hiercphant

[hiercphant]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 widens further & further as dakota gives his concise explanation for the content of the story at hand, & the chuckle that accompanies it is genuine — a deep rumble emanating from a broad chest. he's opening his mouth to respond when their knees collide, & his eyes flick down to the point of contact as if it's seared him through his clothing, a flicker of panic igniting in his chest & most certainly crossing his face, too. gaze stays locked there, fingertips curling slightly into the pile of the rug beneath his hands as an addled brain scrambles to decide whether to move away or closer — so plagued by his own indecision that he nearly misses the other's next words, having to buy himself extra time to process them with a quiet, near-undetectable clearing of his throat. ( not quite completely inaudible, though — not to kota, anyways. ) “ unfortunately, i do, ” he adds, a simple addition to a very logical thought, & he can only hope he doesn't sound as distracted as he feels — adam's apple bobbing as he is finally, blessedly able to force himself to look back up, ultimately landing on a complete non-decision — leaving their limbs touching just the slightest bit. it would be odd if he pulled away, & even odder if he pressed closer, he tells himself. it's then that he finally tunes in to what exactly they're even talking about, & a warm expression turns mildly sour for a moment as he reminisces on the dozens of children he's had to interview over the last year in his duties as a paralegal — all the anger he's harboured on their behalf, knowing that they themselves could not yet conceptualize the horrors that they've endured, the injustices etched into the cards they've been dealt. the steps they'll have to take as adults to recoup their god-given losses before they even entered the first grade. still gazing sullenly at an inconsequential spot on the rug, lost in thought, when the slightest of shifts in dakota's essence catches his attention, & any resentment roiling under the surface vanishes in lieu of thrumming concern. perhaps it is the way lavender rouses, or the whip-crack of lightning that illuminates the room ( a harbinger for an impending, riotous thunderclap, which follows just a beat later ), but milo senses almost subconsciously dakota's discomfort before it even becomes visible. his fingers twitch in a synaptic reaction to the tidal wave of endorphins ringing alarm bells in his head, urging him to fix it. relax — fucking chill. it's not even like he's freaking out. why are you freaking out? he swallows again, the second time in less than a minute, & instead ekes out a breathy laugh. “ that would be different, though. ” voice low & steady, & perhaps it's a bit revealing; the crimson tinge of concern leaking into the soft, lapis-lazuli tone of curiosity & playfulness he had intended to use. but if his voice doesn't give him away, his touch certainly does — one of his hands moving from where it's planted behind him to rest on his own thigh, before moving slowly, slowly forward, trembling slightly as his fingertips make contact with the jut of dakota's kneecap, the gentlest of grazes as he strokes the pads of his fingers over the crest of the joint. meant to be present enough to be comforting, if dakota were to need it — but light enough to be negligible, if the thunder was less impactful than milo assumes it might be. a shy smile, then, head tilting as he finishes his thought: “ if it were your work, i'd want to read it. ”

the graduate doesn't usually allow himself the freedom to wander outside of the confines of his workspace, always busy scouting, always busy fighting. unless, of course, he's got his load cutout with avila's plentiful assignments; made to have you hunching & curating your thoughts until they're a muddle of exasperation & then ' AHA ! ' you've got it. &, well, this counts as the latter, doesn't it ? he's still working. he'd gotten his roommate to read it without asking, but that didn't mean he'd refuse a second offer. the deep timbre of a smooth voice is, coincidentally, an added bonus. merely an aide in cracking open brains different from his own, collecting opinions from the masses. obviously. he laughs, lavender reveling in the contentment that plagues her handler, twofold once she's pet. a wagging tail that thumps slowly against wooden floors. kota's expression mimics growing amusement at milo's tangent, a reaction that usually comes once a translation of ancient literature is rendered into a more tangible version. there's often a plethora of reactions from students. serving as an assistant had given him first hand experiences of a diverse crowd; from oo's & ahh's to this is boring and what was the whole point. if art truly reflected life, well this was one of its shining examples. ❝ the greeks aren't really well known for their feel - good stories, ❞ he chuckles, tucking a curl behind his ear as he leans forward; a whiff of vetiver & spice brimming his senses as he stretches his legs, knees colliding with the younger man's. ❝ but i think you'd know better than anyone that things aren't always fair. and some parents aren't meant to be parents. ❞ a quaint shrug, for a more modern logical approach. there's a sudden chill that strikes kota's bones, the imminent approach of declining weather that causes him to tense. thunder had been a work in progress, with its sound akin to the pipe bombs that had rained down so few years ago; an auditory trigger that drowns out a calm facade. lavender's hackles rise as she lifts her head up, sniffing the air for any sign of incoming changes. kota diverts his attention, honing in on milo's question with a thoughtful hum, always curious to hear the criticism of others on avila's peculiar choices. he decides for a more fun approach versus responding with any deep meaning, a little smirk pulling at the flush of pink lips. ❝ well, if i spent my time and money on a phd, i'd probably be just as insufferable about making you read my work. ❞

