ffszak-blog

[ffszak-blog]

imessage ✉️ open.

winona: while i'd normally be perfectly interested in going out in a slutty sailor costume, i think i'm going to stay home this year.

zak: boring

zak: are you gonna watch a marathon of halloween movies too?

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“Humid and rainy.�� Maybe he’s trying to save face, play catch up on the months he should have carved in the time to see his best friend — as if that had been the reason why he hadn’t gone to visit Finley in the first place. He should’ve done anything, everything he could have to give him some semblance of hope. Something to anchor onto while the illness was tearing away at his insides. Zak brings the cup to his lips and takes another small sip of coffee. His head then shakes once. “—Nevermind.” 

“Oh, well, uh–” Finley’s stuttering over his words while he toys with the necklace that hangs around his neck. He shrugs his shoulders and looks up at the other. They’re sat at the diner with coffee mugs in front of them. “I ‘unno. I just never talk about it. I guess it’s ‘cause no one asks, you know?” He furrows his brows. “’Cause honestly, who wants to hear about what chemotherapy is like? I’d much rather hear about like, the weather in Puerto Rico or something.”

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I’ve taught my eyes to sparkle even when they’re empty.

(practice, practice, practice)

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hazelporter:

        “I accidentally fell asleep studying at my desk last night – look, you can see the imprint of my books on my cheek! Does this mean I’m officially a #collegegirl?”

         “—I think it makes you the opposite, honestly. Typical college girls get drunk on tequila and sleep around with the first thing that moves, don’t they?” 

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☠, ☼, ✖

☠ drinking/drunk headcanon

unless he’s at some kind of function his father’s dragged him to, zakariah drinks for the sole purpose of getting fucked up. he doesn’t think about the massive hangover he’ll have come morning light or the wave of nausea that would come and go once the clock struck one am. he doesn’t have to think about what else is going on around him or how his actions are being perceived, because he can’t ever seen to think about anything more than the liquid burning down his throat and the blurry edges of whoever it is that’s around him. it’s the only time he can almost completely let loose. 

☼ childhood headcanon

for his sixth birthday, he demanded to be brought to the zoo and the only animal that hadn’t been dozing off underneath warm afternoon sun was the spotted hyena. naturally, zak hated the idea of them because he’d watched the lion king one too many times — but there was something calming about them behind the four inch glass. head held high as they walked, ears occasionally pricking at the flap or a bird’s wings overhead or a particularly loud baby being carted further down the exhibit. something about the contrast between the reputation they’d had forced upon them and the way they actually behaved resonated with him that day. they’ve been his favorite ever since. 

✖ anger headcanon

it’s forever engrained in everything he does. there’s always this underlying tension of frustration — a tighter grip around his cup when he’s at a party, a sharper edge in his posture, a clenching of his jaw whenever there’s a beat too long of silence in a conversation. no matter how happy he might appear on the outside, zak’s got a boiling anger in very bottom of his heart that he knows has got a very good chance of never being put out. 

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⋆

tbh he’s a low key romantic. there had once been a time where zak had been infatuated with the idea of love — all the cliché mannerisms of it and how people would always talk about getting swept up with a warmth that just felt right whenever they were around another. it wasn’t until the heir to his father’s company idea was thrust upon him that zak let that all go. he didn’t have time for courting and feeling comfortable with someone before making a first move. plus, through the years his dad had made him a cynic and it’s hard to think that anyone would genuinely want to be with him for anything more than a piece of his inevitable inheritance. so sex hardly ever has some deep rooted meaning to him now. it’s just a way to get some pent up stress out. 

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☻ : Mood headcanon

regular emotions — happiness, sadness, glum, angry — hardly ever surface. zak always seems to be caught up in this near blank mood, an empty canvas and that’s mirrored in his facial expression. ( which is almost always misconstrued as boredom, but he doesn’t mind that much. ) he lets whoever it is that’s around him sort of dictate his emotions instead of the other way around. —it’s how he was forced to grow up, and it doesn’t change with the other people around seaport. the fact that everyone around thinks they know who he is and what kind of person he is only makes it easier. 

[ffszak-blog]

☾ : Sleep headcanon ☠ : Drinking/drunk headcanon ☼ : Childhood headcanon ☯ : Genderbent headcanon ⋆ : Sex headcanon ☮ : Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon ☄ : Any AU headcanon (modern, school, medieval, and so on) ♤ : Cooking headcanon ⊕ : Talents/hobbies headcanon ☻ : Mood headcanon ✚ : health headcanon ✿ : happiness headcanon ✖ : anger headcanon ♆ : body headcanon ϡ : mental state headcanon ღ : love or sexuality headcanon ♡ : relationship with (give name or url) † : religion headcanon ✄ : pet peeve headcanon ☂ : food headcanon ♒ : Any other question of your choosing

(via hannibalsnecropoleis)

[ffszak-blog]

why did you ditch finley when he needed you the most?

it’s not something he likes thinking about, nevermind talking about. it wasn’t the smartest move in the world, he knows that, but finley had had a problem that zak couldn’t’ve appeased with an extra bag of lunch, and to see his best friend laid on a hospital bed as pale as the sheets he was wrapped up in — frankly, it wasn’t something he’d be able to stomach. of course that’s nothing that can be said though and zakariah immediately goes on the defensive. ❛ i didn’t ditch him. i had responsibilities that needed to be met, and had i the time to go see him— i would have. ❜ 

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What is the most useless advice someone has given you?

there’s a huffed laugh, eyes rolling out of pure instinct. what a ridiculous question. what advice hasn’t been useless? ❛ fourth grade. we had to do a worksheet on the first day, generic questions like what’s our favorite color and what’d we do over the summer. i left the last one blank: what do you want to be when you grow up. my teacher — mrs. bellesario — was adamant about the whole ‘you can be whoever you set your mind to.’ told me that as long as i worked hard and stuck true to myself then there wasn’t a damn thing that could stop me. that molds set for people were there only to be broken. —idiot. ❜ even then, zak was sure he had a pinch in his little stomach that realized that had never been an option for him. 

