#* 𝆕 . . . v: 04. / i just saw my whole life flash before your eyes. 𝄒

[deatheless]

@fuebruja sent: are you going to make me do a ted talk about my devious inner world? / accepting.

mina hums thoughtfully, flipping over on the mattress and hanging her head off the edge of the bed to stare at noemi, doe eyes wide ( as though trying to see through her into said inner world ), before her expression splits into a decidely teasing grin.

❛ that depends, ❜ she says, finally, reaching a hand up to clumsily gesture in mid - air, palm tilting side to side in the universal eh gesture, ❛ just how deep does your devious inner world go? 'cause, like, if you don't have enough to talk about, i don't wanna listen to you repeating the same thing in different words to try to meet the word count, y'know? ❜ her hand flops backwards, reaching over her head and dangling off the bed as she stretches her hand in her friend's direction. her fingers wiggle playfully. ❛ but to be honest, i feel like you've got a lot going on in there. ❜

she laughs, reaching her arms up for one last stretch before moving back onto her stomach — hanging upside down like that was making her a little dizzy, though she'd never admit it — and resting her chin against her hands. ❛ like ... i've seen that look — and don't look confused, 'cause i know you know what look i mean — in your eyes before. i know what you're capable of, and you could totally use it for ... deviousness if you wanted to. which i feel like you could totally want to. ❜

[sondepoch]

XIX: Saeyoung's Route (Y/N)

Where Futures Begin

Life used to be simple for you. Peaceful. But the Savior had other plans for you, and in moments, she ruined what you thought was your one shot at happiness. Blinded by anger, you escaped the Mint Eye, but that triggered a series of events that would bring you further into the world of brothers Saeran and Saeyoung. And further into the twisted world of your love for them.

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

MASTERLIST

You couldn't be sure what time it was when you next woke up.

You knew that it had been afternoon when you were last awake, but as you stared out the windows, only darkness could be seen. Early in the morning or late at night, you concluded, after a moment of thinking.

Either way, a decent amount of time had passed. Saeyoung, still next to you, was in different clothes and his hair was washed, the fiery red now tamed and combed neatly. "Saeyoung?" You asked, using your voice to stir him from his slumber rather than your body, too afraid to move and bring forth a new wave of pain.

His eyes scrunched up and then opened, surprised. "You're awake?"

He sat in the bed and helped you into a sitting position, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek as if you were going to break at any second. "How do you feel, (Y/N)?" He picked up a glass of water and brought it to your lips. "Are you ready? The doctor is already here. We had him explain everything to Vanderwood so you don't need to worry about protecting your identity. We'll have the doctor on standby in case something goes wrong, but for the most part, Vanderwood will administer the-"

"My identity? Why would my identity need to be protected?" You asked.

Saeyoung looked away. "Let's talk about that when the Elixir is out of your system. We still don't know what it's doing to your mind."

The redhead extended an arm toward you, and you took it, allowing him to guide you toward a room you had never been in—Vanderwood's.

You poked your head in, surprised. The sheets had been changed and a tarp had been placed over the floor, the entire room converted into a makeshift hospital. There were several large pieces of equipment, and Vanderwood stood in the middle of it all, his hair pulled back into a low ponytail and his hands gloved. He pulled a surgical mask over his face. "Sit on the bed," He instructed.

You hesitated.

The only time you'd even come close to being in a hospital was when your orphanage had handed you off to a pediatrician's clinic for a week, and the worst of the machinery there was the needles they used to draw blood.

"What are you going to do?" You asked, not moving from your place.

"We'll filter the Elixir out of your blood. It's a pretty simple process...your blood goes into the machine and back into you. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. The doctor didn't give us any anesthetic, though, so..." Vanderwood nodded toward Saeyoung. "You should stay here with her, Lucie- erm, Saeyoung. This might hurt."

