco: Oliver didn't know Ivy very well, and after she had terrorized him with a fake plastic crab in his locker at school, he had no interest in getting to know her. And since then, she'd proved herself to be one of his most determined bullies.

He was used to bullying. That was an everyday occurrence for him.

But nothing could have prepared him for Ivy grabbing his shoulders, shaking him back and forth and yelling in his face.

"STOP IT!"
He screamed, trying to shove her off. It didn't work. She pushed back, poking him in the chest in a way that was more infuriating than painful…

Someone standing in the corner, a girl, tried to sign something to them, an answer to one of the questions that Ivy was shrieking. Oliver didn't know any ASL besides help me and thank you, though... he didn't understand her. He didn't understand anything that was happening to him.

"What happened?"
Raevlyn's voice joined the cacophony of sounds.

What happened, indeed. Oliver didn't even know how to start answering that question.

He had ripped the stupid skull durag off his head and was wringing it tightly in his hands, his hair now a tangled mess and sticking in every which direction. It had started to feel like the damn thing was strangling his brain, making it impossible to think.

"Uh…" was all he was able to get out, gesturing vaguely at the room, hoping the catastrophe would speak for itself. Maybe someone else could answer Raev's question more eloquently.





/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 







joshua jones






Joshua watched as Max’s hands moved, focusing carefully as the boy spelt out the word oncology. A slight frown upon his face, and mouth slightly agape as he narrowed in on those hands at work, as he tried to process what word Max was creating. While his parents had been diligent in teaching ASL within the household - with most of the languages they had learnt - it was still a foreign concept to use it out in the wild. Quite often they would only use the language to communicate with each other in the means of practising. It was rare to actually use it out in public like he had been doing so with Max. And, if we were being quite honest, Joshua wasn’t the greatest at it in his family. Mary was the star pupil - and Matthew too. The pair of them strived for greatness and always got to the top with great gusto. Joshua, on the other hand, was happy to take a slow route and enjoy what life had to bring to him along the way.

When Max signed the word for ‘cancer’ - one word that Joshua had, somehow, managed to remember so clearly and correctly - Joshua’s eyes widened from their narrowed appearance. Oh! His Dad worked in oncology working with cancer patients? That was pretty neat. He almost had half a mind to ask Max more about it; more about his family life and what was it like. But then he asked if they should go back and check in on Graham. In all honesty, he wanted to say no. He wanted to tell Max to go right in there by himself and that he would wait out here. Because it felt like he had only made things worse by coming. He saw the look that Graham had given him, and he had been the one to trigger such a reaction from him by accidentally pressing the button. So, Joshua just wanted to do what he did best; avoid conflict. Stay out of it. Stand in the background and be invisible.

What would Jehovah do?

Jehovah would go. He would help a friend in need. He would provide comfort even if He felt like he was getting persecuted. Dammit. Max gazed up at him, his eyes glistening with hope; how could he say no to that? Releasing a soft exhale, staring down at his feet for a moment as he collected the thoughts rampaging through his mind at the current time, Joshua finally nodded his head. “Yeah, i’ll come” he agreed, signing to Max before bringing his gaze to meet the other boys. It was at that moment that he realised that Max had his hand out, ready to be held.

His mind flickered back to the day of the Bible Study. The moment that Max had held his hand, he had felt such comfort and support that was undeniably foreign but also welcoming and… well, left like home. Felt like somewhere safe and like he was wanted. Something that he had struggled to feel even within his own household. Forgotten by his parents once his sisters arrived, and left in the hands of his older brothers who just assumed he would find his own way in life. Always overlooked by the teachers in the classroom, but never really sought out by the pupils within his school. He was just there; another person to fill out the empty spaces that lingered in the hallways of the schools and the seating arrangements within the Jones residence. He wasn’t expected to bring any sort of substance to conversations, nor to contribute to making something better. If life was a movie, Joshua Jones was just an extra to fill in the background. An NPC in a video game with no lines, only to exist for the pleasure of the eye. There was never a chance that he’d be able to get the ‘lead role’ in life.

But when he had embraced Max, and when they had held hands at Bible Study, he didn’t feel that way. He wasn’t just a background member to Max in those moments; he was finally seen and acknowledged. So, as he saw that outstretched hand, Joshua had no hesitation to extend his own and take hold of Max’s. To wrap it all up in a nice little bow, he offered the boy a warm, affirmative smile with his closed lips (after all, he felt safe and at home, but still not enough to bear one of the things he was self-conscious about physically).







/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 





























SEPTEMBER 26TH.

Handsome. I like that. Wry humor or a touch of transparency, Ren could not decipher, and it would be a fool’s error to waste time untangling the threads of an enigma. Grateful for something more distinctly human than a cookie cutter reply, it did nothing to obscure the unabashed observation idling from the other side of the table. Eyes distract, pulling slowly across their attire.

This man was a professional.

Who liked being called Handsome.

Ren should’ve known. He found men who wore suits for a living were particularly depraved.

Deal.

Trade concluded with a shake of the hand, the klepto left the room feeling more comfortable than its entry. Back in the cell and still lost trying to find clarity in the mosaic of Dante’s behaviour, the lean cut of— dare he say, interest, had seemingly dissipated to ascetic air.

Aurelian, freed, sulked off like an injured dog, hopefully the last time Ren would ever have to see the brutish man, leaving downtime of waiting.

A hummed “got it” to Dante’s explanation, the man now rendered a portion prosaic after Ren’s request. Unable to gauge lines of fact or fiction, from the steal of peripheral glances he could discern the lawyer was more invested in his phone than the generous individual who’d labelled him so kindly.

Handsome.

With no other words shared he was released, recalling asphalt beneath shoes before sauternais sentiment met him halfway. A sudden tether leashing him back to the conversation.

Ren could go and get on with his day like a normal person.

But alas, Ren was not normal.

See, Ren was sick. It was terminal, his attraction to men.

