orrested

[orrested]

closed for @persephcned featuring marianne byrne, at saint george beach.

brown  hair  ruffled  by  the  wind,  jamie  flipped  the  rugby  ball  he'd  brought  along  over  in  his  hands,  passing  it  back  and  forth  just  to  have  something  to  do.  he  glanced  over  at  the  abandoned  church  up  on  the  hill,  brows  briefly  knit  together;  he  had  been  dragged  out  to  take  a  dip  in  the  waves  by  some  teammates  and  promptly  abandoned,  likely  making  out  in  the  shade  while  he  was  left  to  look  pretty  in  the  sunlight  all  by  himself.  this  was,  luckily,  a  life  skill  he  was  well  versed  in.  he  let  himself  fall  back  on  the  sand  in  a  dramatic,  long-limbed  flop,  content  to  bask  in  the  sun  until  the  everpresent  list  of  homework  caught  up  to  him  --  paused  at  footsteps  nearby,  propping  himself  up  on  one  arm  to  look  over  with  a  rueful  smile.  "ach,  sorry  if  i  sent  any  sand  your  way."  he  was  fairly  sure  he  hadn't,  but  he  did  tend  to  be  happier  striking  up  conversations  with  strangers  than  left  entirely  to  his  own  thoughts.

[orrested]

lunch  tray  packed  to a dangerous level of precariousness,  jamie  made  his  way  through  the  dining  hall,  half  convinced  he'd  have  to  eat  standing  up.  were  there  really  this  many  people,  or  was  the  building  just  tiny?  either  way,  showing  up  too  late  for  his  usual  group  was  a  mistake  he  wasn't  going  to  make  again.  he  flashed  percy  a  grateful  smile  when  he  cleared  the  spot,  putting  down  his  tray  and  shrugging  off  his  backpack  as  he  sat.  "thanks,  man!  appreciate  it."  he  scanned  percy's  pile  of  books  curiously  as  he  began  to  pick  at  his  food,  trying  to  piece  together  his  project.  sciences,  definitely.  "feel  free  to  tell  me  to  shut  up  so  you  can  focus,  but  what're  you  working  on?  got  an  essay  due  already?"

open, the dining hall, mid-day

It was only the beginning of the semester, but if you asked Percy, that didn't mean anything. He had taken a break, to be sure, but now it was time to dig back in and he was fully prepared to move full-steam ahead. His lunch sat beside him, barely touched, amongst the other materials spread across the corner of the table he occupied. Books, notebook, and laptop were all scattered around him, the latter dominating his attention as he typed feverishly.

It was only when he reached for his apple that he noticed someone approaching with a tray full of food and he cursed under his breath, gathering up his things a bit closer. "Sorry. I forgot how quickly this place fills up when classes are in session again." He gestured to the seat across from him, a space cleared up. "There you go. All yours."

[orrested]

"don't  worry,  you  aren't  the  father,"  comes  the  automatic  dry  reply,  even  as  ty  half  regrets  going  anywhere  near  théo  --  the  turnaround,  how  quickly  something  in  their  stomach  starts  to  twist,  is  almost  impressive.  it  might  have  been  better  to  act  like  that  drunk  voicemail  had  never  happened  and  wait  for  the  ground  to  swallow  them  whole  than  try  to  muddle  their  way  through  this,  still  unsteady  on  their  feet  from  their  own  hangover.  "do  you  want  an  advil?"

         𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧   𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫         ...        ›        𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫   @   𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬

he's  at  the  sun's  mercy   ;   sunglasses  perched  on  top  of  his  nose,   almost  vampiric  as  he  shied  away  from  any  semblance  of  a  golden  glow  under  the  grecian  sky.   after  another  night  spent  killing  his  insides  and  barely  remembering  how  he  even  got  home,   the  blonde  who  would  usually  shower  himself  with  the  public's  affections  now  sat  obscured  away  from  any  passerby.   no  one  should  see  him  like  this   ...   not  when  he's  been  so  good  at  keeping  up  appearances  the  past  few  weeks.   “   god,   no   ...   not  today,   please.   whatever  this  is,   ”   his  face  was  in  his  hands  as  he  heard  steps  approach  and  call  for  him.   “   you  better  be  pregnant  or  someone  is  dying  for  you  to  come  to  me  with  whatever  you  have  right  now,   ”

[orrested]

[orrested]

[orrested]

even  their  headphones  don't  totally  block  out  the  thud  of  someone  hitting  the  floor  an  aisle  over,  and  ty  follows  the  noise  to  see  what's  going  on,  pausing  their  latest  loop  of  one  song  again  and  again  and  sliding  their  headphones  off  with  a  little  raise  of  their  brows  when  they  see  genie.  "you  alright?"  they  follow  her  gaze  and  reach  up  to  snag  iphigenia,  offering  her  the  book.  their  own  copy  is  already  back  in  their  dorm,  acquiring  a  little  more  blue  highlighter  every  day;  they  had  gotten  all  of  avila's  works  after  their  own  first  dionysia  meeting,  assumed  they  would  need  most  of  them  eventually  and  the  ones  that  they  didn't  --  well,  the  books  make  for  decent  coasters,  anyways.  "excited  that  we're  starting  out  with  your  namesake?"  genie's  enthusiasm  is  infectious,  despite  their  best  efforts  to  start  the  semester  with  self-imposed  solitude.  it'll  be  nice  to  see  her  at  discussions,  they  think,  as  though  they  don't  see  her  enough  between  model  un  and  mock  trial,  and  they  reach  up  a  little  awkwardly  to  adjust  their  headphones,  have  something  to  do  with  their  hands.  "if  you  want  to  go  over  the  readings  sometime,  i'd  be  happy  to  --  i  mean,  i  study  with  lore,  but  it's always helpful to --  working  lunch,  or  something?"  oh,  god,  they  need  to  stop  talking.

open  starter​​​​​​​  ⇢​​​​​​​  𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊.

𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . .  daskalos  bookstore.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃  𝐈𝐒  𝐍𝐎𝐓  𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐇𝐄𝐑,  or  at  least  for  people  of  her  stature  —  she’s  been  at  it  for  ten  whole  minutes  now,  reaching  high  above  her  head  for  the  book  in  question.  if  she  were  more  susceptible  to  spiteful  thoughts,  she  would’ve  cursed  avila  for  having  an  𝓐  name  &  causing  his  works  to reside  on  the  top  shelf,  but  she  adores  the  man  far  too  much  for  that,  &  besides  —  the  first  assignment  of  the  year  is  her  namesake,  for  god’s  sakes.  it  would  feel  like  utter  betrayal  to  be  even  the  slightest  bit  annoyed.  she’s  tried  it  all  —  jumping  up,  using  another  book  to  knock  it  off  the  shelf  —  &  now  she’s  resorted  to  one  of  the  more  precarious  options:  standing  on  top  of  a  stack  of  books  on  her  tiptoes,  lip  caught  between  her  teeth  as  she  reaches  &  reaches. . . until  the  stack  crumbles  from  underneath  her,  &  before  she  knows  it,  her  ass  meets  the  outdated,  scratchy  carpet.  with  a  wince,  she  grumbles  &  pulls  herself  up,  huffing  to  blow  the  strands  of  hair  that  have  fallen  from  their  ribbons  &  into  her  face.  footsteps  to  her  left  draw  her  attention,  &  she  turns  to  her  new  company,  smiling  sheepishly.    “  do  you,  uh  …  ”    she  turns  her  gaze  up  to  the  book,  still  sitting  smugly  upon  its  shelf.    “  do  you  mind  ?  ”