[hiercphant]

“   would   you   shut   your   fucking  mouth  ?   ”   words   rasped   out   through   gritted   teeth,   his   left   hand snapping   up   at   record   speed   to   grab   at   lucky's   jaw   in   a   bruising   grip,   four   fingers   pressing   hard   into   one   side,   his   thumb   digging   into   the   hinge   at   the   other.   in   one   fluid   movement,   as   quickly   as   he   gets   a   handle   on   him,   he's   spinning   them,   shoving   lucky   backward   up   against   the   bookshelf   &   surging   forward,   caging   him   in,   dropping   the   book   in   his   right   hand   in   favor   of   pinning   the   younger   man's   hips   to   the   wood   behind   him,   not   a   square   inch   of   their   bodies   left   unmet.    “   you   want   it   bad,   don't   you   ?   huh  ?   ”    spoken   low,   frighteningly   even   in   tone,   a   barely-detectible   tremble   to   it   to   match   the   way   his   whole   body   shakes   with   rage,   with   anticipation.    “   is   that   why   you   pull   this   shit   on   me   ?   'cause   you   can't   fuckin'   help   yourself   ?  ”    he   gives   lucky's   head   a   firm   shake,   like   some   disobedient   puppy,   gaze   flickering   wildly   between   lucky's   eyes,   then   down   to   his   lips,   unable   to   focus   on   one   target.   the   hand   on   his   jaw   moves   around   to   tangle   firmly   into   the   freshman's   hair,   pulling,   tipping   his   head   back   to   the   angle   he   wants.    “   look   at   you.   fuckin'   drooling   for   it.  ”    the   words   are   spat   out,   kal's   chin   jutted   slightly   forward   as   he   says   it.   taunting.   biting.   anyone   who   would   be   unlucky   enough   to   bear   witness   would   likely   think   to   call   security,   report   an   imminent   fight   —   but   one   thing   (   maybe   the   only   thing   )   he   &   luck   can   agree   on,   especially   right   now,   is   that   they're   better   off   left   to   their   own   devices,   preferably   behind   a   closed   &   locked   door.   they   need   this.   it's insane,   but   it   works,   &   kal   sure   as   fuck   does   not   have   the   mental   wherewithal   to   discern   why.   his   hips   rut   forward   without   so   much   as   even   a   subliminal   thought,   chasing   any   sort   of   relief   from   the   tension   roiling   under   his   skin;   lips   brushing   against   lucky's   as   he   speaks,   goads   —    “   you're   so   easy,   luck,   it's   embarrassing.   ”    

he can practically feel where all the tension lies, like a chiropractor tending to the swole of muscle that threatens to stiffen its victim for the rest of their life. he's applying pressure like a heated pack, air sizzling with the application against such cold skin. a snake charmer in his element as it rises up to strike with unrelenting force. in the same way it elongates it's neck to finally sink its fangs & pump venom into its opposition, kaleo's grip elicits an anticipatory smile from the mousey brunet. he's expecting to be shoved off, tongue flicking out to wetten the fat of his lower lip. intentions are clear within the stare that remains on kaleo's own washed out glare, one tainted with an all too familiar flicker of regrettable desire. the simple thought of fucking in front of daskalos' most prized prodigies is enough to earn a pleased grunt from a dry throat. kaleo's suggestions being lucky's own sick version of foreplay. a strange force that pushes them to the brink on a daily basis. one that should surely be studied. it should feel like too much work. it should be enough effort to push him away. especially after getting what he'd wanted. onto the next as always, satisfying the urge to try every flavor offered. a popular face among student body, earning shy giggles & disgusted scoffs that refuse to admit they'd succumbed to a night in his dorm. reactions that do nothing to steer him from what he was, what he'd been born to be. a hedonist, with the hubris that come with. yet kaleo stark remains an unsettling obsession. with sharp edges & a lack of respect for anyone that was deemed unworthy of it. the freshman included, who moves forward with a hand that slides down a toned torso, breath hitching in his chest as he's nearly there. the crudeness of rhetorical inquiry falling from the senior's lips only causes the parting of lucky's own, listening closely as he continues with this private performance.