Fed a drop of honey, pretty-boy, intentions of leaving were severed short. To say he’d been distracted from caution, from the appeal of going home, was a risible understatement. Moth drawn to flame in search of warmth, harkening for something a little more than light, something palatable in company and tempered of attachment.

It had completely nothing to do with the fact this sharp-dressed man just paid his bail.

Nope. Not at all.

“You seem to like getting things over quickly.” Always a sense of efficiency, strike a deal, shake hands, depart. “Ever just relax?”

It was a risk, weighed against a curt slap of the wrist for crossing boundaries. Keeping distance whilst floating a hand up the charcoal necktie, fingers tucked languid to fabric as he secured the material a notch tighter around the slope of Dante’s neck. A caricature of affection or promise of ensnarement, the threat of pulling the item was very much an option.

“If you’re still feeling charitable today.” Gentle hold and thumb resting on the necktie, a spider-soft weight skimmed the fabric. “Come get a coffee with me, I’ll even let you pretend to be nice.”























now playing...







It Will Come Back



Hozier


































































♡coded by uxie♡

 





























SEPTEMBER 26TH.

Oh, but apparently his new “client” was anything but normal. While Dante was busy trying to order an Uber to his new apartment, he suddenly felt fingers slipping underneath his chin towards his throat, an automatic response to jolt his head up and look at his attempted murderer in the eye.

He was being spoken to.

“Ever just relax?”

A small throat clear, the nervous twitching of fingers, eyes darting from side to side as he glanced at the people milling around them. If anything, Dante's natural looseness and charisma suddenly hammered out into stiff anxieties. Who was watching. What was happening. Why was he suddenly getting so touchy.

“I’m…” Where were they going with this. “I’m not actually…”

The lie always sounded pathetic, and it was quite a flimsy one. And besides, he was in America now. The paranoia was always strong, who was watching him and what repercussions did his actions have. But he hadn’t even met any of the Bratva people yet, surely they didn’t know his face yet. Right?

And even then… Americans were usually a bit more understanding about this kind of thing than the Very Catholic Italians… probably. Ren, at least, felt comfortable enough in openly flirting in public. That probably said something… Unless Ren was a fucking weirdo.

Y’know what.

Ren was probably a fucking weirdo.

“Uhm….” Now was usually the time he’d slap off the pickpocket’s hands. Space and distance were very needed, and he’d deal with any lingering feelings later. Alone, preferably.

“Come get a coffee with me. I’ll even let you pretend to be nice.”

Both eyebrows raised in a look of incredulity. A break from both the pleasantries and the aloofness. Perhaps the first real expression that he’d let filter on his face the entire interaction.

“You want me to “lie” while on a date with you.” He said, air quoting the lying bit. He reached up and gently pried Ren’s hand off of his tie.

Blink. He didn’t necessarily let go of Ren’s hand though.

“That’s a first if I ever heard one.” A pause.

He let go of the hand. A run of his hands through his hair. Head darting around, again looking for anybody that was watching them too closely. Decisions. Decisions.

“You know a good place, then? I'll pay.”























now playing...







Naked



FINNEAS


































































♡coded by uxie♡

 





/* ------ left side ------ */




/* ------ left side info ------ */
mood ...

location Emergency Room

outfit Sad cold boy

fun fact

tag weldherwings weldherwings qunqun qunqun floralmoon floralmoon


Max Berkowitz




/* ------ right side ------ */



Josh's fingers intertwined with Max's, their palms gently pressing together. There was an exchange of body heat, Max's cold fingers slowly warming up. It seemed like they fit perfectly together, like they were made for each other, and Max knew that it was just a cliche and his senses playing tricks on him… but damn, he was so caught up in the high that every little coincidence of their touch felt like destiny.

The connection was strong enough to be an armor against the fear, and the guilt, and the confusion. He didn't have to feel it. All he had to feel was this.

Hand-in-hand, the two boys made their way back down the hall, back into the room where Graham was being held prisoner to IVs and monitors and bandages.

Max had not yet seemed to notice how it might seem a little bit… odd for the two of them to walk back in holding hands after running out of the room for several minutes.

"Hey guys," Max waved, his other hand still holding onto Josh as his lifeline. "Sorry that I… I just had to use the bathroom and I ran into Josh, and… hey Graham, how are you feeling?"

Graham looked a little better… at least, considering how much agony he'd been in when Max rudely ran out of the room. Maybe some alone time with Abby, without the two klutzy teenage boys, had been more therapeutic. Still, though, seeing Graham pale and despondent in a hospital bed was such a far cry from the brash shirtless man he'd met at Josh's church. Max had no way of knowing what it actually was that Graham was going through (and "shovel accident" seemed increasingly unlikely), but Max knew very well what it was like to be hiding pain for the sake of others.

He didn't want Graham to feel like he had to bottle everything up for Max's sake.

How hypocritical of Max, really, to expect that everyone be making the best decisions for their mental well-being, while he apparently thought it was perfectly alright for himself to hide all his troubles away in the closet and lock the door.

He gave Josh's hand a soft squeeze, for reassurance, glancing up at his eyes like he'd done before in the hallway.
He never wanted to let go of Josh. It was like it was the only thing keeping him above water.

"If it helps, as long as you're stuck here, i can leave early from school to check in on you. My parents won't mind. Besides, I think I was thinking of quitting horticulture club anyway. They don't really… well, it'll be okay. I promise. I'm used to this place." He really didn't know if it was helping to keep offering favors and assistance to Graham. Would Max have wanted someone to do this when he was in the hospital, or would he have just wanted to push everyone away? Max couldn't answer that question in his head.

As long as Graham knew that Max was here, that he cared, and that it was safe to ask Max to help out, it didn't matter if he said yes or no. Maybe just offering was doing a little good.

"I just want you to be okay, Graham. Not that anyone is ever okay, or that anyone is never not okay … not that I think… but I care about you, right? And Abby cares, and Josh… all of us. We're all here."





