feartherevper

[feartherevper]

@byacatalepsy @ofadan @addictingvictories

michellegomezofficial - Workshopping Scottish accents.

[feartherevper]

byacatalepsy‌:

it’s really not that difficult of a confession to make. even though, some might argue, putting your heart on your sleeve for a display like that has probably got to be one of the most frightening things someone can do. ( of course it is, it means admitting yourself into a position of vulnerability. ) he knows, realistically, it’s a dangerous weapon to put into another’s hands   —-   and yet. he has everything stirring through him to quench any worries and fears. he has this steady feeling of bright tranquility sweeping through his bones to reiterate it’s nothing but the right choice. when you live the way jaime kaplan has been living, to love is a privilege and a life vest dangled above turbulent waters as he’s about to sink and drown. HE COULD NEVER FEAR THAT. how could he? he’s just been murdered at his boss’ orders ( the man dictating his entire life, basically ) and, instead, he can only focus on the way al’s features soften and the way he smiles  —  in that way that makes jaime exhibit a mirroring of the action. maybe, just maybe, he had a feeling this would be the reaper’s reaction. and maybe this is why he had no qualms throwing the confession out into the air. ( oh, to love and to be loved. ) 

“ don’t make me repeat myself, ” he jokes, deciding he’s very fond of the trills traveling down his spine as alistair’s fingers find a home at the back of his neck. he’s still smiling, just slightly, when he joins their foreheads and breathes in the kind of comfort similar to that of a cool breeze when the sun is scorching your skin. it’s not epic, or tumultuous, or enveloped in a blaze of glory the way they decide their hearts might just find themselves aligned and magnetized one toward another. they’re old souls ( one more than the other ), understanding the power a stable foundation can have when your legs feel like they might give in. he doesn’t say anything else ;  there’s no need to say anything else. his arm moves around the reaper, his frame tipping in closer and allowing him to fall into a tentative embrace, his forehead seeking solace as it rests against al’s shoulder. at some point, the reaper became his pillar, his one definite constant while everything else in his life rapidly shifts and slips through his fingers. he shuts his eyes and, in the solitude of the darkness of his lids, with no other senses to run rampant, he can just feel him. he purposely empties his head of all the rampant thoughts, concerns, and questions that might put too much weight on this moment  —-  this moment of healing. he pulls back after that second that feels like a welcome eternity, drinks in alistair’s features, and mellows his expression with a rush of melancholy. “ it’s the one thing we have of our own, right? ” where everything else is dictated by duty, and rules, and others pushing them around as pawns on their table. there’s a hollow sadness to that truth, but he finds that he can also draw some strength from it. 

“maybe it was your one shot to reconsider.” he jokes back. there’s a certain feeling of HAPPINESS bubbling under alistair’s skin. a kind of happiness that lived buried deep inside of him – one that for the most part, was only sparked when something absolutely superficial came to him. ( yes, an eternal conversation of life and death, and someone smart enough to follow his pace. or the meaning behind an artist’s masterpiece and what brought them to splatter the colors, and stroke the canvas in the way they did. ) but that was all it did. a scratch on the SURFACE. nothing ever enough to go deeper and pull it out of the encased corners of his very being. unbeknown to them, jaime had gone on a dive and slowly pulled them to the surface. with every word he said, every touch, every smile, and the soft spark of his eyes. every single detail building up to the moment where he realized exactly what had happened. that alistair, had in fact, started to care and LOVE jaime in a way he wouldn’t have allowed himself to do before. it’s not a GROUNDBREAKING revelation, it’s not shocking, he doesn’t expect fireworks to go off and that everything would be fine in the world. the reaper is not that idealistic, but he knows. no, he feels – this is how peace feels like. jaime makes him feel all the positives in the universe. everything he was too stubborn, or perhaps too AFRAID to let himself feel. one thing is for sure, he’s not afraid of this.

he relishes in the silence. the protective barrier they have from the world at the moment as he feels jaime’s arms around him, as he gently leans his cheek against his head. his thumb slowly stroking the back of his neck. al figures, he could stay in this embrace, sitting in silence, for eternity if he could. a soft sigh leaves his lips at jaime’s question – in a universe ruled by many powerful beings. where their choices seemed to be taken by others rather than themselves. this is a hard-hitting one. his lips curl up in a short smile, alistair is not oblivious as to what the meant. “yes,” his hands enclose around his face, the caress of his jaw as he looks into jaime’s eyes. with something akin to reassurance and finality. “this. us. it’s ours.” a beat, as he lets the meaning of his words settle. as he leans in to shortly press his lips against jaime’s. not for the first time, and certainly not for the last time either. it’s like a sealed promise, a shared treasure that he swears nothing or no one else will be able to take it away from them. it lingers for a moment, his lips rekindling with jaime’s like someone coming back home. he only breaks it to look back at him, and make a final promise. “i’m yours.”  an assurance that goes beyond his words and feelings. that despite everything, jaime would always have someone to go back to, no matter how long time passes. no matter where they might be.

