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im not saying i need a plot based off 18 by anarbor but . i need a plot based off 18 by anarbor

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( finlay wolfe. )

     ❝ ay, ya got a light ? ❞

        ‘  yeah, yeah --- - can i bum a smoke, though ? need’a get myself some more.  ’

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( gowan kennedy. )

a knock is not what he expects from the other ( usually, dante just appears ! ) and so begrudgingly he climbs the stairs to the entrance to his basement apartment. when he swings open the heavy door, he’s finishing up a quick conversation with some north side idiot requiring his services. ‘ yeah, consider it done. ’ he smiled when saw who it was, though a look of bemusement passes through his eyes. he clicks the phone off, and moves aside to give the other access to the staircase descending into his home. ‘ something like that. what’dya got for me ? ’

        ‘  c’mon, CHICO, you always miss me. ’ there’s a CERTAIN AMOUNT OF ( agile insouciance ) in the way that dante just s l i d e s into the other’s apartment, lingering against the stairs for only a fraction of a second before inked digits tighten around the STRAP of the satchel that swings, noiseless but insistent, at the male’s side. ‘  depends on what you’re feelin’ today, hot stuff. we got some grandaddy purple in, some alaskan thunder fuck ... we got some good shit, mhm ? we got a little bit of blow, a few packets of molly ... the motherfuckin’ candy store has arrived, baby.  ’

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listen i hate tumblr messenger so .... hmu for my a*m n my sk*pe xoxo

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@crmvns !

            ‘  & so i’m, like, HIGH AS A FUCKIN’ KITE, this dude’s beggin’ me to suck him off, real loud, & like --- -- ’ ( euphonious LAUGHTER curls off of chapped brims, & inked hands gesture in the most EXPRESSIVE fashions he can possibly fathom ; he’ll focus his attention briefly upon his twin, offering her a DAZZLING GRIN before he turns back to the pot of chilli he’s been stirring absentmindedly at. ) ‘  the cops turn up, & i fuckin’ BOLT ‘cause i’ve got a backpack full o’ goddamn coke, & this hijo de puta’s still beggin’ me to blow him, fuckin’ got his goddamn dick out, & i’m like .. fuckin’ christ, it was so WILD. ’

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my dumb ass: highkey forgets that imessage wasnt even a thing in 1991

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@gcwans !

         IT’S NOT AN UNUSUAL ROUTINE. dante is troublingly f a m i l i a r with the spiraled path towards gowan’s apartment, & admittedly the initially-fraught quality to his visits has worn off, & now it’s not atypical to find the brunette, cancer stick bobbing merrily betwixt bitten petals, sauntering down to a door that he habitually finds himself at. glossy, ebony locks obscure his vision as a raised fist raps ( once, twice, thrice ! ) upon the thin surface that separates them ; he’d usually pick the damned lock, but he’s feeling AWFULLY CONSIDERATE today. ‘  knock, knock --- -- did you miss me ?  ’

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whispers .... like this for a personalised starter & if we haven’t plotted, i’ll ,, hit u up !!

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( c a r m e n. )

consolation from the only soul who’s able to bring tranquility to her even in a panicked state such as this one, the sweetest tenderness she’s ever known. dimples protrude as full lips curve into a grin, delicate arms wrapping around his torso. ‘ gracias a dios que estas aqui, ’ she breathes, burying her face into the material of his t-shirt, encompassed with the second-rate fragrance she’s loved from the moment it tickled her senses five years ago. the original prospect of finding luca is put on the back burner, carmen’s solicitousness escaping her now that she’s in her brother’s propinquity. ‘ no. encontrarlo ya no es importante. ’ she slips her hand into his and turns to face the tent she’d just stumbled out of, a crafty simper spread wide across her features. ‘ come, te mostraré. ’

               bona fide simper loose across BITTEN shapes,  carmen’s mere presence must be one of those ( BLISSFULLY R A R E ) moments where the taller is s o m e t h i n g close to DOTING. intransigent attitudes that once wrote themselves tight into the sharp delineations of his countenance soften, & give way to serenity that he finds in ( no one else ). ‘  estaba preocupado por tí. ’ lowly vocals are muffled by the way he presses yet another brief kiss to burnished tresses, & emerald tones graze steadily to the tent that she’s maneuvered them into facing. ‘  joder luca, drogarse. ... es este su nuevo lema ? me gusta. eres demasiado bueno para los hombres grasientos de todos modon --- -- A H O R A, vamos a llegar alto.  ’ she doesn’t have to articulate another roguish thought --- they’ve always been on SUCH a homologous plane.

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@dvmicn !

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( c a r m e n. )

six blunts and two edibles disguised as reese’s cups later, carmen stumbles out of what concert goers have nicknamed ‘the blazing tent’. to say she’s wrecked would be a disrespectfully severe understatement. hardly able to flutter her coffee-toned orbs completely open, she pauses for a moment in a hushed effort to gain composure - an effort that falls flat. ‘ dios ayúdame, ’ she mumbles as she outstretches her arms directly in front of her in order to stand as straight and still as possible. orbs catch sight of a familiar face, carmen parting her lips to call out to them. ‘ me puedes ayudar ? ’ she asks, so irrefutably stupefied that she doesn’t realize she’s speaking spanish. ‘ perdí a mi novio, ’ her accent is thick, words running together so hastily that even a person who was fluent in spanish would have a hard time understanding her. ‘ luca, sabes donde esta ? ’

          ‘  jesucristo, carmen !  ’ the consequential SIGH that parts bitten lips is nothing short of DIVERTED --- -- dante isn’t exactly sober himself ; bony arms lace around the petite female & he can barely contain a bemused s n o r t as carmine petals press a softened kiss to the TOP of her head. ‘  quieres que te ayude encontrarlo él ? luca ?  ’ ( to anyone else, it would A P P E A R that the two are spitting their own syllables in a seemingly gibberish language ; perhaps they are, but even in their garbled condition, dante will ALWAYS understand carmen’s words. ) ‘  dime, mana, cuánto has fumado ? que has fumado ?  ’

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( d a m i e n. )

part of it – part of why dante was the obvious choice to stand at damian’s side was his GIFTED way of dancing his way through their conversations, forcing stoic facial expressions to rise into something brighter. the next exhale was visibly sporadic, dark smoke against the night sky – leaving his lips in quick bursts, as he chuckled. ‘ you never do disappoint. ’ he shook his head, inhaling again. ‘ nothing new. ’ he repeats the other’s words back to them, ‘ being ON EDGE is just a fuckin’ occupational hazard. ’

           there’s something ABNORMALLY TRANQUIL about knowing that the other male is on his side, that damien is the closest semblance to a ( B E S T   F R I E N D ) that the brunette dares to have. nimble, inked digits dart forth, deft as they wrap round damien’s cigarette & tug it away, & the grin that etches itself onto incurvate cheeks is worth A MILLION DOLLARS ( ! )  as he inhales, brisk & intense before quiet syllables echo through the lightened atmosphere. ‘  i’d sooner d i e than disappoint. ... fuckin’ tell me about it. bein’ on edge, s’pretty much our constant state, isn’t it ?  ’

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3 AM or 3 PM, I do not care. I will be there, when you need me.

lostmusing (via wordsnquotes)