/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
Last edited:
MOOD: Guilty

OUTFIT: Whatever

LOCATION: Jolexei apartment
basics
MENTIONS:


INT:

Josephine tamarapasek tamarapasek

tags
TL;DR:
tl;dr
Alexei Milyukov
Chin up and we'll drown a little slower
An olive. Apparently, his baby was now the size of an olive. Alexei only knew that because Josephine had relayed this info, presenting him with a printout of the sonogram she'd gotten earlier. Alexei had gazed at it proudly with a wide grin before affixing it the refrigerator door, internally chastising himself for missing the appointment due to some stupid job for Kaz that just had to get done that day. He could only admire the blobby little image of their precious child from the photo and vowed to move heaven and earth if he must to make it to the next one.

Missing Jo's appointment wasn't the only thing bothering him. Alexei still hadn't clued her in on his "profession", and lying to her was taking its toll day by day. Especially now that they were expecting. He'd known since their first date that he wanted to be with her, but now things had gotten Real on a whole new level. But how could he tell Josephine that her baby daddy was a thief? What kind of a man, a father was that?

Not only that, but keeping Josephine in the dark seemed vital to keep her safe from any fallout just in case the shit really hit the fan. The last thing Alexei wanted to do was make his innocent girlfriend an accessory to his crime-ridden lifestyle. This way, at least she had plausible deniability.

It was the night of Mateo's play, the anti-drug propaganda piece some church lady had organized for the high school kids to perform. Of course Alexei wouldn't miss it for the world, happy to hype up his little brother's acting debut and check out what was sure to be an unforgettably awful yet hilarious work of art. Instead of his usual merry self though, he'd been quiet and increasingly gloomy as the day wore on. Now unable to hide the abashed look he wore as he plopped down on the bed with a heavy sigh, watching Josephine pop her earrings in before the mirror. The guilt over his deceit had reached a breaking point, and he knew he couldn't go on any longer without telling Jo the truth, no matter what might happen if he did.

"Hey..." He began gently, slipping his arms around Josephine to catch her as she flitted by to grab a tube of lipgloss from the nightstand. "Listen, I...I gotta tell you something," Alexei continued, pulling the brunette into a loving embrace, head resting against her chest. Holding her tight as if it would somehow stop her from walking out on him. A hand absently rubbing her belly as he contemplated the best way to break the news to his beloved princess that her Prince Charming was a dirty, mobbed-up criminal.

"I'm not the guy you think I am," He mumbled softly, too ashamed of the truth to say it with his chest.
code by valen t.
 





























SEPTEMBER 26TH.

Riddled with alarm, Dante’s shell of composure had chipped. Chasing passersby with the eyes of the hunted, the lawyer had been reduced to nothing but a nervous hummingbird. Fluttering with paranoia, a change the klepto hadn’t expected.

“I’m… I’m not actually…”

A career built on proving cases and here he stood, struggling to make logical arguments. This man, Ren had to remind himself, was a professional.

Knowing the word primed on the silver of their forked tongue yet unwilling to give a single inclination he knew what it was, Ren waited. Expectant silence holding heavy through Dante’s suffering, letting them choke like a recorder on spools of film, too amused to allow reprieve. Admittedly, a little bit mean; watching someone who must treasure control be batted around like a half-dead mouse.

In contrast to the tenterhook floundering of the lawyer, Ren had never given much care for others' perceptions. Love or hate, invited or cast out, consistently ablaze in his own unruly beliefs. It was, at least, one perpetual thing about him.

Amidst the clamour of Dante’s crashing and burning, Ren’s hand was held in temporary suspension as the lawyer tried their play at coherency. No curt slap or shove of the chest to his advances, only a gentle pull to free fingers from necktie. Eyes lingered the strange action before focusing back to their word-choice.

“Slow down Hotshot, I didn’t say anything about a date.” Taking all the likes of the Cheshire cat, features narrowed with glee. “Strange thoughts for someone who’s, not actually.” He was winning. Winning what? He didn’t know. But he was winning.

“I think you’ll lie no matter what. Isn’t that how lawyers work?”

Isn’t that how everyone worked.

Curly hair combed for what must have been the seventh time, their cessation of the hetero act came with a nice surprise. They’ll pay. Well hello. Ren’s new favourite person for the next 24 hours had been found.

“Course I do. Ever been to Stardust Diner? They have tall booths for us to discreetly make-out in.” There was a brief but intentional pause, then a smile. “I'm just playing. They put free marshmallows in the hot chocolates.”

It was a regular shine towards trouble, conspiring in mischief and anything but the drawl of boredom. A hot chocolate order to put the longest novel to shame, because why not combine every ingredient available. A hot chocolate made with whole milk, brown sugar, extra cream, a scoop of vanilla bean powder and topped with whipped cream, dark caramel, chocolate powder, a wafer and the free marshmallows.

Ren thought it was beautiful.

Seated in the diner, all tacky teal flooring and strawberry lighting, an air of contentment had settled the klepto. Chasing the mixture around the cup with his spoon whilst watching the conundrum seated opposite, he felt permitted to ask questions.

When a stranger pays bail and a horrific combination of a drink, snooping should be free range. An interrogation of his own accord.

“So, my buddy Dan.” A foot nudged into Dante’s ankle with the dual intention of breaching their personal space and getting their attention. “You from around here?”























now playing...







It Will Come Back



Hozier


































































♡coded by uxie♡

 
Suicidal Ideation, Death​
















Ship In A Bottle



fin








Graham Byrne







There was no escape.

“... no… no… everyone wishes that we died together…” Graham mumbled. “She… instead of me. It would’ve been more poetic if we went out together… It would’ve been less messy… we were created together, we should’ve been destroyed together.”

“... I didn’t even know that we could be separated like this… They thought I was her and she was me, I thought that at worst we would drift apart over the years. I didn’t know that… I thought she was stronger. I thought that she could survive anything. She burned… She burned everything around her, but she burned so brightly. I thought… I thought… surely the dimmer, smaller star would die first.”