[orrested]

tilting  back  their  head,  ty  briefly  basked  in  the  sun  as  they  let  lore  lead  the  way  to  their  study  spot,  annotated  copy  of  avila's  iphigenia  tucked  under  their  arm.  they  were  usually  one  to  hole  up  in  the  library,  headphones  on  and  books  piled  up  in  utter  obliviousness  to  the  rest  of  the  world  –  but  lore  might  have  been  onto  something  with  her  quiet  little  corner  of  the  garden.  they  shrugged  off  their  backpack  and  sat  in  the  grass  next  to  her,  leaning  back  on  their  arms  and  settling  their  full  attention  on  her  as  she  spoke,  dark  eyes  for  once  not  hidden  by  their  usual  mess  of  wild  hair.

  what  does  avila  know  that  we  don't?

  ty  paused,  brows  knitting  together  in  a  frown.  while  they  couldn't  begin  to  guess  details  that  could  make  samson  oedipus,  they  wondered  –  orestes  and  electra.  had  avila  known?  how  could  he,  they  hadn't  made  any  plans  against  their  parents  until  after  they  had  joined  the  dionysia,  but  –  how  many  times  had  they  read  about  their  namesake,  plagued  by  madness  for  his  matricide?  was  it  some  kind  of  unheeded  warning?  a  taunt?  they  were  no  orestes,  in  the  end:  no  god  or  trial  was  going  to  declare  them  not  guilty. 

  "i  don't  know,"  they  admitted  finally.  "i've  never  been  sure  what  to  make  of  him.  seems  like  he  does  have  to  know  something,  right?  you  could  assign  characters  based  on  personality,  maybe,  archetypes,  but  it's  not  as  though  he  knew  us  well in  advance.  and  why  did  he  pick  us  for  his  mentees  in  the  first  place?"  they  paused before they could start to rant on their own name,  watching  lore  carefully.  "does  it  bother  you  that  he  called  you  echo?"

closed starter for ty - @orrested location: aphrodite's garden, early evening

golden hour was just starting to hit in naxos, warm tones beginning their takeover of the gardens, when lore dragged ty to what she declared was the best patch of grass on campus.

it had, of course, been an exaggeration. surely there were better spots. maybe under a shady tree or closer to the action on campus? but having stargazed from that very spot several times in the past, she'd developed a fondness for its clear view of the sky and proximity to the flowers (close enough to smell them, not close enough to risk getting stung by a bee).

she'd made plans with ty days prior to go over iphigenia, insisting that they meet outside while the weather was still nice. and though ty had been nice enough to agree to her plans, she was starting to have some regrets.

not about their meeting spot. or about her company. no, it was purely about iphigenia. and spending the last moments of that day's sunlight doing a semi-tutoring session for the philosophy portion of her education.

"can i tell you something that's been bothering me?" she began, delicately lowering herself to the grass as she pushed off the true purpose of their meeting just a bit longer.

"it's avila. have you ever wondered about why he picks the codenames he does? does he do it because he knows he'll forget our names? or does he know something about us that maybe we don't even know? like... samson. oedipus. what does avila know that we don't? should we be worried?"

[orrested]

robert icke, oresteia

[orrested]

LOADING FILE . . .

ID #960213:   JAMIE DUNWOODY. EVAN RODERICK. —  GENDER: CIS MAN.    PRONOUNS: HE/HIM.    AGE: TWENTY-SEVEN.  YEAR: SOPHOMORE.    STUDYING: ARCHITECTURAL ENGINEERING.     CITY OF ORIGIN:  KELSO, SCOTLAND.

NOW PLAYING… I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY BY WHITNEY HOUSTON.  A FADED POSTER OF YOUR PERFECT BODY PINNED TO SOMEONE’S WALL, TOUSLED BROWN HAIR AND A SMILE THAT RIVALS THE SUN, COMING HOME TO WORN FLOORBOARDS AND LEARNING TO BREATHE AGAIN, BRAND NEW CLEATS TO BE JOYOUSLY BROKEN IN, THE RELIEF OF NOBODY KNOWING YOUR NAME – A BLANK SLATE.

IF THE WALLS COULD TALK, THEY’D TELL YOU HE USED TO BE A TEEN HEARTTHROB. 

CONTINUE… ?