[feartherevper]

it’s not that he’s been paying attention to the stranger's woes -- alistair can only care so little about whatever problem a mortal is having in their existence. though there’s always that moment when a penny drops. it takes a second, for al to detect it. two to look over the BROODING GIANT. three for him to raise from his seat and go all the way to his seat. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” yes, it’s dramatic, and judgemental. because for what it’s worth, alistair is REALLY judging him right this moment. “the beautiful wig.” because screw zain’s problems about some living situation. it’s the HAIR what matters here. reaching out he gives a short pull at the darkened hair as if that would reveal the real wig underneath. of course, it doesn’t budge and al sighs in defeat, crossing his arms over his chest. “you traded that for some INCHES. i hope it was worth it.”  

          he  doesn’t  hate  having  roommates.   in  concept,  it’s  nice  knowing  that  there’s  someone  else  in  the  house  —  that  if  you  crave  conversation,  or  acknowledgement,  there’s  someone  who  might  be  able  to  oblige.   what  he  doesn’t  like,  however,  is  frequently  running  into  people  coming  and  going  at  all  hours  of  the  night  and  setting  off  the  floodlights  at  the  back  of  the  house.   neighbors,  you  might  call  them,  but  he’d  say  it’s  more  like  freeloaders.  he  might  not  need  to  sleep  but  he  still  finds  the  lights  flickering  on  and  off  a  nuisance.    so  much  so,  that  he’s  currently  sat  at  one  of  the  tables  at  chateau  dough,  working  his  way  through  a  box  of  donuts  and  complaining  to  anyone  within  earshot  about  his  grievances.   “  —  i’ve  even  looked  into  evicting  them  but  you  can’t  evict  someone  who  lives  in  an  underground  bunker  that  shouldn’t  even  exist.   there’s  no  paperwork. ”    he  lets  his  head  fall  into  his  hands,  suffering  a  sigh  before  raising  it  again.   “  i  hate  humans  and  their  stupid,  ineffective,  laws. ”     finally,   something  that  feels  normal  again  —  FAMILIAR.     

[feartherevper]

he could feel the metaphorical buzz inside his bones, the sign going off that a large number of people was about to die. THAT wasn’t the annoying part. no, who cared about the pestering labor that came with being a reaper? certainly not alistair. what ANNOYED HIM SO MUCH was that his new ( freshly stolen ) phone STOPPED WORKING out of nowhere and he still couldn’t teleport out of this place. al didn’t even flinch as someone stumbled over the bar, and seconds later hit the ground. “save your gasps, he’s not DEAD DEAD.” the guy was probably just drunk. a pause. “nevermind, he is.” whatever would be done. 

[feartherevper]

ft - @zcinx

just loki and thor things

[feartherevper]

[ redacted number ]

jaime: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/7d/bb/9e/7dbb9e8d2a45718d1b6d1f2cc9384f9a.jpg

jaime: you stole a phone? and they say romance is dead

jaime: you're ridiculous. thank you.

jaime: and you ARE prettier than zayn

jaime: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d3/ab/fe/d3abfedce8b8d0dacda5dac8c3b394de.jpg

al: Oh so you have too! I'm taking them.

al: As soon as I can figure it out. Whatever.

al: Only the best of my deeds for you ;)

al: Stop you're going to make me blush.

al: https://data.whicdn.com/images/320720212/original.jpg

al: This is how I am without you here. https://ih1.redbubble.net/image.743496436.1960/flat,800x800,075,f.u1.jpg

[feartherevper]

“and to say i could’ve seen it all -- a CHILD AT A BAR.”  the reaper still couldn’t fathom why mortals continued bringing more people into this world as if OVERPOPULATION wasn’t a thing. what did if have to offer anyway? CAPITALISM? LOSS? DEATH? the concept of what made them even want them was a huge question mark. hey, perhaps this child would avoid ALL of that. right. “what is he even scared of?” 