The redhead nodded, gently pushing you toward the bed, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead when you'd finally laid down on it. Knowing that he'd be with you the whole time made you feel a little better. Surprisingly, the fact that there would be no anesthetic didn't scare you much. After your primary and secondary commitments, and then having the Elixir directly in your bloodstream, you had built your tolerance for pain up. When Vanderwood made the first cuts into your skin, you barely felt the scalpel as it pierced your skin. 

Saeyoung squeezed your hand.

You thought about telling him you were be fine, but then realized that if you did...he'd pull his hand away. In all honesty, the thought of him doing that disturbed you more than the notion of pain, so you kept your lips shut and squeezed his palm back with a small smile.

Interestingly enough, your mental state had stabilized a bit between when you first were injected with the Elixir and now. Originally, the pain was so unbearable you could do little other than groan and shake, but it was as if your body had built grown accustomed to the pain. Is that a good thing, though?

You turned your head away as Vanderwood began pulling back the skin on your arm, easily grossed out by blood.

"Does it hurt?" Saeyoung asked, worry written on his normally relaxed face.

You chuckled. "Not as much as you probably think. I can handle this much." You flashed him a grin, as if that would prove your words, but Saeyoung still looked nervous.

He was about to respond when Vanderwood interrupted the two of you.

"Alright, everything's set up," The brunette took a step back and began removing his surgical gloves. "All we need to do is wait for the machine to filter your blood over the next few hours. Saeyoung, just monitor the numbers on the screen, and if you think something looks even a little wrong, make sure you tell me so that I-"

"I know, Vanderwood," Saeyoung said, chuckling. "I've helped you with medical missions before."

Vanderwood sighed, running a hand through his hair. Even he had his eyebrows scrunched up a little more than usual. You smiled. He cares about me more than he lets on, you realized.

He grumbled in protest, but Saeyoung ushered him out of the room.

"He acts all indifferent about you, but he he has a soft spot for you, ya know?" Saeyoung blurted the second the man was gone.

You grinned, having reached the same conclusion only seconds before. "Yeah," you mused.

"Everyone in your life cares about you, (Y/N). I hope you know that," Saeyoung mumbled, getting serious once more.

You bit your lip.

There were certainly exceptions to that. MC seemed to hate your guts, V (kind as he was) knew about the hostage trade and didn't stop Saeyoung. The Savior obviously resented you, and perhaps worst of all, you still had no news of Saeran.

Would the boy always think you had abandoned him? That you had never cared and that it was all a lie?

You could bear the thought of the others hating you, but no matter what happened...Saeran would always hold a special place in your heart.

"I want..." You began, unsure of how to communicate your desires. "I want to talk to Saeran."

Saeyoung's eyes widened, but you went on before he could say anything.

"You...You said he was here. At the cabin. I've been wanting to speak to him but," You laughed softly, but not in humor. "But I don't think he feels the same. I haven't seen him once since...since getting the injection."

Saeyoung's eyes rounded in surprise. "(Y/N), I promise you, Saeran doesn't feel like that. You've been awake for less than an hour in total over the past two days, so you might not have noticed, but he's checked on you every day. Even when I was with you, he came in and asked about your vitals and if you'd been drinking water and if-"

"Really?"

What Luciel said brought you so much hope.

You'd thought that your relationship with Saeran was unsalvageable. That with all the wrongs you had done against him and all the ways he had wronged you, he'd still be bitter.

For years now, he's been your closest friend, and often the only person to stand by you without fail. The past two months had been disastrous, a special circle in hell crafted just for you, but that didn't change the fact that Saeran and you had a history together.

And you were willing to do as much as was necessary to make sure that your friendship didn't go to waste.

"Should I bring him in?" Saeyoung offered, seeing the new light in your eyes.

You nodded your head and began mentally preparing yourself for what you'd say.

Barely thirty seconds passed before the twins were before you again, and as you stared at the two, you wondered why you hadn't realized earlier that they were related.

Truly two sides to the same coin, they were copies of each other, the only differences being the stark contrast in hair color and eye color. 

And the look of horror and pain on Saeran's face as he gazed down at you.

"Saeran, you're..." Saeyoung murmured softly, not willing to complete the sentence that you all knew the answer to.