“I was the melancholic one… and she was the strong one… How did she die and how did I live. How do I not see the pain caused by my existence.”

And then Josh and Max came back into the room. And Graham immediately seemed to cut off any openness as he tried to pull himself back together. The effect lessened quite a bit by red rimmed eyes and a paler pallor.

“... hey.” He mumbled.

“I just want you to be okay, Graham. Not that anyone… We’re all here.”

The anxiety rambling was too much for Graham’s nerves. He was staring directly down the barrel of anxiety and remorse and definitely not wanting to be there.

“... you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.”

A simple statement

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Literally stop talking.

“Go… like… play sports or something.”

Two sentences too late, Graham shut up once more.






/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
Last edited:





























SEPTEMBER 26TH.

He made the wrong decision.

There was immediate regret to his agreement to the date. Saying he’ll pay. What was he, a fucking sugar daddy? He was rich enough for it, but he felt a sudden level of grime settle across his skin at the idea of paying this man for sex, the bribery of whatever caffeinated drink of his choice he was about to consume.

“Ever been to Stardust Diner? They have tall booths for us to discreetly make-out in”

A thud of terror running through him. No. Absolutely not. Not in public. Coffee? Whatever, Ren looked like the type to be a criminal, with a long history of not being very law-abiding. There was some plausible deniability that he had contacts in the states, and Ren was definitely one of them. Yep.

Making out?

“And presumably dick sucking.” Came the off handed response in order to mask the nerves that were just lit on fire by the comment. The prior handsome and pretty boy comments decidedly more in akin to his sense of humor rather than actual bits of flirtation.

So here he was, in a bad part of town that he was absolutely positive had to be a Bratva front or something with a not-date dear lord hopefully not a known escort. Watching the criminal list off a series of ingredients that had to be truly and awfully ridiculously expensive for the sake of spite.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards into a smile. Yeah, he’d been expecting that from a man who he’d essentially bribed into not putting charges on his brother.

“Disrespecting the art of the hot chocolate like that. You make me sick.” Straight faced, deadpan. Definitely a dry, somewhat mean sense of humor rolled off of him. He didn’t actually object, though, to the idea of having to foot that bill. A deal was a deal, after all.

He himself ordered a black coffee. If they had espresso, give it another shot to throw in there… And two shots of whiskey, he flashed his ID at the waitress in a proclamation of being over 21.

A glance around, and unfortunately Ren had been somewhat right with the diner’s booths inviting an air of privacy. Nothing was ever private though. He’d known that for a long time. And the tall booths just made him more claustrophobic at not knowing who exactly was around them at all times. Who was watching them talk.

A touch to his leg made him jolt back into paying attention to Ren.

A pause. A pull at his lips that could’ve been a smile. “Sounds like a first date question.”

A dodge.

“I thought you didn’t want this to be a date?”

Really dodging.

The waitress came with their drinks, just in time for Dante to be able to escape out of dodging more personal questions. A judgemental stare at Ren’s monstrosity as it was placed down upon the table. “That’s going to taste like shit.”

The coffee was put down in front of him, black liquid courage staring at him in a horrible mix of aphrodisiac and relaxant.

It went immediately down the hatch. Nerves barely even quelled, but his tongue now definitely looser. Everything was just a little bit too restrictive on him, so he reached up and loosened his tie, unbuttoning his vest while he did so. Mildly and comfortably disheveled, Dante’s mouth started moving before the multiple filters decided to come into place, out of both sheer nervous energy and also the alcohol slowly filtering its way through his system.

“Is now a good time to tell you that I’ve never done it with another guy before or are you supposed to learn that once we get back to your place.”























now playing...







Naked



FINNEAS





























































♡coded by uxie♡

 







abigail hargreaves






"I can't imagine how hard that would be on a person..." She trails off, as she was an only child, there was no way for her to even grasp the concept of losing a sibling, let alone a twin. Abigail's hand rubs Graham's should as he continues on, saying that it would've been better if it was him that went instead of her.

She wasn't the best at comforting others with words, so the best she could really do is just be present. In one last shot of verbally comforting the man in front of her, she speaks up, "I think you're destined for great things, Graham. I'm so lucky to have met you. I know it's easier said than done, but things do get better and I think opening up about this should help to start."

At that moment, in the split second of silence that the two were having, Max and Josh walked back into the room. Abigail noticed how Graham had completely cut off the conversation that the two were having at the time. This would probably be the last time the two spoke about his past, which stung, but there was no reason to push for the man to open up again about such a hurtful time in his life.

In a whispered tone, Graham had greeted the two, turning at her waist, Abigail looked back at them and noticed they were holding hands, this caused her to smile. Max begins to explain where he had gone, and then it turned into him trying to comfort the Irishman as well, reiterating that the group of three do care about him.

Abigail started translating to Max what Graham was saying, but she stopped when the man got to the playing sports part, because well..

She honestly wasn't sure.

Maybe it was because it took a second to actually register where the statements were headed, but there was no way for her to take back the first two sentences she signed.

A sigh once again escaped the girl's mouth, lightly shaking her head, almost in a disapproving way of what she had just done. "Look, Graham," She began speaking, but before she got too far, she realized she wasn't signing. Her hands come up to display the words coming from her as she continued, "If we didn't want to be here, we wouldn't be. We are here because we genuinely care about you and your well-being."

Was that too harsh? It couldn't have been, she was just trying to reassure him that they were there to stay, or at least for as long as they could without getting in trouble with their parents. At this point, Abigail wasn't completely sure how to get Graham to understand that they really did want to be there, no strings attached. "We'll be here as long as YOU want us to be here."






/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 





























SEPTEMBER 26TH.

Ren’s day was going suspiciously well.