when this s t o r m came rolling in, freya was t e r r i f i e d, not for herself but for her son, for her niece and all of her other siblings. after having been able to get someone to make up some f o o d for nik, who was now laying against her in the makeshift pallet she set up for him to go to sleep. the witch gently stroked her sons hair until she heard someone coming, her hues lift to meet the other and she moved out of her sons grasp carefully while putting a finger to her lips to signal s i l e n c e. once she was up freya smoothed her pants, boot clad feet carrying her to the other side of the room. “ sorry, he’s just in a very scared state and i just got him to agree to sleeping.”  @apxstarters​

[feartherevper]

despite the situation-- he was in a GOOD MOOD. it was only annoying not being able to teleport for GOD KNOWS WHY ( yes, god. he was totally pinning this on god. ) on the bright side, his only concern had been kicked out of the window the moment he took some guy’s phone. the one he was currently looking at as he sipped on his margarita -- one specific picture he saw made him laugh. he wouldn’t say LOUDLY but apparently enough to make this one guy snap making him look up for a moment. “NO.” he felt the phone buzz in his hand, “in case you haven’t noticed-- you’re at a bar. people LAUGH." a little hypocritical of him when he’d probably snapped at people at bars at some points. who cared? it was a 50/50 situation when it came to al’s mood. “so go complain and sulk at that corner if you’re so bothered.” 

well a BAR was hardly the worst place to get stuck in. or maybe it was. maybe the heat would go out and they’d all freeze to death or some bullshit. their heaters couldn’t have been that powerful. but, at least he had something good to drink. knocking back another drink, he asked. “could you keep it down?” it was hard to take the little peace and quiet when you had so many people being so damn LOUD. 

[feartherevper]

[ redacted number ]

jaime: what

jaime: who is this ????

jaime: zayn from one direction?

jaime: fame really aged you

al: ZAYN????

al: I'M PRETTIER THAN ZAYN.

al: NO.

al: HOW DO I STOP THIS FROM DOING THAT?

al: Got it. No phone can beat me.

al: Now as I was saying...

al: Wow, JJ. I steal a guy's phone to text you, and you can't even remember my name :(

al: https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/001/274/892/50f.png

[feartherevper]

[ redacted number ]

al: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EXKJPtpWAAUzTU3.jpg

al: https://ih1.redbubble.net/image.743603998.5074/flat,1000x1000,075,f.u1.jpg

al: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/6a/7c/ca/6a7cca14dd62256fe14c2406d8031d03.jpg

al: https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/1146538213240184838/Sz1PRZ00_400x400.jpg

al: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DA6wNvKXcAE2VTs.jpg

al: I regret the moment I stole this mortal's phone.

al: Please, ignore all of that even if that last kid is the embodiment of how I look right now.

[feartherevper]

Gavin Leatherwood photographed for Schön Magazine

[feartherevper]

“you could say i desperately need one now.”  DEJA VU. al feels like he’s gone through this before. maybe in the imaginary scenarios, he suddenly found himself in when he could daydream. ( even if he’d argue he didn’t daydream. )  where he’d see his friend alive and well-- not DYING because of some hero time against a bunch of clueless hunters who thought could contain a reaper. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, PAIGE? the mortal dying for the immortal. sounded like a joke with absolutely no punch line. he stays grounded to his place, almost as if another movement and she’d be disappearing like the smoke that he blows out when the next question comes. “how long has it been?” since she died. since she came back. there’s a bitter taste somewhere, and some unresolved anger just waiting to go off. at her? at himself? at god and death?

“I swear why are there so many forms for applying for college? You’d think it was like applying to the fbi or something,” she said as she finally closed her laptop out of frustration. “That’s it, I’m done for today, I need a drink”

[feartherevper]

             “  green  is  such  an  ugly  color  on  you,  you  know. ”   all  the  same,  he  chuckles  low  under  his  breath  at  the  mention  of  the  phoenix.  he’s  been  lucky,  he’s  only  crossed  paths  with  the  kid  once,  but  whatever  crazy  he’s  been  up  to  is  something  he’ll  happily  leave  to  the  other  reapers  in  town.  (  yes,  he’s  trying  to  RESENT  supernatural  creatures  a  little  less  every  day  but  a  man  still  has  his  LIMITS. )   “  well,  tell  your  FRIEND  that  if  the  mystical  flames  somehow  don’t  burn  the  phoenix’s  clothes  when  he  comes  back  …  i’m  pretty  sure  a  little  snow’s  no  match  for  whatever  magic’s  at  play  there. ”   so  easy  answer  made  complicated,  as  he  always  does,  he  answers:  “  melt.  definitely. ”  maybe  he  should  force  the  conversation  back  to  what  they’re  here  for  –  their  purpose —  but  weirdly  enough  he  doesn’t  mind  this  whole  …  catching  up  business.  clearly  spending  so  much  time  around  humanity,  in  san  francisco,  has  scrambled  his  brains  and  overridden  every  iota  of  common  sense  he  once  possessed.   OH  WELL.