HIMBO RUGBY FULLBACK! DEFINITELY NOT THAT ACTOR GUY!

full name james caine dunwoody alias caine kelly nicknames jamie, jim age twenty-seven date of birth february 13, 1996 hometown kelso, scotland nationality american + scottish gender identity cis man pronouns he/him sexual orientation bisexual (somewhat closeted)

height 5’11” eye color blue hair color light brown tattoos none scars none

parents annabel dunwoody (barista), gabriel kelly (film exec, retired actor) siblings chloe kelly (younger half sister) roommate tbd significant other none teams rugby

your parents meet in glasgow: your father filming, your mother reaching for a dream bigger than a small life in a small town. this isn’t love. he leaves her with a baby, and she goes back to that small town. this is love: your ma scooping you up and putting you on the counter to help her cook, your grandpa playing catch for hours in the backyard, something tiny and tight knit and warm. your father comes back when you are old enough to be interesting. when you are old enough to be marketable. jamie dunwoody is whisked off to los angeles before anyone can  do a damn thing to stop it, and caine kelly is born.

you are a charming child and you grow into a pretty teen. your father knows how to market and you learn to be marketable. to flatten that distinctive accent into a blonde all-american boy next door. bit pieces, kid shit, until you are old enough to be every high school girl’s first fantasy. movies, magazines, modeling, a song or two, rumors about you and a member of some girl group you’ve never met before in your life. hair dye, dieting, invasive questions you learn to answer with easy laughter. you’re hot shit. you’re hollywood’s boyfriend.

you grow up. this in itself isn’t the problem: your career keeps booming, parts keep coming in. you are the problem. you don’t like, so much, to be looked at, and you are not so easy to control, not as desperate for your father’s love. you miss your ma, and sitting on the counter, and racing through backyards. after a downward spiral at twenty-one you walk out of a photoshoot and you never look back.

it takes years to learn how to be a person. you find yourself in little moments: making cranachan, your first proper go at rugby, planting your ma’s favorite flowers and watching her smile. to be jamie again, the dunwoody lad, and absolutely nothing else. you decide, eventually, that university would do you some good: new location, new opportunities, new education. you’ve settled in roots and you’d like now to grow. you have the smarts and the money for daskalos, and, well – not the commonest resume. with your new old name and sharp accent and glasses and lack of bottle blonde, with your utter disappearance from pop culture and entirely new demeanor, you’ve no interest in telling anyone you were ever anything but jamie, their fullback, friendly face and warm teasing and open shoulder to lean on.

love is a cautious desire, to be handled with care. you’re pretty still, and you’ve learned to be alright with admiring eyes. the need for something deeper – the romanticism you can’t quite shake – sits quietly in your chest, in need of coaxing. you’d like to love somebody. you think you might be good at it, if you can trust you’ll be wanted as more than another fuck.

MARILYN: DO YOU WANT TO SEE ME BECOME HER?

[orrested]

evan roderick as justin davis

→ 2/∞ — proceed with caution

[orrested]

😟🥴 give me LOVE but also give me PAIN

😟  a  worried  voicemail

𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑷 –  "hey,  this  is  ty,  i  was  just–"  a  pause,  a  little  too  long,  words  failing  them  uncharacteristically.  "look,  man,  you  seemed  off  earlier  tonight.  i  know  we've  been –  just  let  me  know  you  got  home  in  one  piece,  alright?  i'll...see  you  at  avila's."  they  inhale  as  if  to  say  something  more,  then  cut  off  the  call  abruptly. click.