Excluding losing his job and getting punched in the face (small, common hindrances), he’d been saved from cruel plays of the law and dealt a hand of unparalleled hot chocolate. He assumed with Dante’s attire and career that they were well off, comfortable, at least, to throw cash in the wind at a terribly expensive abomination such as this; Ren’s disrespect to the art of hot chocolate.

Maybe too nice to say no to the eulogy of ingredients or maybe too nice to go back on their agreement. Instead, Dante provided the regular scheduled smile of poised serenity. Carefully sectioned, carefully controlled, carefully perfect in every way that is acceptable.

Ren didn’t like it.

Ren wanted this guy to Molotov a vehicle.

To see something more than passive robotics, to snap away from the relegation of duty that held steadfast like a wishbone, something outside of a rational sculpture— they just ordered whiskey in their coffee.

If that was what it took to get the man to stop scouring eyes over the diner in search of cloaked strangers with daggers, Ren wasn’t about to object.

Their avoidance, the thin of their smile, too pleasantly restrained. A lack of answer that didn’t bode well for an overthinker, shifty for a question so simple. Embers of curiosity meeting paranoia, Ren had intended to wait, dauntless and unwavering till he got a proper answer. But the topic was an easy draw to his habit of pedantics.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want a date.” Well, Ren realised, now it sounded like he did want a date. “Not that I do.” That just sounded mean. “Not that you’re not dateable,” please stop talking, “it's just–” Pulling attention away to pin them on the arrival of drinks, the klepto was thankful for their timing, and less thankful for Dante’s input.

That’s going to taste like shit.

Excuse me.

Onyx eyes flickering up to find the present company looking disapprovingly at the hot chocolate, a frown crossed Ren’s face. He wondered, briefly, if Dante was the type to order the same thing everywhere he went.

“How can you say you don’t like it if you haven’t tried it?” Nudging a lump of white onto the spoon, Ren’s arm reached to plop the little sweet on the saucer of their coffee cup. “Cheer up, have a marshmallow.”

Ren had tasted worse; an elixir far too rich in a cup far too small. With Mr Judgemental in attendance, he’d stifle any expression that could be interpreted as distaste just to prove them wrong. Ren did not drag the talking wallet all the way here and order this monstrosity just to succumb now.

In his concentration to sip away at the concoction, the haste and notch of disarray possessing the lawyer had almost been missed. Necktie loosened and the vest connected no longer, Ren’s focus impulsively lingered. Which he supposed was probably the unintended effect, dragging his eyes away through sheer force of will. Being a good Christian boy. Or something. He’d never been to church. Amen to the half naked man and whatnot.

But not even the good Lord himself could prepare Ren for their next sentence.

A repeat to their abrupt “dick-sucking” comment from earlier, Ren had been struck silent as a grave. Spoon hovering in air, a blank stare and long seconds of processing. I’ve never done it with another guy. Disarmed and thrown into orbit, the blasphemy had him considering the outcome of what he was even doing here.

Only when cream sliding from the spoon hit the table with a wet splat did Ren appear to re-join the living.

“Never done it with another guy?!” Exclamation rebounded the Diner, drawing eerie silence and turned heads from neighbouring tables. An afterthought to keep a certain measure of discretion arrived seconds too late. “Skiing!” Ren would clarify with a cough and sheepish scramble for remedy. “Skiing with other men! I– I have lots of ski friends. That are men! Yes.”

Only once suspicious attention recoiled back to fries and milkshakes did Ren posture like a bird of prey. Arms flat to table, head hunched low and staring at Dante with enough intensity to boil an egg.

“Not ever?!” He’d hush with exasperation. “What about College? Don’t people do crazy things there?” The mortification of saying it aloud, a confession admitted this late in the game, had a sudden smile emblazoning Ren’s face. Breaking into a snort that travelled tremors through shoulders, he’d struggle to bite down the ugly snickers bubbling in his throat.

“Listen Toots, it’s really not that different.” Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh at the inexperienced man. “But there’s no need to worry, you’re in good hands.”

A pause, a revision of that word-choice.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Another pause.

“Yes I did.”























now playing...







It Will Come Back



Hozier


































































♡coded by uxie♡

 







joshua jones



  • .



As the pair of them walked back into the room, Joshua made sure to be at least two steps behind Max. Like a child cowering behind their parent as they entered into strange, unknown territory. Despite the apparent height difference between the two boys, he was still using Max as a… Shield? No, that wasn’t the right word for it. For protection? But what exactly was he seeking protection from? Well, the tall, ginger-haired brute who laid in bed, who had the muscles and agility to reach over and strangle a teenager to death. It was no myth that Graham wasn’t the greatest nor biggest fan of Joshua Jones, stemming from their experience in Bible Study. Was there any possibility that Joshua could change his mind about him? Sure, he wanted to try - but was this also the right moment for something like that?

Obviously not.

Approaching Abigail and Graham, he listened carefully to the anxiety-riddled sentences as he now stood side by side with Max; The older male stating that they didn’t have to be there if they didn’t want to. Abigail turned to Max, signing out the words that was being spoken. However, she came to a pause as Graham mentioned, “going to play sports”. Did Max play sports? Joshua thought to himself, curiously looking at the boy. It seemed as if he was learning all this new information about the kid. First that his father had worked in oncology, and now that he was involved in some sort of sports? Joshua had always wanted to play some sort of sports or join some sports team. But after his brother, Aaron, had dreams of becoming a soccer player and expressed them to his parents, he was told that if he did that he’d burn in hell. That anything that sought out the glorification of person rather than God was sinful, and he would never reach paradise with Jehovah. Quite extreme, yes. And it was enough to scare not only Aaron, but the remaining Jones children.

But upon hearing ‘go and play sports’, and automatically assuming that Max did in fact play some sort of sport, Joshua felt a sense of…. Well… happiness? Joyed that the boy had something to call his own? What confused him in this moment, however, was when Abigail didn’t sign the sentence. Did she simply not know how to sign the words? Oh, actually, that sign was very easy. So, in an attempt to help the girl out, Joshua released his hand from Max and began to sign to him. Go like… play sports or something he signed to the boy without a care in the world; obviously thinking that it was a good thing that Graham had just said. However, he added on a sign at the end; You play sports? He signed curiously.