[hiercphant]

“  𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐎𝐍'𝐓  𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐌𝐄  𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄.  ”  nearly  an  interruption  of  hadley's  level-headed  advice  with  how  quickly  &  insistently  the  words  come  out,  shooting  an  incredulous  glance  towards  his  companion  before  his  gaze  returns  to  his  phone  screen.  it's  honestly  a  display  of  immense  multitasking  skill,  how  he  manages  to  run  his  mouth  while  also  typing  at  fucking  lightspeed  —  crafting  an  essay  of  a  text  to  the  scourge  in  question.  “  it  was  so  fucking  annoying.  he  walks  in  —  ten  minutes  late,  mind  you —  yapping  about  how  his  grandma's  cousin  died,  &  avila  just  waves  it  off  like  it's  nothing  even  though  he  would  ream  anybody  else  if  they  showed  up  that  late,  but  that's  a  whole  other  fuckin'  thing  —  &  from  that  point  on,  for  two  &  a  half  hours,  he  made  it  a  fuckin'  mission  to  piss  me  the  fuck  off.  sayin'  shit  under  his  breath,  making  comments  that  are  obviously  targeted  at  me.  you  don't  get  it.  it's  in  the  shit  he  says,  the  way  he  says  it.  it's  like  nails  on  a  chalkboard  that  only  i  can  hear.  ”  he  sighs,  exasperated,  &  jabs  the  delete  button &  holds  it,  watching  as  his  veritable  dissertation  of  a  text  quickly  begins  to  disappear.  an  everyday  routine  for  kaleo,  at  this  point  —  showing  his  guts,  only  to  wipe  any  &  all  evidence  of  such  vulnerability  off  the  face  of  the  earth  before  anybody  can  actually  witness  it.  (  anybody  other  than  hadley,  he  supposes,  but  he'd  never  say  that  part  out  loud.  )  “  and  then  he  fuckin'  texts  me  afterwards,  says  he's  coming  over.  can  you  fuckin'  believe  ?  ”  he  conveniently  leaves  out  the  part  where  he  didn't  object  to  it  at  all.  “  i'm  gonna  block  his  fuckin'  number.  ”  &  as  he  says  it,  he  starts  typing  again,  eyebrows  furrowed  in  incensed concentration.

𝒻𝑜𝓇  :   @hiercphant  ( kaleo ) !

𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖗  :   3:00 pm .

𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟  :    bluto's , booth far toward the back .

 ❝ ─ or you could just like, leave little dude alone, ❞ they offer by means of remedying the situation; one that involves kaleo lamenting once more about the woes of entertaining one of daskalos' pestering freshman. it had been a topic of interest at first, but this now constant behavior of enthusiastic yammering on about how frustrating lucky was, had trained hadley's nerves to rise & surge with vexation at the very mention of his name. like a plot out of a horror movie: saying a certain word thrice & it appears out of thin air to haunt casual conversations. lithe digits are pinched around their stylus, moving it against the tablet screen before them as they continue editing a few photos for their first portfolio. an assignment that's proved a bit more complicated than usual in their final year.  ❝ the thing about free will is that you actually have it. ❞ he shakes his head, grumbling momentarily as the photo loads into an abhorrent color gradient, racking an irritable sigh.

[hiercphant]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓  𝐀𝐒  𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘  𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐒  𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅  an  absolutely  scathing  glare  from  hadley,  jynx  works  on  soliciting  one  of  his  own  from  kaleo:  bounding  up  to  the  taller  man  all  golden-retriever-like  &  practically  forcing  him  into  a  classic  dap-hug  combo,  accompanied  by  a  conniving  grin &  the  same  joke  he  always  uses,  since  it  never  seems  to  fail  at  getting  under  the  senior's  skin:  “  yo,  oh  my  god,  kaleo  stark  — huge  fan  of  yours,  can  i  get  a  selfie  ?  ”  he  ducks  away  just  as  kaleo  shoots  him  a  look  of  murderous  proportions, mischievous  grin  turning  somehow  simultaneously  both  unabashed &  apologetic as  he's  reprimanded.  no  mind  paid  to  his  government  name,  only  because  of  the  mouth  it  falls  from  —  but  nonetheless,  he  still  ducks  his  head  in pretend-guilt,  &  a  hand  moves  up  to  fix  the  back  of  his  beanie,  slinking  sheepishly  closer  to  his  love.  “  sooo  -  rryyy,  ”  he  sing-songs  as  he  rounds  to  hadley's  left  side,  slings  one  lean  arm  around  their  waist,  circles  around  to  crowd  in  behind  them.   “  i  just  can't  resist.  you  left  me  alone  for  two  whole  hours.  what  else  m'i  supposed  to  do  ?  wait  for  you  to  get  back  ?  ”  his  chin  hooks  over  hadley's  shoulder,  plasters  his  torso  against  their  back  &  presses  a  (  mostly  )  chaste  kiss  to  the  column  of  his  pretty  neck.  honestly,  thank  god  lucky  is  off  distracted  by  the  fuckin'  gumby  lookalike  at  the  moment  —  he  knows  that  if  the  freshman  had  witnessed  that  little  display  of  affection,  an  overdramatic  chorus  of  gagging  noises  would've  ensued.  at  that  thought,  jynx  shoots  a  glance  towards  his  friend  &  finds  him  currently  skating  in  slow  circles  around  kaleo,  their  conversation  too  quiet  to  overhear.  good.  jynx  wants  absolutely  nothing  to  do  with  that  mess.  “  plus,  the  last  time  i  was  in  one  o'  your  videos,  it  got,  like,  a  bajillion  views.  ”  nevermind  the  fact  that  it  was  because  kaleo  &  lucky  had  been  in  it,  &  the  internet  was  absolutely  eating  them  up  right  now,  but  hey.  jynx  has  always  been  a  tad  delusional.  he  loosens  his  grip,  circles  around  to  hadley's  right  side,  grinning &  gazing  up  at  them  all  wide-eyed  &  lovestruck.  if  he  had  a  tail,  it  would  be  wagging.  “  the  people  love  me,  h.  they  want  me.  i  have  a  certain,  uh  —  how  you  say  —  je  ne  sais  quoi.  ”