Crying.

You watched for the first time ever as silent tears ran down Saeran's cheeks. He'd never been this vulnerable in front of you. Never.

"Don't..." Saeran began, the word sounding raw and shaky. "Don't look."

He took a step back, and you thought he was going to leave the room, but he simply hit the light switch and the room darkened. The only light source was the computer monitor which displayed your vitals, something that wouldn't be shut off any time soon.

The sound of sniffling filled the room, and you found yourself at a loss for words.

"(Y/N), I..." Saeran began. "I'm so sorry."

In that moment, you wanted to rip the tube out of your arm and run to the boy, hug him and hold him and cry with him. Instead, you bit your lip 

"Saeran..." You said, not sure where to begin. But the boy took your hesitation for anger.

"No, (Y/N), you don't have to say anything. I understand if you never want to see me again. Everything that happened was my fault, if only I could have been stronger, none of this would hav-"

"Saeran." Your eyes widened.

You had been the one who opened your mouth to interrupt, but Saeyoung had beaten you to it.

"Saeran, don't blame yourself," The older twin murmured. You couldn't see it, but you had no doubt that Saeyoung was hugging Saeran. "You were under the Elixir. I saw you. If you had enough in your system to be vomiting blue afterward, then there's no way you can be blamed for what your mind tricked you into doing."

You frowned, surprised by this revelation. "You...you were under the Elixir?"

The boy didn't respond, but his silence was an answer in itself.

You let out a sigh of relief. "How...how long, Saeran?"

You heard Saeyoung nudge him, and Saeran finally responded. "The Savior began giving me higher doses around the same time MC joined the Mint Eye. It doesn't excuse what I've done, (Y/N), I know that, and I'm so..."

You let Saeran ramble for a moment, giving him the opportunity to apologize when he didn't need to.

He was on the Elixir, you thought, the revelation giving you hope. Every time he ignored me and hurt me...it wasn't out of free will. It was all the Elixir.

It was a cruel liquid, the Elixir of Salvation.

The Savior used it for everything. She used it to brainwash disciples who questioned her authority. She used it to convince believers into believing in the magenta. She used it as a test during Primary and Secondary commitment. She used it to torture those she thought deserved punishing.

How many times did she give Saeran the Elixir? You wondered, slowly beginning to understand why he had looked at you with blank eyes so many times. Eyes are windows to the soul. When he cared for you and loved you, you saw affection in his eyes. When he was angry or disappointed, you saw the frustration in his eyes.

Over the past two months, though...his eyes had been blank. As if his mind were possessed by something else entirely. In your desperate search for answers as to why Saeran suddenly seemed to hate you, you had assumed that the blankness on his face was a product of his anger to you but now, you realized that the whole time, it was the Elixir.

Even when he injected you with the Elixir, it had been a decision reached under influence.

That goddamn liquid, you thought, suddenly more worried for Saeran's health than anything else. If the boy was throwing up blue, something you hadn't done during even your secondary commitment, the Savior truly must have gone overboard.

"(Y/N), please...I won't ask you to forgive me but just..." Your ears perked up as you heard Saeran's broken voice continue. "Just please don't die. I've caused you so much pain...but if you die because of this I won't be able to handle it. I know I deserve the pain and the blame and the grief, but please...please."

You wanted the lights to be on. You wanted to look Saeran in the eye and tell him everything would be okay.

That you were already feeling better and your life was most likely no longer in danger.

But you knew he wouldn't believe you, so instead, you simply said, "Saeran, come here." The boy moved forward, standing a foot away from you, unsure.

But you didn't waste a moment in hesitation. You grabbed his hand and pulled him into your bed, right next to you, and embraced him.

It had been nearly two months since the two of you had this level of closeness, and that seemed to push Saeran over the edge. He returned the hug for a moment, resting his head in the crook of your neck before the tears began flowing from him all over again.

Saeyoung left the room, shutting the door quietly, leaving the two of you.

It was a peaceful moment.

No words needed to be said.