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do you prefer your mother or father?

❛ —is that even an honest question? ❜ his father was a parasite. there wasn’t a damn person in the world that zak would prefer him over. least of all his mother. 

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miloovega:

stepping foot into the busiest area of the city was more stress than milo thought she could handle. people were everywhere. problems were everywhere. and she was only in one place, being one minuscule person, trying to navigate through towards the grocers. downtown was, by no means, a lonely place. especially with tourists always trying to find new places to go – or old ones that had been recommended in one way or another. if milo could just breathe and calmly walk her way towards the building, no issues would arise. but, things never seemed to work out in her favor, because just when she could see the neon lights of the grocery store up ahead, a hand placed itself on her shoulder and she rocketed up into the air. spinning around, milo met wild eyes with whoever had managed to scare the shit out of her. 

typically, zakariah didn’t go out of his way to approach people. almost every time he had ended in a fake smile plastered across his face by the mention of his family name, or an eye roll that damn near left him blind by its swift motion because of a poor suggestion. either way, people weren’t exactly zak’s forte and he wasn’t ever one for throwing himself in situations where he knew he would fail. despite the square footage of the summer home, the walls felt constricting and zak needed some space to breathe. he’d been walking aimlessly when he spotted a familiar face, and it was only instinct for him to reach out for her, his hand moving a split second faster than his head had been to stop it. “sorry.” the word’s almost stuttered out and it’s soon followed by more. “i didn’t mean to scare you. i just saw you and— first reaction, you know? sorry.” 

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His eyes flickered to his notebook before hastily flipping it shut. “I don’t.” He wasn’t meant to be, at least. Zakariah was supposed to be looking at last year’s numbers for his father’s company and come up with something that was supposed to do whatever— that hadn’t been the actual wording, of course. His father was much to articulate to even consider ‘whatever’ as part of his vocabulary, but Zak hadn’t been paying enough attention to his dad’s words to know specifics. Everything was always going in one ear and out the other until that tell all tone, always followed with an insult that Zak more often than not had to take with the corners of his mouth forced into a smile. For the sake of saving face, his mother would always say. Stupid. 

“What do you want?” It was the only reason why anyone stopped by to talk to him now. Whether it was for the sake of the business, monetary value, or to drop off some muttered insult about his arrogance— everyone always wanted something from him. 

Being back in Seaport was a special kind of hell for Kenna. Post-rehab, she failed to gain back any major popularity in the fashion world, despite all that go-sees and callbacks, and a particularly desperate cry for attention in the form of an article in Complex (about overcoming her eating disorders and self-hatred – she might as well go into acting with how seamlessly she pulled off that lie). Her agent (who also happened to be her aunt), told her to “take a vacation” and “cool down on the social media” while she “figured out her new brand”. According to Aunt Caroline, taking a break from the modeling world would make her seem more “down-to-earth” and “likable”. Kenna knew Caroline well enough to know all of her schmoozing PR bullshit, and all the talk was just a nice way of saying, you’re rejected. you’re not cool anymore. you’re out. So, here’s Kenna, back in Seaport, ME, despite the fact that she was barely on speaking terms with her two best frenemies. Charles was MIA, and as a result, Kenna put all her energy into two things: Milo and losing weight. It was all she had at this point.

Being that she saw Zakariah Almasi in an ice-cream parlour, alone, while on her third jog of the day, of course she dodged inside and pretended to buy a bottle of water, while making a show of staring at him until he acknowledged her presence. She didn’t remember any memorable interactions with Zak, but she knew that he was drop-dead gorgeous and his family owned at least half the city. Kenna shrugs, taking her time to respond by twisting open her water bottle, and taking a sip. “I didn’t know you draw.” Kenna hadn’t paid enough attention to actually see if he was drawing or writing, but she wasn’t one to doubt herself. She thought hesitation was tacky. Kenna crosses her arms expectantly waiting for his response.

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❛ —You sure that’s not coffee in general? ❜

❛ Excuse me - Do you know where the best place to buy coffee here is? The one I used to go to apparently makes shitty coffee as soon as the summer’s over and the tourists are gone… ❜

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Slouched over the table with an elbow anchored to keep him from completely bending forward, it’s almost laughable how Zak has to physically keep his spine from straightening out. His posture had always been something he was conscious of, shoulders broadened and head held high. His father would have had a fit to see him look so lazy right now. Graphite absentmindedly etched between the lines of the notebook set in front of him, until his shoulders twitch like they know someone’s watching. And maybe they do; maybe they’ve had to readjust Zak’s posture more times than they could count at dinner parties and it’s saved him from breaking character every time. Amber eyes scanned the perimeter of Hal’s ice cream parlor and caught someone else’s gaze. “Can I help you?” The question’s got a sharp point at the end, and Zak is careless of how four simple words managed to disrupt the relatively quiet atmosphere. 

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Will someone just come and take my heart Set it down in front of moving cars I feel nothing at all So won’t someone just come and take my heart And tear it apart