🥴  a  drunk  voicemail

𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑷  –  "the  fuckin'  drinks  at  this  party, we  should've  mixed  this  at  one  of  ours.  d'you  remember  when–"  their  voice  is loud,  too  loud,  and  they  adjust  midsentence,  words  coming  in  a  waterfall  rush.  "i  was  a  freshman.  can  y'imagine?  that  was  so...things  were  so  much  simpler,  weren't  they?  it  was  fun,  and  now  i'm  so  angry  all  the  goddamn  time,  théo,  i  just..."  a  faint  scuffling  noise,  and  their  voice  drops  into  a  hush.  "i  did...i  think  i  did  something  awful.  i  am  awful. you  know?  i  did  something,  and,  and  i  can't –  i  can't  take  it  back.  i  can't  be  –  i  can't go  back.  i  miss  being...  i  miss  feeling  like  i  could...  do  you  think  people  can  change?  or  are  we  like  this  forever?  and,  and  would  it  ever  be  enough  to–" hitched breath, a faltering in and out. "i  put  –  i  put  my  parents  in jail, and  they  didn't  even –  ffffuck,  june's  gonna  find  me,  i  gotta–"  muffled  footsteps,  the  sound  of  a  door  closing:  "love  you,  bro,  y'still know  that?" click.

[orrested]

fmk: marianne (persephone), genie (iphigenia), lucky (phosphorus).

dark  brows  knit  together,  and  ty  stares  at  the  asker  in  utter  confusion  for  a  long  beat.  "suppose  i'd  marry  genie,"  they  say  slowly,  and  then  shrug  a  little,  almost  contemplative.  "look,  have  you  read  mari's  book?  i'm  not  saying  –  well.  i'm  killing  her.  that  leaves  lucky  to  fuck,  then.  satisfied?"

[orrested]

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

[orrested]

Send "Can I kiss you?" to see how my muse responds.

[orrested]

SEND 📞 + AN EMOJI BELOW FOR A VOICEMAIL MY MUSE LEFT FOR YOUR MUSE

😃 : a happy voicemail 

😍 : a loving voicemail

🤪 : a goofy voicemail

😞 : a disappointed voicemail

😔 : a sad voicemail

😟 : a worried voicemail

😠 : an angry voicemail

😳 : an embarrassing voicemail

😨 : a scared voicemail

😯 : a surprised voicemail

🥱 : a sleepy voicemail

🥴 : a drunk voicemail

[orrested]

GLIMPSES OF THE PAST: a headcanon / prompt collection because sometimes it's not enough to write about your muse's past and how it affects them, you just gotta write a little scene. these prompts are designed to be a little writing prompt related to your character's past, essentially!

send FORGED for a scene from my muse's past that they think made them stronger in the long run

send REMINDED for a scene from my muse's past in which they encountered something that reminded them of a difficult experience / trauma

send CONFESSED for a scene from my muse's past in which they revealed a secret about themselves to someone

send TRICKED for a scene from my muse's past in which they misled, tricked, or lied to someone

send IMPRESSED for a scene from my muse's past in which they tried to impress someone, successfully or not

send ACHIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they completed / achieved something they were proud of

send CHANGED for a scene from my muse's past that represented a turning point in their life

send DIFFERENT for a scene from my muse's past that they feel changed their outlook / personality / etc, for the better or worse

send CRITICAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they thought about / were reminded of something they're insecure about

send SCOLDED for a scene from my muse's past in which someone told them off, justifiably or not

send STRAINED for a scene from my muse's past in which they interact with someone they have a difficult relationship with

send SOBBED for a scene from my muse's past in which they broke down in tears

send LOST for a scene from my muse's past in which they felt lost, literally or figuratively

send BLINDSIDED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were betrayed or shocked by what someone did

send INJURED for a scene from my muse's past in which they sustained a significant injury

send AFRAID for a scene from my muse's past in which they were scared / under threat

send HELPED for a scene from my muse's past in which someone helped / saved them

send CAUGHT for a scene from my muse's past in which they were caught doing something they shouldn't

send BLUSHED for a scene from my muse's past in which they received a compliment that really got to them

send VICIOUS for a scene from my muse's past in which someone said something cruel that really got to them

send SWOONED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were infatuated with someone

send PINNED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were stuck somewhere, literally or figuratively

send GRIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they had recently lost someone / something

send MORTAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they had a brush with death, either themselves or someone close to them

[orrested]

Send 🗣to hear how my muse would describe yours.