𝒻𝑜𝓇  :   @hiercphant  ( jynx & kaleo ) !

𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖗   :   12:00 pm .

𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟   :    skatepark behind saint george beach .

lengthy digits are wrapped around the camcorder, utilizing a more antiquated version of filmographie to give a nineties vibe to the shoot; the muse in question landing on the ramp's platform with a ceremonious thud. he moves to raise the lens up to finalize the shot when there's a shrill shout, & suddenly a face is in front of the cameras view with a wide grin, innocent in its expansion from ear to ear as jynx appears with his most favored companion. one that pushes his foot off the ground to roll forward with familiar laughter, hyena - like in sound as he claps a hand against kaleo & hadley's shoulders in hello, earning a devious side eye from the older man. ❝ theodore, hun, ❞ he coos gently, though anyone who knew better had been made aware that interfering with hadley's art was a quick fire way to get on usually controlled nerves. ❝ i thought i told you about interrupting me when i'm working. ❞ he continues flatly, lucky clicking his tongue in an instigative coo, shoving jynx forward so that he's no choice but to deal with the consequences.

[hiercphant]

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐍  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐇𝐈𝐒  ��𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄  has  been  kneaded  into  him  from  birth  due  to  his  parents'  line  of  work  —  an  ever-present  awareness  of  how  he's  being  perceived,  &  with  it,  a  carefully-constructed  nonchalance  towards  those  perceptions. a  steady  hand  on  the  optics  of  every  situation.  it's  all  about  control,  is  the  thing.  he  needs  it  —  needs  to  be  the  one  calling  shots,  even  if  he's  not  the  one  opening  his  mouth  to  do  so.  &  in  this  moment,  with  cold  metal  digging  into  the  space  between  two  vertebrae,  he  feels  control  slipping  away  from  him,  like  trying  to  catch  smoke  in  his  hands.  the  signs  are  barely  visible:  a  twitch  of  his  jaw,  a  flicker  of  rage  in  his  eyes  —  but  they  vanish  as  quickly  as  the  impulses  that  race  across  firing  neurons.  heat  blooms  under  the  palm  of  lucky's  hand  where  its  pressed  to  his  lower  stomach,  pinprick  pain  accenting  where  his  nails  dig  in.  without  so  much  as  a  flicker  of  preamble,  kaleo's  free  hand  wraps  around  lucky's  slim  wrist:  halting  him  —  but  not  rejecting.  because  kaleo  has  only  ever  cared  about  control,  &  not  the  slightest  bit  about  decency.    “  might  as  well  do  it  right  here.  ”    a  challenge  as  much  as  it  is  a  subterfuge.  firm  pressure  exerted  on  lucky's  wrist  has  his  hand  moving  southwards  —  if  lucky  wants  to  grate  his  nerves  by  playing  one  of  these  stupid  fucking  games,  so  be  it.  he  should  know  by  now  that  kal  doesn't  take  kindly  to  losing.   “  in  front  of  fuckin'  god  n'  everybody.  that's  how  you  like  it,  isn't  it  ?  ”   words  gritted  out  through  clenched  teeth,  an  urgency  leaking  out  between  the  syllables  as  he  tunes  in  to  the  patter  of  approaching  footsteps.  in  one  rapid  movement,  following  a  hindbrain  impulse,  he  yanks  down,  hard,  on  the  book  to  instead  hold  it  strategically  at  hip-height,  blocking  the  salacious  view  just  as  the  world's  most  crotchety  librarian  turns  the  corner,  eyeing  them  suspiciously. he  turns  his  head,  smiles  politely  at  her  —  hi,  lorraine.  no,  no,  we're  doing  just  fine.  just  looking  for  a  book. it's  alright,  i  think  i  got  it.  how  is  your  husband  doing?. . . —  an  effortless  display  of  his  natural  charm,  turned  on  like  a  lightswitch;  though  the  way  his  pulse  flutters  visibly  beneath  the  fragile  skin  of  his  throat  surely  says  enough,  to  lucky,  about  the  emulsified  mixture  of  agitation  &  lust  coursing  like  magma  just  below  the  surface.

𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗿𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗲𝘁, 𝗮 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝘁'𝘃𝗲 corroded in the rush of dna upon his creation. an exemplary move as he turns them in a circular motion, the bite of metal shelving twisting against the taller man's spine as lucky presses him backwards, sneakers creasing as he tiptoes up.  ❝ ion' think that's true. ❞ a purr of recognition for the generosity of skillful hands that once roamed along sweaty flesh.  ❝ we can do it anywhere you want. ❞ a genuine offer, calm in its tone despite the smile that appears. another hand outstretched, palm splayed against the flat of kaleo's torso, lithe fingers lifting up the hem of his shirt & sliding underneath; slowly. a missing piece in a puzzle as it fits ever so perfectly against warm skin. a black vulture of a man, tensed & hovering over cooled meat. it's an anticipation that leaves him burning to be torn apart.  ❝ we can do it over there, ❞ he's glancing over his shoulder at an empty desk, big enough to hold more than a few pounds of added weight. nails bite crescent moons into the muscle below kaleo's belly button as he looks toward the left.  ❝ or there. ❞ the staircase mere feet away, planted right in the middle of daskalos' student body. a pleasing thought that drowns out the click of footsteps coming their way, oblivious to the precarious position they remain in ─ drawn in, dismissive of the embarrassment that may come for the other freshman should anyone find out. a reputation indeed, to sink his fangs in; a black mamba of a man. it's the sheer desire in shallow breaths that serves more than enough motivation to continue the charade. lucky's not above working for it, especially when it results in him being below. if kal were true to quick nature, he'd choose wisely ─ release the book, or reap the consequence of nearing eyes.

[hiercphant]

𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐎'𝐒  𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐒  as  zehra's  grip  tightens  on  the  book,  &  his  own  follows  in  succession,  glaring  down  at  her  with  a  fierceness  that  edges  on  promised  violence.  true  to  her  word,  he  hears  a  quiet  rip  —  the  popping  of  stitches  along  the  spine  of  the  poor  old  book  as  neither  one  of  them  relents.  like  raptors  battling  mid-flight,  talons  interlocked,  hellbent  on  securing  each  other's  demise  even  if  it  means  their  own  petty  downfall.  this  is  how  it  always  goes  between  the  two  of  them.     “  who  hurt  you,  z  ?  ”    he  sneers,  eyebrows  furrowing  as  if  its  a  genuine  question.    “  for  real.  'cause  there's  no  fucking  way  you're  this  much  of  a  cunt  for  no  reason.  ”   another  pop  of  a  stitch,  a  slight  rip  of  paper,  &  they're  getting  dangerously  close  to  an  incurred  property  damage  fee.     “  you  can't  just  be  a  bitch  to  everyone  &  get  what  you  want.  get  here  first  next  time.  ”    he  leans  down,  chin  jutting  forward  in  a  borderline  snarl.    “  let.  go.  ”

          𝒊𝒕'𝒔  𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏  𝒂  𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈  𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒅𝒂𝒚,  &  all  zehra  wishes  to  do  is  grab  this  book  that  professor  avila  assigned  for  reading  &  make  a  bee  line  for  her  dorm.  the  chilled  library  air  &  sounds  of  papers  shuffling  as  pages  turn  are  absolutely  grating;  much  like  her  counterpart  now  as  they  reach  for  the  same  book.  icy  gaze  meets  kaleo's  with  a  squint,  though  that  quickly  shifts  into  a  challenging  expression;  unimpressed  but  amused  all  the  same.  “  is  that  supposed  to  mean  something  to  me  ?  you  might  be  loaded,  but  you  don't  own  everything  you  touch,  no  matter  how  much  you  people  like  to  believe  otherwise,  ”  manicured  nails  tap  insistently  against  the  book's  hardcover,  hand  pulling  it  closer  to  her  body.  she'll  be  damned  if  she  leaves  this  fucking  library  without  what  she  needs.  something  has  to  go  right  today.  “  &  you're  not  very  intimidating.  let  go  before  you  pull  it  apart.  ”  sickeningly  sweet  tone  contrasts  with  the  annoyance  simmering  beneath  her  skin,  eyes  unmoving  from  her  fellow  dionysia  member.  “  i'm  not  going  to  tell  you  again.  ”