“WRONG.  every  color  looks  good  on  me.” the rebuttal comes almost instantly. almost like a please, zain. we’ve been over this already. which in hindsight-- they probably have. how many digs can they get at each other without them starting all over again when they’ve spent eternity together one way or another. NO HOMO. alistair’s face turns into one of disgust, “here is to the CLOTHES FRIENDLY FIRE.” because the last thing he’d want is to enjoy his phoenix roasted marshmallows with a side of phoenix’s ass. even if al was 98% sure it would be more uncomfortable for the guy than for HIM. at this point, he’s almost too used to zain’s elaborate answer, until he finally simplifies it. did he need to for al to understand? no. nevertheless, he appreciates it. to which, he only sighs. “it would’ve been too good to be true. PHOENIX SITUATION, can you believe it? he is a bigger pain in the ass than serial killers at this point.” and boy. were they surrounded by a bunch of lunatics. the soul in question though-- it was a surprise when they died of different causes. such was this case. the cold DID bother this guy to the point he died. a click of his tongue as if on shame. the soul was wandering around at this point, though al kept bare attention for it to not wander too far he’d have to collect it SOMEWHERE ELSE entirely. if they were firefighters, they would resemble a situation in which they decided to catch up as the building burnt in the background. 

[feartherevper]

silence is golden in most cases, while in other cases it’s simply the best option there is. it’s not that he’s incapable of putting together a string of coherent words, he often just chooses not to. because it’s the best option. ( if you have nothing relevant to say, say nothing at all. ) like in this case  —–  alistair is …  who knows how many thousands or trillions years old? he doesn’t need him to point out the obvious, that even though something is unfair, it doesn’t mean it can just end like that. that there are consequences, lots of them. he also doesn’t want to repeat himself ;  he said he has to stop running at some point, so he will. and then there’s this other reason: the way al’s demeanor falters and he somehow always seems to fall into fretful motions of panic and worry. he can’t help but think that’s not normal ( for a reaper toward some …  mortal ), but he also doesn’t want to be egocentric ( that would mean somehow calling himself special ). he hates doing that, but it also feels inevitable with the way al’s thumb draws soothing circles into the back of his hand as he cracks an obviouslyweighed joke. he manages a small lift of his lips too ;  it’s hard not to. at first, he’d purposely keep himself in line out of pure distrust and skepticism. now making his fondness known is only so easy because, at some point, he ended up realizing he’d trust alistair with his life.

should i ask why? it’s not a question that phases him. it’s expected, even though, for some reason, he expected al to be a bit more … scorned. he doesn’t seem to be  —  and that somehow only makes him guiltier. but the answer is pretty clear and it almost feels obvious and natural. “ why do we all do the crazy things we do? ” it’s not a singular answer, that’s for sure. he did it to find the truth. he did it because of instinct. he did it because of despair. and, of course, he did it for love  —-  whatever form it might have. no, he still hasn’t given that one the thought it deserves. and he’s not doing it now either. instead, it’s the common element between snapping his own neck to bring adan from the abyss and between this moment now, when he feels like he could face a battalion if it meant holding al’s hand through this night. he realizes he’s fallen into a realm of ponder and that his gaze has settled on their joined hands. “ crazy like wanting to screw over the boss that wants you dead. ” because of you. unsaid, for obvious reasons. because of the time spent with alistair, barcelona, all the stolen moments, all the secrets he’s spilled. they would’ve sparked dread, but now …  all he feels is frustration. not that he’s pissed off spades  —-  but that he’s still in his clutches. he lifts his gaze and, for once, acknowledges his silence is because he can’t pluck out the right words from a whirlwind buzzing in his head. his other hand lifts and settles by al’s shoulder, then tentatively travels upward, until it gets homely along his jawline, the same way he likes feeling the texture of a sculpture’s marble beneath his fingertips. so many things to say and express, about his fears, their journey, about why he wants to break free  —  for good. but it does, truly, only boil down to one thing   ———-   “ i love you. ”