You closed your eyes and shushed him as he mumbled apology after apology, holding him close for what felt like the first time in forever.

There was still a lot to talk about. A lot. But for a moment, it really felt like everything would be okay. 

MASTERLIST

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 |

Word count: 2.2k

Notes: Avatar: The Last Airbender is suchh a good show everyone should watch it

Comment & Like

Next Update: 3/12/20

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

[bisexualdaemon]

Gin and Juice: Part IV

a/n: In which a meeting takes place, Reader lies (again), and Shawn plays a big game.

The response to this series has been truly, truly incredible. I’ve gotten so much unexpected feedback and I love all of it. Keep liking, reblogging, and commenting! I always want to hear from you!

Previous parts are on my MASTERLIST

warnings: American football content, sorry for the jargon 😬

Shawn was pacing with nervous energy, jangling his keys in his pocket. Checking the time on his phone, he huffed and unlocked it, making sure that he’d sent her the right room number.

Study Room B038. Friday 5 PM.

It was 5:04. She was late. He had chosen this time specifically because he had an easy out if he needed to leave. Every Friday before a game, he had team dinner at Coach’s house at 7 PM, then the whole team left on buses to stay off-campus at a hotel to rest up and stay on curfew before the game. But, this girl, whoever she was, probably didn’t know the schedule, so he was free to make up any time that he had to leave with just a little white lie.

He heard the door knob turn and froze. Her head was bowed, shoulders forward, a posture it looked like she defaulted to, when she walked in. He couldn’t see her face behind the thick waves of soft brown hair hanging in the way. Not two steps into the room, she tripped over the nearest chair, heading straight for the floor.

Shawn took two big strides and caught her by the shoulders mid-fall. Her head popped up, locking wide ocean blue eyes with him. Recognition stirred, flashing images swimming in his vision. A spilled beer. A wet shirt. Looking back at those blue eyes and feeling the blush bloom on his face.

It was her.

He walked out of the living room, swimming with humanity, as fast as possible. Too many people. He could practically see his worth reflected in their eyes. They only saw what he could give them, what he could bring them. None of them knew or cared about him beyond the material or social value he held.

Lost in his thoughts, he rounded a close corner on his way to the kitchen for something harder to drink. It wasn’t until his cup fell out of his hand that he realized someone was there.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” he yelled over the noise of the party. At first, she just stood there, looking him up and down like she wasn’t quite sure if he was real. She swivelled her head up to look at him, and he inwardly gasped at her eyes. They looked like cerulean cut glass, so blue and yet so clear that he felt like he could see straight down to their core. It was as unsettling as it was exhilarating.

She still hadn’t made a move since he spilled his drink all over her. He took a survey of the damage, which allowed him to stare at her petite body for just a second longer  than he probably needed to. She was fucking cute as hell. Where did this girl come from? He realized he was looking at her instead of helping.

His head shot up toward the kitchen, seeing his idiot left tackle walking toward him, “HEY GEOFF!?! CAN YOU BRING ME A RAG OR SOMETHING??”

Shawn turned back to her, noticing her shivering. Why won’t she say something? He pleaded with her to talk to him with his eyes, softening his gaze like he would with a baby deer. She felt so cold, but he could see the sweat starting to collect on her brow.

Geoff finally returned with a rag and he started to help her by dabbing it on her chest. Her eyes widened in momentary panic, and she jumped half a foot away from him, out of his reach.

His face bloomed pink in mortification. He handed the cloth to her, stuttering apologies, clearly dropping the ball and wanting to escape as fast as possible. When he had gotten far enough away for her to not notice, he looked back. She was still standing there with those wide blue eyes staring. He really wished he could have heard her voice.

* * * * * * * * * *  

He held your shoulders for a beat too long. The look on his face reminded you of that night in the bathroom just before he had thrown up, but this time there was confusion mixed with a strange wonderment.

“Uh, Shawn?” you snapped, waving your fingers in his face, really needing him to stop touching you. His imposing figure and rough fingers on your skin made it difficult to breathe, let alone think. He blinked several times and shook his head, “sorry, sorry. Uhh, you’re late.”