[hiercphant]

closed  starter​​​​​​​   ⇢​​​​​​​  𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖕𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖉 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎 ( @prcphetics ! )

𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . .  the art & music building, around midnight.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐒  𝐈𝐓  𝐎𝐔𝐓  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐇𝐄𝐑  or  something,  because  one  second  she's  pulling  the  most  absolutely  perfect  vase  out  of  a  nine-pound  beast  of  a  block  of  clay,  &  within  what  feels  like  half  a  moment,  the  damn  thing  has  collapsed  into  a  pile  of  veritable  trash. a  frustrated  grumble  leaves  her  as  she  stands  up  from  the  wheel,  joints  cracking  &  stool  screeching  across  the  laminate  from  righting  herself  with  such  force.  but  the  failed  vase  —  her  third  attempt  in  the  last  hour,  bless  her  —  isn't  why  she  feels  that  she's  the  victim  of  some  karmically  evil  ploy  —  it's  what  happens  once  she  leaves  the  ceramics  classroom  &  beelines  for  the  bathroom  to  wash  her  hands  (  &  probably  her  face,  too,  considering  she  has  a  habit  of  getting  clay. . . well,  everywhere  ).  she  turns  the  corner  &  walks  face-first  into  a  torso  with  an  unceremonious  '  oof  !  ',  words  leaving  her  in  a  rush:  “  i'm  so,  so  sorry  —  ”  before  her  eyes  drift  up.  several  emotions  cross  her  face  in  rapid  succession  —  shock,  horror,  then  rage;  a  full-bodied  anger  that  crashes  in  like  a  tidal  wave  might  wipe  out  a  coastal  city. the  glare  in  her  eyes  is  dagger-sharp,  &  her  tone  turns  from  saccharine  &  apologetic  to  palpably  icy.     “  what  are  you  doing  here  so  late?  ”   as  if  she's  not  also  here  at  fuck  o'clock  in  the  morning,  but. she  shakes  her  head,  holding  up  a  clay-covered  hand  as  if  to  stop  him  from  speaking  before  he  even  starts.    “  actually,  i  don't  care.  move.  ”

[hiercphant]

closed  starter​​​​​​​   ⇢​​​​​​​  𝖉𝖆𝖐𝖔𝖙𝖆 𝖒𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖆 ( @prcphetics ! )

𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . .  milo's  bedroom on a rainy evening.

“  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐒. . . 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄. ”  an  exhaled  laugh  as  he  leans  back,  legs  sprawled  out  in  front  of  him,  palms  planted  against  the  rug  he'd  spread  across  the  hardwood  floor  of  his  bedroom  four  years  ago  when  he'd  moved  in.  it  had  quickly  become  his  home,  &  has  been  ever  since  —  summer  vacations  in  foreign  places  &  holidays  back  in  d.c.  always  leave  him  missing  his  beloved  bedroom.  the  common  spaces  he  shares  with  zehra,  too,  of  course  —  though  she's  missing  from  the  picture  at  the  moment:  a  shorthand  text  informing  him  she'd  be  at  the  studio  until  late  tonight.  good. 

raindrops  patter  insistently  against  the  iron-framed  windowpanes  to  his  left  —  a  rare  autumnal  shower.  the  island  cleansing  itself,  beginning  to  shrug  off  the  persistent,  lingering  heat  of  grecian  summertime.     “  so  that's  it,  then  ?  she  begs  for  her  life,  gives  up,  dies,  and  they  win  the  war  ?  what  an  awful  story.  i'd  have  a  word  with  agamemnon  if  that  motherfucker  were  real.  ”     a  shift  of  his  weight  to  free  up  one  hand,  reaching  to  lovingly  scratch  behind  lavender's  ears.  she's  peaceful,  flopped  on  her  side  next  to  them,  service  vest  discarded  by  the  door.  it's  an  ideal  situation  —  lavender's  company  is,  arguably,  one  of  the  reasons  he  spends  so  much  time  with  the  other  man.

 the  pooch  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  wandering  gaze  or  the  shame  that  swarms  him  every  time  he  stares  a  little  too  long,  however.

 each  time  he  does  it,  he  averts  his  eyes  —  not  in  fear  of  being  caught,  for  obvious  reasons,  but  because  it  makes  him  feel. . . wrong.  predatory.  he  knows,  from  brief  moments  of  vulnerability  on  kota's  part,  that  people  are  not  afraid  to  look  their  fill  —  audacious  enough  to  ogle  &  make  comments  of  the  most  disgusting  variety.  as  if  a  lack  of  sight  makes  him  oblivious,  too.  it  had  infuriated  milo  upon  first  hearing  it.  he  wants  nothing  less  than  to  become  one  of  them.