Having moved his hands to sign for Max, he felt awkward just standing there now. Would it be odd for him to take hold of Max’s hand once more? So, instead, he went back to his posture from before; crossing his arms over. Abigail continued to speak to Graham, signing the rest for Max, and insisted that they were all there for him. At this current moment in time, Joshua felt like it would’ve been appropriate to agree with the sentence. To add onto the fact that they had literally ran away from such a huge responsibility to come and be at his bedside. That not only he, but Mary, would be lying to his parents in order just be here to show some sort of support. But, after the fiasco of just existing in the same room and making the machine flat line, Joshua felt that remaining silent was probably the safest option for everyone right now. So, he stood there, closed-lipped, arms crossed, and nodding at Abby’s statements.







/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 





























SEPTEMBER 26TH.

Another pull at his lips as Ren floundered about, yes, he was feeling better about clawing back any kind of control that he had. Digging his heels in and getting some kind of traction.

And then he opened his mouth and spewed out some words.

The shame that seemed to run in his face as silence simmered between the two of them. The two soon to be lovers sharing one singular moment of incredulity, a comical splat of white against the countertop. Dante shoveled the marshmallow he was given into his mouth, pretending to not gag at the horrible confusion of flavors that assaulted his tongue. It did, in fact, taste terrible.

“Never done it with another guy?!”

“Say it louder, I don’t think Vladimir Putin heard you.” Came the quick reply, a nervous laugh emitting from him like the wheezy coughs of a person who’d taken their first hit of a cigar. Eyes glancing about nervously at the strange looks they were now receiving. Two excuses given at the same time.

“We’re talking about getting suits fitted.”

“Skiing! Skiing with other men!”

“... We’re talking about ski suits getting fitted.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Not ever?! What about college? Don’t people do crazy things there?”

“... I was busy.” He said, and it was true. He was a bit busy being metaphorically fucked by a mafia and being blackmailed into a deeper and deeper spiral of depravity and crime that made his skin crawl if he thought about it too hard. “And I had a girlfriend.”

Screams echoed through his head for a moment, blood splattering across a concrete floor. A blankness in his face allowed for Ren to chime in once more very helpful as always.

“Listen Toots, it’s really not that different.”

“I see you’re getting more creative with the nicknames.”

“But there’s no need to worry, you’re in good hands.”

Blink. He let that one sit in the air.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Evoked an eyebrow raise from Dante.

“Yes I did.”

Dante gave the table a little bit of a slap in order to jar the awkwardness out of the conversation that had settled over the duo like a blanket.

“I’m going to go pay.” He stood and walked towards the cash register at the very front of the diner. The charm easily slid back into his personality as he charmed the waitress with a smile and a nice tip, in return receiving a napkin with a phone number tucked away into the breast pocket of his vest and a discount on the drink.

He returned, the smug control settled back into him once he managed to remove himself from the whirlwind of fuckery that was before him. Something deep rooting itself back into him.

“Well. I guess if you’re…” He gestured to Ren’s mostly finished hot chocolate. “Satisfied…”

“... I guess we go back to your place, then? I’m ordering the Uber.”

And so, they climbed into an Uber, though, this time Dante kept a hand on Ren’s knee, slowly creeping farther and farther up his thigh while he made pleasant small talk with the Uber driver and pointedly refused any attentions to Ren rather than the tease.

He stepped into privacy, locked the door behind him, gave a glance around the apartment. Removed his tie and discarded it somewhat haphazardly.

Dante reached up and put a hand behind Ren’s neck and pulled him in for the first of many aggressive makeout sessions. Surprisingly aggressive for his more mild personality.

[HELLO WE ARE SKIPPING THIS BIT BECAUSE WOOHOO]

Dante rolled off and took a couple deep breaths to collect himself.

Yep.

This was a mistake.

Glancing at his bed-mate, he was uncertain about the willingness of letting him stay the night or how particularly cuddly the man was.

Regardless, Dante rolled over and fished out of his pockets a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Slipping one between his lips and then offering the open box to Ren as he lit his second bad decision of the night with his other hand.

“Have a cigarette.”























now playing...







Naked



FINNEAS





























































♡coded by uxie♡

 





/* ------ left side ------ */




/* ------ left side info ------ */
mood ...

location Emergency Room

outfit Sad cold boy

fun fact

tag qunqun qunqun floralmoon floralmoon weldherwings weldherwings


Max Berkowitz




/* ------ right side ------ */


"You don't have to be here if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything."

Max lowered his head in shame. He should've known better than to think Graham couldn't see right through his frail attempts at encouragement. Max couldn't do anything to make this situation better. He knew it, Graham knew it, everyone knew.

Who the hell was Max to act like he had it all figured out, like he wasn't afraid? Served him right to get called out on it.

That was bad enough. But Max could've sworn Graham kept talking after Abby stopped interpreting. His lips kept moving while Abby only stared speechless between the two of them.

What had he said?

Maybe Max was just imagining things. Maybe he was going crazy and Graham hadn't said anything else at all.

He stayed quiet, his face burning as he tightened his grip on Josh's hand once more, trying to get back to the way he was feeling out in the hallway instead of the creeping insecurity that had started to wind its way back up his throat. His fingers rubbed against the back of Josh's palm, his thumb carefully hooking between his knuckles and holding tightly.

It didn't feel good to have his experience of the world censored by what his friends thought he should and shouldn't know. He didn't want to assume that was what Abby was doing. Maybe she just didn't know how to translate what Graham said. Abby would never purposefully leave him out.

Luckily, Josh decided to fill Max in, dropping Max's hand to sign the words more efficiently.

"Go play sports or something."