“Thanks for pointing that out,” you said with a little edge in your voice, “I’ve been outside the door debating whether or not I should come in.”

The confusion in his face deepened, “you were going to stand me up?” He shook his head again, as if no one on the planet had ever suggested such insanity in his entire life. It would have been annoying if it weren’t so earnest. You rolled your eyes at him.

“It’s not about you...well not 100% about you,” you really weren’t here to divulge the nature of your social anxiety, “just never mind, why are we here?” You looked at him expectantly. The earnest expression had slowly morphed into something timid and slightly...embarrassed?

You were confused. He had wanted you to come here to talk but now he seemed like he was rethinking it. He was nervous about whatever he came to say. His eyes wandered to his feet, bound in leather Chelsea boots, as he kicked the carpet. His athletic legs were wrapped in the skinniest black jeans you’d ever seen. He ran his hands down the fabric clinging to his thighs and finally spoke.

“Uhm, yeah. So,” he looked off past your head, avoiding your eyes at all cost, “how badly would you be offended if I asked you your name?”

His cheeks flushed bright red as he wrung his hands in front of you. He looked like a small boy who knew he’d done something wrong. A very tall, very muscular, very gorgeous small boy. What had happened to that charm? You held your hand up to your face to hide the smile that threatened.

He didn’t remember your name. Did he remember anything about that night? Did you want him to? It had been six days since that night, so if he was going to remember something, it probably would have happened by now. Maybe you could play this off, just tell him your name and make something up about what happened after he blacked out. You could put this whole thing to bed once and for all. It seemed like that might put him at ease.

You let the laughter bubble up to the surface. It sounded strange to your ears, a little too high-pitched and a little too effervescent, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice. You had to make this casual, had to make it believable. He couldn’t know you were lying. You reached out and touched his bicep.

“Oh, it’s fine, Shawn,” you giggled, telling him your name, voice dripping with nonchalance, “you’re a busy guy, and we were both drunk at that party.”

He looked puzzled for a minute, but then smoothed his brow, nodding, “Yeah, yeah we were.”

“You really don’t remember?” you asked, trying for incredulous, “we hung out in the kitchen for a bit. I grabbed your hand and wrote my number. It was innocent.” By the end, the pitch in your voice had climbed three octaves. Maybe he would think you were crazy and that would solve all of your problems.

“But, why didn’t you want to meet with me? In public?” he asked, sounding hurt. Shit. You grasped for idea strings in the giant ball of twine in your mind. This was starting to get complicated and you weren’t sure how long you could keep it up.

“Uhm, I was embarrassed,” you mumbled, sounding more convincing, “I basically threw myself at you and you didn’t want me that night. I really didn’t want to face that in the light of day. I didn’t want anyone who might see me with you to ask questions later.”

“Oh,” he said, scrubbing the nape of his neck and looking almost remorseful. Maybe this was working. He glanced at you out of the side of his eye and you thought he might attempt to poke holes in your story. But instead, he just shrugged violently, “well, I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

He sounded like he might have meant that in some way other than in reference to your lies. Both of you stood there awkwardly, shifting weight in opposite directions. You were getting dizzy from the boat-rocking sensation. He looked placid, blank.

“Well,” he said, exhaling breath he must have been holding, “I have to go to team dinner.” He turned to open the door wide, but before he stepped through, the composed look in his eyes faded and let a pleading traitor in. It reminded you of the look he gave you that night when he spilled his drink on you—like he just needed you to say something to let him in.

It only lasted for a second, replaced by cool detachment, an essential ingredient in his chainmail of charm. He took a stride through the door and called out behind his shoulder, “it was nice meeting you!”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the basement study room with a sneaking suspicion that you had just made a huge mistake.

* * * * * * * * * *  

He buckled up his pads over his shoulders and tightened the laces on his cleats. The locker room was noisy, loud rap music playing over the A/V system to pump everyone up. Shawn knew he wasn’t in the right headspace. He knew that he shouldn’t have a pair of blue eyes stuck in his head. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about her shoulders, so delicate beneath his hands. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about how she lied to him.