——— but,  even  still,  he  can't  deny  the  steady  thrumming  of  his  pulse.

 “  why'd  he  assign  his  own  book,  anyways  ?  ”  milo's  voice  cuts  through  the  silence  a  moment  later,  the  rain  muting  the  usual hustle  &  bustle  of  the  campus.  still,  though,  there's  a  slight  charge  in  the  air.  he  wonders  if  it  means  the  rain  will  soon  shift  into  a  thunderstorm,  or  if  he's  imagining  it  —  or,  perhaps,  if  it's  something  else  entirely.   “  seems  a  little,  uh,  self-important.  ”

[hiercphant]

𝐀  𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄  𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇  bubbles  up  from  kal's  chest,  tongue  peeking  out  between  his  teeth  in  an  ultra-rare  grin.  he's  sprawled  out  on  the  picnic  blanket  with  his  legs  out  in  front  of  him,  leaning  back  on  his  elbows  —  a  position  that  leaves  him  looking  up  at  angel.  &  boy,  what  a  fucking  view.  the  other  boy's  curls  are  halo-rimmed  with  sunlight,  the  canopies  above  just  beginning  to  turn  all  shades  of  ochre  &  amber.  there's  a  certain  peace  thrumming  under  his  skin,  replacing  the  restlessness  that  usually  resides  there.  when  asked,  he'd  chalk  it  up  to  something  innate  —  a  mammalian  pull  towards  rest  &  relaxation  as  the  months  get  colder.  but  it's  getting  hard  to  ignore  the  fact  that  it  only  ever  crops  up  when  angel's  around.  and  —  it's  nice.  it's. .  . different  from  the  constant  bickering  &  whiplash  he's  used  to.  different  from  lucky.  is  it  really  so  awful  of  him  to  indulge  in  it?    “  sounds  like  your  subconscious  has  been  feeling  a  little  vulnerable  lately.  ”    a  hand  absentmindedly  moves  to  graze  fingertips  up  the  length  of  angel's  forearm,  pausing  his  emphatic  movements,  long  fingers  curling  gently  around  their  slim  wrist.   “  wouldn't  be  such  a  bad  view.  ”   half-lidded  eyes  blink  slowly,  thumb  grazing  across  the  back  of  angel's  wrist,  over  the  bone  there.  a  subconscious  caress  —  like  he  can't  even  help  himself.  at  the  question,  his  gaze  shifts  down  to  the  book  at  his  side  —  dozens of post-its  peeking  out  of  every  edge,  a  bookmark  at  the  halfway  point.  he  hums  in  acknowledgement,  his  hand  (  regretfully  )  leaving  angel's  skin  to  lazily  pull  the  book  open  instead.    “  iphigenia  at  aulis.  ancient  greek  myth  —  it's  about  this  girl  who,  like,  gets  sacrificed  to  the  gods  by  her  own  dad.  fucked  up,  quite  frankly.  ”    he  shrugs  a  shoulder,  thumbing  through  the  pages.   “  it's  my  mentor's  translation.  kind  of  self-aggrandizing  to  assign  it  as  homework,  but. . . gotta  read  the  whole  thing  by  friday.  ”   he  tips  his  head  up  again,  smiling  sleepily  up  at  angel.   “  sorry.  that's  boring.  ”

𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅  𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓  𖧧  kaleo  stark  (  @hiercphant  )  ! 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏  𖧧  aphrodite's  garden,  mid  afternoon.

          “  —  𝒊  𝒉𝒂𝒅  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎  𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏  !  before  i  forget,  i  did.  i  walked  into  class,  &  everyone  was  staring  at  me  because  of  the  obvious,  y'know,  underwear  of  it  all..  but  this  time,  i  was  wearing  a  tie  too  !  no  shirt,  though..  i  think  ?  ”  takes  a  beat  to  think  about  it  before  continuing  their  retelling  in  the  most  animated  way  possible,  hands  naturally  moving  with  their  words;  a  staple  in  most  conversations  with  angel.  “  do  you  think  it  means  anything  ?  am  i  destined  to  show  up  to  class  in  my  black  tie  underwear  catalog  ?  i  could  get  some  printed  ones..  ”  he  nudges  kal  with  a  loud  laugh  after,  attention  then  falling  to  the  books  &  papers  around  the  two,  suddenly  remembering  why  he  asked  him  to  join  him  in  the  first  place:  homework.  angel  gestures  towards  the  title  kal  brought  with  him  that  he  definitely  can't  pronounce  the  name  of  on  the  first  try,  curious.  “  what's  that  book  about,  anyway  ?  ” 

