#ndearnadhfailli

[dexdmxnwonderlxnd]

ndearnadh-failli started following you

Club's closed.

[ironrascal-blog-blog-blog-blog]

I've Got Nothing Left Inside Of My Chest | ndearnadh-failli

       There wasn't much Jasper could say to her aside from what he did to ensure that Lola didn't go upstairs completely. But to play to hero, to waltz in like he owned the place and was rescuing her? Oh, she wouldn't concede that to him just yet. Because however much he didn't want to hear it, she really couldn't give less of a shit if the man holding her by the throat kept squeezing. She wasn't stupid; there was only one way for a drug dealer to react when a woman stole three grams from them. Still, maybe she wanted Jasper to see it. To react, and then to watch it happen. Maybe that was why she'd called him to come get her. Not to get her out of there, but just to watch; everyone wanted an audience to witness the most important moment of their lives. Lola hadn't ever wanted a wedding, (or maybe she had, but she'd forgotten about it), or kids, and she was never going to graduate college. But she could give up everything she'd ever worked again; she could win over all the people that tried to kill her slowly. She could do it all at once and make Jasper watch. 

      "Nah," Lola hummed to Jasper's command, pushing against Neil and going to lean against him. "Now that you've come to my rescue, sweet prince," she breathed in his ear before digging her nails into his arm. "I want to watch."

[chiefsniper]

ndearnadh-failli

      Come in, J.

[fratelemortii]

Our muses sitting at their child’s sickbed.

They’re taking turns worrying and arguing, but never in her room. Jamie wants to wait it out (she’s not dying, Love, she’ll be fine) but Jasper wants to give her medicine (it’ll speed it up, Jay, just a little is okay). They can’t agree on a method (Jamie is winning, so far, purely due to lack of sufficient medication in the household), but at any cough or call from the little girl in next room, any indecision is dropped. 

It may only be a cold or a bug or a small virus (no doctor visits, so no exact diagnosis), but she’ll receive star treatment until she’s in tip top shape again. Soup and juice, tea on demand, and all the stories she could handle. Ick and Bailey kept her constant company, and Jamie often spent the night reading by her sleeping figure, allowing Jasper to get rest as he was the one with an actual job to attend.

But on the bad nights, where the coughs kept her up or she had trouble breathing, the three of them spent the nights telling tales or playing board games, existing in peaceful bubble where nothing but the three of the them (and the pets) were there, where nothing could go wrong, and only the promise of fresh pancakes with the sunrise could bring the morning.

[fratelemortii]

[text]: not to be desperate or anything but im currently home alone and on the verge of jerking myself off to pictures of you. would be better if it was the real you though !

{text} hmmm sounds like quite the predicament. -J

[fratelemortii]

My muse finds out yours has a terminal illness. [HAHAHAHA]

He hasn’t wanted to tell Jasper. He hasn’t wanted to tell anyone; Jamie is still getting used to everything himself. It’s unreal, the diagnosis. One of those psychological things where he knew it happened to other people but he always figured he was not one of them. But the symptoms.. they’re getting worse each day. He can’t pass them off as exhaustion, as need for caffeine, as just a headache. He can’t use the excuse of the city suffocating him for much longer. What if he blacks out again? What about another seizure? What about when he starts.. when the memories start going? (Jamie’s done his research. He’s scared. He wants to know. Now he isn’t sure if it’s better knowing or not, but at least he’s prepared.)

They’ve been sitting in silence for ages, and he can’t find the courage. Twiddling fingers, uncomfortable shifting. He has to tell him, Jamie knows he has to own up to the coming chaos. He needs to warn Jasper away now, warn him away before things get awful. He wants to give Jasper time to find someone else. Time to leave, time to forget. Jamie doesn’t want anyone around when things... deteriorate.

“I’m --” And the words catch. He cringes. “I’ve got a...” But how? What was appropriate. Was there appropriate? Was there even delicate? “I’m dying.”

There. Straight to the point.

[ironrascal-blog-blog-blog-blog]

ndearnadh-failli

UH OH! YOUR CHARACTER IS WATCHING MINE GET HIT ON AND IS FEELING POSSESSIVE. HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER HANDLE THIS?

Edit: I read this wrong the first time, oops! Jasper's

getting hit, not hit on.

     It's a dance for her at this point; there's no thought behind it. Just watching how the man across from Jasper coils his arm and lets it fly. Lola tilts her head, and the man smirks at her as if she's just a pretty decoration of a girlfriend, watching what her boyfriend get what's coming to him. They aren't dating, but Jasper is still her dealer and her late-night fuck and no one gets to hit him except her (but only when he gets what's coming to him.)          The man is taking by surprise when she walks up to him, and she can see every foul thought that crosses his mind plain on his face but it only fuels her. She has enough time to smile wickedly back at Jasper before grabbing the man's hair and slamming it down so that his nose meets the meat of her palm. Lola laughs. He struggles and she almost loses grip, but her anger doesn't stop with one hit. To be fair, it never fucking stops. It's a well inside of her that doesn't end, the anger plinking down into it slowly and filling throughout the day and it has been so fucking long since she's last fought someone.

         The man goes down with the next punch to his jaw; Lola's knuckles buckle under themselves but the crack of his bone is reward enough to keep going. She's not sure he can even hear her when she digs a knee into his chest and leans down close to his ear and points to Jasper. 

         "Don't you ever fucking touch him again."

[fratelemortii]

[text]: where are you i have something you need to fix (its a boner)

{text} out and about. how badly do you need me? -J

[fratelemortii]

Our muses in a car accident.

It happened all at once too quick to process and yet so slowly he could see it all. Everything was fine -- they were in Jasper’s car, on their way to get some food or something was that really important anymore? And then suddenly, it wasn’t fine anymore. Screeching of tires, the awful scraping and crunching of metal, of brakes trying and failing to work... 

Jamie’d been watching through the window, staring at the sights as they’d passed by. He’d seen the car run the light, watched as it barreled through the intersection, had a split moment to take a breath in a thought of warning the other. But the collision came hard, knocking the air from his lungs as the other vehicle plowed into the passenger side of the car, plunging Jamie and Jasper into a careening mess of smoke and parts. 

His head cracked sharply against the window, the seat belt cutting into his skin, the air bag doing nothing to prevent injury. He felt bones snap, the younger of the two having taken the brunt of the force. But whatever agony could befall him never did. Whatever worry he could muster for the one beside him never gathered, because he was gone to the darkness, sinking under blood loss and immeasurable pain.

[fratelemortii]

“Despite everything, it’s still you.”

“No -- no it’s not, Jasper. It’s not. You don’t understand -- this... it’s changed everything. I’m not me. I don’t know if there ever was a ‘me’ or if I’ve always been a mask of someone. I don’t know who you think you know but what you see before you now it’s not -- I’m closer to destroying everything than I am loving anything and perhaps that’s how it’s always been. It’s not ‘still’ me, don’t say that. Please. You’ll only be let down.”