What was she trying to hide?

He couldn’t figure out her angle. She had no idea that he remembered seeing her earlier at the party. The fact that she hadn’t mentioned it was his first red flag. But, she didn’t know that he had a clear memory of her that night. She didn’t know that her behavior in the library betrayed the girl he’d spilled beer on and silently begged to speak to him.

He still felt like he hadn’t heard her real voice.

“OKAY BOYS,” Coach Bradford yelled as the team made its way through the tunnel, getting ready to run out onto the field, “EVERY GAME IS FULL OF INFINITE CHOICES. MAKE SURE YOU CHOOSE THE RIGHT ONES.” Always a last minute cheesy pre-game line to make us think about the philosophical reasons to play the game, “LET’S GO PLAY SOME FOOTBALL.”

Every time Shawn burst out of that tunnel and onto the field, the deafening roar of the crowd took his breath away. It was one of the rushes that kept his running out here every fall, every week, every minute. This week was rivalry week and the crowd was even more live than usual.

He looked out into the crowd, something he wasn’t accustomed to doing. He hated seeing the hungry eyes of all the people there expecting him to win the game for them. But, this week, he scanned for a familiar pair of blue eyes. A crazy endeavor because there was no way he would see her in the ocean of people surrounding the field, but he flipped through a thousand pairs of eyes nonetheless.

“MENDES,” Geoff screamed over the crowd, “GET OVER HERE.” He ran over and butted foreheads with his left tackle, their pre-game ritual. He positioned his mouthguard, made the sign of the cross, and dug his cleats into the turf. The whistle blew, flying high above the cheers.

Shawn should have known it wasn’t going to go his way when he thought he saw her during the first quarter. He lined up at the five-yard-line looked out above the line, called the play, and snapped the ball. Behind his receiver, he caught a flash of blue that made him pause. He took an extra breath, changing his tempo, and let the ball fly directly into the hands of his opponent.

It got worse from there. After three fumbles, two more interceptions, and five missed tackles, Shawn felt like he was taking an ass-kicking. He couldn’t get her out of his head. Somehow they were tied, thanks to a couple of great defensive plays and a lucky run after a handoff, and heading into the two-minute warning, he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. A loss could jeopardize everything—the conference championship, a national championship bid, his Heisman chances. The weight of the potential disappointment pressed against his chest.

They moved the ball down the field, killing clock until it was the last twenty seconds from the ten. He had one play left to get the ball in the endzone. He dug the ball of his foot into the turf at the line of scrimmage. Crouching behind his lineman, Shawn called the play, “BLUE-42! BLUE-42! HURRY!” He took one last breath in, “HIKE!”

Everything moved in slow motion. He faked the handoff to his running back, leaning back. He pumped once, twice, closed his eyes against the deep blue threatening his vision, and let the ball fly.

to be continued...

So did he win the game? Tell me your theories! 

Taglist: @abigfatmess @lifeofthedarty @coffeebringsmelife @transparentjudgepicklething @super-fire-breathing-girl @infiniteshawn @lietomeat3am @lavieenbananabread @blue-skies-are-alright @song-bird-shawn @disappointingyellowhighlighter @brittanyzelazno @lifeofthedarty @sowhatshawn @stillinskislydia @hiterase 

[deatheless]

@curseplay sent: the first face i wanted to see was yours. / accepting.

quietly, like a confession ( and maybe, in a way, it is. ) : ❛ me too. ❜ it always is.

she's aware that it really is kind of crazy of them to be doing this. considering how horribly, pathetically, deeply in love with paris she is, sharing a bed with her is probably the last thing she should be doing. but when they come knocking at her door, sad eyes matching her own and remnants of a nightmare clinging to the tremor in their voice, how can she say no?