[hiercphant]

Harris Dickinson for Esquire Singapore

[hiercphant]

🗣 from k to t with love <3

“  théodore  dupont-lemaire. . .  ”   spoken  in  a  hyperbolic,  over-exaggerated  french  accent  &  accompanied  by  a  roll  of  his  eyes.   “  what  a  cunt.  he  was  nice  as  a  kid,  but  lucifer  was  an  angel  once,  too.  ”    gaze  drifts  down,  remembering.    “  our  parents  were  friends.  he  came  out  to  hawaii,  like,  almost  every  winter,  &  we  went  out  to  monaco  in  the  summer.  that  fuck  has  seen  my  childhood  bedroom.  anyways  —  ”     a  hand  waves  dismissively,  as  if  to  rid  the  air  of  the  memories.   “  dude  needs  to  get  over  himself.  like,  at  least  pretend to  have  some  fuckin'  humility.  bro  turned  sixteen  &  suddenly  i  was  beneath  him.  didn't  even  call  when  my  parents. . . ”     an  aborted  thought  —  his  mouth  snaps  shut,  the  muscles  in  his  jaw  ticking  as  his  teeth  clench  together.    “  worst  part  is  everybody  eats  it  up.  people  look  at  him  like  he's  fuckin'  god's  gift  to  humanity.  it's  all  bullshit.  and  he  knows  it,  too.  he  just  won't  admit  it.  ”

[hiercphant]

vaughn — fmk nyla, stella, mari

“  oh,  this  is  such  an  awful  game !  uh  —  i  —  uh  —  well.  i  think  i'd  marry  mari.  that's  almost  a  rhyme,  isn't  it  ?  anyways  —  we  know  that  we  get  along  &  i  think  we'd  be  perfectly  happy  together.  ”   a  sheepish  grin,  turning  his  gaze  away.   “  i'd,  uh  —  god,  fuck  is  just  such  an  intense  word.  but  i'd  fuck  nyla.  she's  —  well.  i  just.  i  mean,  look  at  her.  ”   heat  rises  to  his  cheeks,  reddening  his  face. he  sniffs,  rubbing  his  nose  awkwardly.  “  and,  um.  i  wouldn't  kill  stella.  she's  super  nice.  could  i  kiss  her  instead  ?  ”

[hiercphant]

milo — fmk kota, briar, samson !

“  oh,  hah,  well.  i'm  not  into  dudes. . . but,  uh,  i'll  entertain  the  hypothetical.  so,  marry  briar,  of  course.  maybe. . . fuck  kota  ?  i  mean,  look  at  him.  even  i  can't  deny  that  motherfucker  is  gorgeous.  &  i  don't  wanna  kill  samson,  'cause  he's  a  cool  guy,  but,  uh. . . well.  sorry,  man.  no  hard  feelings.   ”

[hiercphant]

for ana luisa: who's your closest friend?

“  oh  !  i'd  have  to  say  it's  a  tie  between  nyla,  june  &  briar.  &  cloud,  of  course.  i  know  that's  cheesy  but  i  don't  care.  ”

[hiercphant]

🗣 speak ur truth kal ( june has tomatoes ready )

“  june's. . . yeah,  she's  alright.  nothing  like  cilla.  i  honestly  can't  believe  they're  related.  we  got  inducted  into  the  dionysia  at  the  same  time,  and. . . my  fuckin'  god  —  she  used  to  piss  me  the  fuck  off,  at  first.  interrupted  me  constantly.  she's  always  up  everybody's  ass  about  '  keeping  it  civil. '   like,  i'm  trying to.  not  my  fault  everyone  else  in  the  club  is  a  fuckin'  knucklehead. . . but  anyways,  we're  cool  now.  she's. . . nice.  she's  smart.  ——  although,  she  always  steals  my  fuckin'  pens. . .  ”

[hiercphant]

🗣 ( cue june holding up the mic for ana luisa )

“  oh  my  god  !  my  junebug  !  i  would  quite  literally  die  for  her,  kill  for  her,  commit  tax  fraud  for  her. that’s  my  girl,  my  lady  !  i’ve  got  no  idea  why  she’s  so  hard  on  herself.  she’s  a  perfect  ten.  insanely  smart,  and  she’s  kind,  too  ?  well,  that's  just  not  fair.  a  true  diamond  in  the  rough. i’m  serious,  people  like  her  are  so  few  &  far  between. god,  i  love  that  girl. ”

[hiercphant]

Send me an ask with 3 options for my muse to FMK! Please specify muse to answer!