it causes a slight STING. yes-- jaime had said that he wouldn’t die again ( not if he could avoid it, that was. alistair wouldn’t hold something that he couldn’t control against the other. that wasn’t fair. ) in this case, however, was something jaime himself had done. he’s not sure if there was an expected reaction or not-- truth was, alistair was only relieved at the end of the day, that jaime was alright. that he was standing and breathing as he knew him. why do we do all the crazy things we do? there were several reasons that could come to his head, but no matter how much he tried to reach out and pluck a reason from the metaphorical pool. they were too far to reach. and that was probably one of the things that had always interested him the most about jaime. even in the most ‘obvious’ of cases-- he never ceased to surprise him. from the mortal ( that only later they’d figure out together he wasn’t that much of a mortal ) guy that much rather stay in the shadows, to the one that found himself in the spotlight, saying things like screw over the boss. alistair’s gaze doesn’t stir away from jaime, not even as his is met. not even as his hand travels a path over his skin, like marking a route on a map-- one that would only lead you home. 

only with time, had alistair realized he’d never considered something or someone a home. not until now. his home was right here, suddenly letting a confession tumble down his lips. there’s still worry soaking alistair’s bones, but that goes behind a second or third plane, because only then does he realize it doesn’t matter. i love you. his face softens, only to give way to a smile. there’s a lack of snarky comments or poorly timed jokes to diffuse an uncomfortable situation. instead, he chuckles. this time is relaxed, it’s comfortable. his free hand rests on the back of his neck. “you love me.” it’s almost that for a moment he’s confirming it-- almost allowing jaime to be able to take it back. even if al is sure he won’t. he might be conceited, but at the end of the day-- he wasn’t stupid. it had always been something lingering in the back of his mind, something he knew would have to be brought up at a moment. but the timing was never right-- and only now, he realized what a fool he’d been for looking for a right time. that was probably the thing about love. there NEVER was a right moment, you had to take it, and make it yours. “if someone had told me, that curly-haired witch who looked like he wanted to have absolutely nothing to do with me-- would be saying this.” if someone had told this reaper that he’d let himself feel, as opposed to the millions of boring robotic reapers. would he’d been able to believe them?  “if someone had told me--” he brings his hand up, presses a kiss on jaime’s knuckles. “i’d love him the same way.” 

[feartherevper]

he’s heard the whispers-- THE HORSEMEN ARE COMING. ( a bad omen to most. to al? it was a pain in the ass. ) as long as DEATH didn’t start showing his face around, al would be pretty content. as content, as he could be, that was. it was bound to happen that he would run into one of them, sooner or later, right? it looked like tonight was that night-- as he observed WAR getting hit on. an amusing sight if you asked him. “you really need to work on your people skills,” alistair piped out of nowhere. the statement seemed fitting to both. the drunk man turned around to blabber nonsense in his direction, something that made al scrunch his nose as the pungent scent of alcohol hit him square in the face. with a roll of his eyes, the reaper stopped the oxygen from going to his brain for only a moment-- making the man pass out. “good to know you’ve all chosen to stop the OLD WHITE MAN fashion, it was getting... quite aesthetically unpleasing.” 

– &  Twenty minutes of incessant noise in her ear, drunken slurred speech all but being throw in her direction as the vampiress continues to ignore the patron. It seems that the man isn’t aware enough to realize if a woman flat out IGNORES you for minutes on end, she isn’t interested. Which unfortunately for him is going to end very poorly in about twenty seconds, if Claire’s instinct is right. “I’m telling ya honey, I’m meeting a FRIEND ‘ere – they ain’t going to be too happy to see you BOTHERING me.” There’s a spot in her peripheral vision of movement, proving that her instinct was certainly right.

[feartherevper]

“what? afraid of some trees?” sure-- the middle of the woods was a dramatic touch. that was alistair’s style after all. 

“so w h y is it that we met here? kind of cryptic.”  @apxstarters​

[feartherevper]

“if you say so, SWEET CHEEKS.” was there always a moment in which al would take a moment to not be randomly condescending? maybe tomorrow. “could you, maybe, do whatever you’re doing-- over there? the teenage angst is almost too much.” pot, have you met the kettle? 

“i’m not moping.” [narrator vc] he was moping. it was what happened when you realize the last six months of your life have been bullshit and you don’t quite have that pick-me-up just yet. when you were holding onto the last bits of your sanity all while saying ‘i’m okay’ on the constant. so yes, he was moping.