That was it.
That was what Abby thought he was better off not knowing had been said.

Max instantly turned crimson, making an odd strangled sound in the back of his throat.

The weight of it crashed into his chest like a concrete brick. He was already overthinking the whole thing before Josh even finished signing the sentence.

He didn't play any sports.
One time in 5th grade, his gym teacher made the whole class play kickball, and all Max remembered of that whole day was everyone arguing because no one wanted him on their team. After that, he'd never wanted to try out for anything ever again.

What was Graham trying to say? That Max couldn't play sports? That Max wasn't masculine enough? That Max was gay?
...Graham knew, didn't he?

"I actually don’t…" Max stopped mid-sentence, looking straight down at the floor.

He couldn't bring himself to admit that he didn't play sports.

Max was lucky he wasn't the one hooked up to a heart rate monitor right now. How he felt right now might have triggered another Code Blue.

"...It's okay. I want to be here, Graham." He said hoarsely, struggling to form the words correctly in his mouth. Max's speaking voice, formed from 9 years of speech therapy, had unique features and a pronounced lisp that got all the more noticeable when he was struggling to sort out his thoughts into 2 different languages. "I'm fine."

Max would've given anything in the world for Josh to take his hand again, but he didn't.

Maybe even Josh was too embarrassed to touch him after this.





/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 





























SEPTEMBER 26TH.

Volleying into a snowball they smacked back and forth, even for the likes of a tone-deaf Ren, the fumbling of their lie was incredibly painful.

Refined with yes and yeah as the final nails to their coffin of reason, the klepto was sure: nobody’s gonna know. Slinking back to pester the lawyer with further questions.

Brows pinched and eyes narrowed, he’d levelled Dante with a look reeking of confused disbelief. An explanation of busy and, god forbid, a girlfriend, was the poorest reason to miss out on whatever orgy fun-times college people do. Ren clearly never attended college, hadn’t even finished highschool, and formed all impressions of tertiary study from unrealistic films.

In the wake of Dante’s vacuous stare, mirror smooth and vacant of even their politesse smile, the lack of college experimentation surfaced one thought in particular.

Nerd.

Someone who hadn’t valued his hand remark, denying to feed a reaction outside of silence and an elegantly arched brow. Waiting in the suspension of uncomfortable silence, Ren, still sitting smugly, didn’t make a move to speak until they’d returned from their awkward flee to pay.

"I guess if you’re… Satisfied."

“A little.” The klepto would nudge the cup away in accomplishment, making a display of eyeing the lawyer up and down in wordless warning, not entirely, not yet.

Through their spending habits did Ren begin to dwell, an underlying worry of exchange; that a $20 dollar bill was going to be left behind in their aftermath. It receded from consciousness, eclipsed by the shoulder settling next to his and a five-fingered beacon of impropriety resting on a knee.

How cute.

A mockery to prior paranoia, Dante passed nonchalant conversation with the driver as the trivial touch, once the bravest step the lawyer had taken so far, scaled to a slow and measured ascension up Ren’s leg. Frustratingly paid no attention by anything but this hand, the narrowed gaze ired by blatant disregard communicated everything left unsaid.

Not cute anymore.
Stop ignoring me.

He’d like to grip Dante by the jaw and demand focus, yet at the concern of sending the closet-case scrambling from the car in public shame, resisted the urge. Daring only to inch closer in the seat, warm against their side in hopes imposing personal space would at least earn a peripheral glance.

Futile, apparently.

There was a brief intermission, with door locked and tie loosened, in which Ren wavered. Unsure how to approach it all with a touch of delicacy, Dante’s earlier reservations. Never done it with another guy. Surely, Ren had assumed, they’d like some gentle guidance in the matter.

But it was a thought so easily slain, hesitation cut free in the second of Dante’s approach. Unravelled with urgency, hand sloped to neck, nails at buttons and kisses full of teeth. Whether desperation or mania, they didn’t speak of it; disarrayed frenzy that corresponded not with a man of white collar and tie.

Telltale graces succumbing like an unspooling thread, finesse shattered to wicked hands and mouths; Ren and company were a well-rehearsed play. Beckoned to warmth when weary of cold, presence and touch were the only found remedy for subduing the glacial tundra dusting skin— if only for a moment. The need to imbue fractures with others was to acknowledge there were absences at all, but it was his stubbornness speaking, perhaps pride, that thought he was above needing anyone.

An interlude of wax to candle flame, a habitual undertow of want superseded most of Ren’s rational thinking. Stealing, common. Fighting, regular. Sleeping with a lawyer, unheard of. It was an impulse that decided to bring Dante here, but it was that same impulse that held dominion over the entirety of Ren’s life.

At least he could be grateful for one thing. It was not a police officer.

Eyes noted their turn, and much like a shadow amidst sheets, intended to follow. Faltering at the realisation they were looking for something, a steep drop and simmer of disdain weighed the corners of Ren’s mouth. Expecting the careless toss of a George Washington, premonition brought to fruition made vacancy for a solar flare of annoyance that sought to throttle the arrogant visitor in the bed. The misconception, being such a profound little idiot to not notice the signs—

“Have a cigarette.”

Oh.

Ren blinked. Glare blanking to the offered box of paper-wrapped tobacco.

Oh okay. No need to be dramatic.

“I knew you didn’t forget them.” Curling a finger beneath Dante’s chin in mild reprimand, the hand would just as quickly slip away to pinch not one, but two cigarettes. Tucking one behind an ear and the other between lips, at this point he’d learned to push his luck and get away with it, assuming Dante was just too agreeable to make a fuss.

“I’m taking tax,” Ren explained, “for lying to me.”

He’d enclose already limited space to purloin the flame of their lighter and insulate lungs with well-deserved smoke. Given that Dante hadn’t gotten up and fled at the first opportunity, Ren also took this as a silent invitation— an opportunity to linger.

He really was having a good day today.

Propped on an elbow and curving closer to graze fingertips across the plane of their clavicle and down their chest, Ren was mindless of how nails mirrored the delicate rhythm of their pulse. Spoken sleep-soft, the question was a distant surprise to even himself, a dawn-lit wisp outside of something obnoxious.

“How do you feel?” He’d wince at the sound of it, pressing cigarette back to lips to suffocate the impulse desiring to ruin and shred apart the fraction of decency. Following the intrinsic call to cast attention elsewhere, look over the corners of the hotel room that were suddenly more intriguing than the man laid beneath the warm pads of his fingers. A question a bit too tender, a bit too nice for Ren’s liking; yet begrudgingly necessary in a situation such as this.

Sweeping hair from their forehead and letting fingers toy with the curls, the return of focus was accompanied with a smile, a narrow of mischievous eyes.

“Do you think Vladimir heard us this time?”























now playing...







It Will Come Back



Hozier


































































♡coded by uxie♡

 
Suicidal Ideation, Death​
















Ship In A Bottle



fin








Graham Byrne







Graham scoffed as the placations went into place. The pity. The overblown politeness.

No.

Nononono.

No.

Don’t lie to him.

“Abi. I have eyes. You look… sad, empathetic, oh and there’s a bit of tense anxiety in your shoulders. You’re fighting a fight or flight response which is telling you that being here is bad. Him?” A gesture to Josh “He’s been thoroughly uncomfortable the entire time, nervous… Oh there’s fear. Determination. Resignment.” And then he looked at Max.

“Anxiety. Self-hatred. Which by the way has only been slowly increasing the longer he’s been standing there. Doubt… Awkwardness.” He laid his head back down. “You all should just… go outside and make the vine thing. That’s what kids these days do instead of sports, right? Vine? You guys should go be kids while you still can and just… not… force yourselves to try to be… here. For my sake or whatever. You don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here. I’m an adult, I’ve been by myself during worse.”

He closed his eyes again. "I don't want to have to pretend that I can't see how being here is negatively affecting you guys."






/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 





























SEPTEMBER 26TH.

Pleasure curled in Dante’s chest. Warmth pumping itself through his hollow empty being for a brief moment of relaxation as he took deep breaths of tobacco into his lungs. He dropped the items onto his clothes haphazardly.

Kind physical touch had always been a rarity, an ugly scar deep inside of him named “touch starvation” rearing its head as feather light touches ghosted his chest, making his heart hammer wildly as he blew smoke away from the face of his newest lover.

“How do you feel?”

The snippy snideness nearly peeked out at a distaste for familiarity and tender care, only barely blocked back at the last minute by a visible edge to the man’s voice. He’d earned at least one genuine answer, a rare moment of honesty, hadn’t he?

“... Like I’ve either just made the best mistake of my life, or the worst mistake…” He looked at Ren. “And that I’m on the precipice of a terrible revelation about myself.”

A humorless smile. Wide, showing off slightly crooked teeth. “How are you feeling?”

Light mockery in the way that he stressed the word, but the sentiment was there, nonetheless. He laid his head back as he took another breath of nicotine as hands started finding their way into the mess of curls that laid on his head, freed from their slicked back prison and becoming properly a problem - a halo of dark tendrils curling from his head going every which way. Far less slimy of an appearance, the appearance of a fountain of youth sprung upon him as the curls took about a decade off of the lawyer. A somewhat responsible, perhaps a bit kinky 30-40 something year old regressed back to a premature 27 year old who didn’t know what he was doing.

It seemed, though, that sentiment didn’t fit itself neatly across either of them as emotional vulnerability was brushed aside quickly by a joke “Do you think Vladimir heard us that time?”

There was a small huff of a chuckle, the clamping of unwanted emotions down before they could fully escape him. Full emotional honesty was something reserved only for… well, himself. Not for what could only be described as a slightly tipsy mistake.

Oh but what a mistake it had been.

He hadn’t felt this comfortably at peace with himself since… well. There was blood splattered against the ground. His chest was being pounded on as the woman screamed at him, hitting him.

Yeah.

He sat up. “I don’t think he heard us… You want to try again?”























now playing...







Naked



FINNEAS





























































♡coded by uxie♡

 







abigail hargreaves



  • .



Max agreed with Abby about wanting to be there for Graham, although Josh didn't speak up, she knew that we wanted to be there as well, even after the events leading up to this moment. "Abby, I have eyes..." The man laying in front of her started, he pointed out how each and every one of the group members looked uncomfortable being there.

"You look… sad, empathetic, oh and there’s a bit of tense anxiety in your shoulders. You’re fighting a fight or flight response which is telling you that being here is bad."

She sat there for a moment, soaking in what he had just said, he wasn't wrong, she did feel uncomfortable being there, the hospital itself as a whole brought back some dark memories from her past that she just couldn't give up. As he closed his eyes and gave his closing line, her gaze softens, "I don't want to have to pretend that I can't see how being here is negatively affecting you guys."

Sitting back, more mentally than physically, Abigail thinks for a moment, this place did suck, there was no denying that, but all she wanted at the moment was to just be there for Graham. "Do you remember that night we went star-gazing? I think about that night a lot, being able to see all those constellations and learning things I never knew about. I always admired your knowledge of space."

As her hands sat idly, thinking of what she was going to say next, her mind thinks back to that trip the two took to the park, having Graham point out Sagittarius as the first constellation to be named of the night, there was just something so inspiring about a person having vast knowledge of things. "It inspired me to do some research on space, I learned that the universe is observed to be 13.8 billion years old and has been expanding since its formation in the Big Bang." She continued signing for Max to be included.

Although it seemed like such a simple piece of information, it was something that Abigail thought about a lot, if something can exist for that long and be forever expanding, why couldn't she? Everyone could grow from their past, to become better than they were once before. There was never an endcap for how much you could develop as a person. So that's what she would do, and help others with as well, growing to become a better version of themselves, for as long as she could.






/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
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