( when she's laying in bed and she feels like she can't breathe and no matter how hard she tries she can't fall asleep but she knows laying next to her, warm and known and safe, will help, how can she say no? )

her fingers are curled tight in their curls, their arm resting loosely against her good side, the two of them laying side by side and nearly nose to nose — her chest is empty, but somehow, she swears she can still feel her heart racing. they're playing a dangerous game here, really. she can probably count on one hand the amount of nights she's spent alone since they all arrived at the watts house, and considering they've been there nearly two weeks so far ...

she knows this isn't normal, and they're running out of ways to pretend it is. just friends don't do this, even friends who just barely dodged a tragedy together. she knows that. but their legs are intertwined with hers, and she can feel their heart beating against her chest, and maybe it's a bad idea, but she really doesn't want it to stop.

❛ but 's okay, now, ❜ she murmurs again, voice starting to grow heavier with sleep, ❛ 'cause you're here now. and i'm here. ❜ mina smiles, hazily, as she reaches up to poke paris' nose, and then her own cheek with a lilting giggle. ❛ my face is here. so you can go back to sleep now, 'cause it'll be here in the morning too. first thing ... ❜ it'll always be here, as long as you want me. i hope you want me.

[deatheless]

@b4rren sent: it's not haunted or anything. / accepting.

❛ yeah, i've heard that before. ❜ and then she died, so. forgive her for not being so easily convinced.

mina frowns, popping up onto her tiptoes to peer down the hallway suspiciously, fingers twitching anxiously against each other from inside her pockets. she can't really pinpoint what it is, but something about this hotel is making her feel ... weird. after a moment of staring at — well, nothing, really, if she's being honest with herself, she finally drops back onto her heels with a sigh. just a whole bunch of quiet hotel rooms and some really ugly interior decorating, which she has to admit, while an eyesore, doesn't necessarily make it dangerous. maybe she's just overthinking it. it's really fucking quiet for a hotel, but maybe they've just got good soundproofing. or a really empty floor.

❛ you're probably right, ❜ she says, turning to face hamza with a sheepish smile, holding her hands up in teasing defense. ❛ maaaaaybe i have been getting a little too used to the nice places i'm starting to get on tour, sue me. ❜

[deatheless]

as soon as her knuckles hit the door, mina thinks : sorry for the heart attack, marcy. she also thinks : this might be one of the craziest ideas she’s had in a while. but ... her whole life’s been a little crazy lately, so can you blame her? it’s kind of hard to keep her thoughts on track when everything feels like it’s spiralling lightning - fast out of her control.

it’s not like her showing up at marcy’s is strange on its own, but, well — she usually would let her know in advance. which she ... definitely didn’t do this time. she's not even sure marcy knows her tour ended. as she stands under the moonlight, the silence once the echo of her knock has faded away nearly defeaning, mina suddenly wonders if they’re even home. now that she thinks about it, they could easily be at work, which — y'know, this is normally why you call first before showing up at someone's house, mina. but she keeps standing there, suitcase she didn’t even bother unpacking clutched tight in her hands, and she waits. hopes. somehow, she has a good feeling about this. or as good as she’s able to feel lately, which isn’t very much, buts it's something. ( she always has a good feeling about marcy. )

before she can talk herself either into knocking again or out of turning on her heel and walking away, the click of a door unlocking breaks the silence, and she holds her breath. the door swings open, familiar head of messy hair poking out, and mina stares wide - eyed as though she’s the one that ought to be surprised to see them. her chest is empty tonight, deathly still and too - quiet, but a flicker of comforting warmth sparks to life when she meets their eyes.

❛ hi, ❜ she says, breathless, before realizing she probably owes her an explanation. ❛ sorry, i was — i was gonna call, but then i just, uh ... didn't. hi. ❜ a small smile, heat biting at the tips of her ears. ❛ missed you. ❜

@huntrhaunt

[deatheless]

@swervdcity sent: i prefer hanging out with people who are dead for 200 years. it's the live ones that throw me. / accepting.

❛ oh. uh. ❜ the confusion on her face would be less comical if she didn't so resemble a frightened deer. sure, she can tell it's a joke, and a pretty kind one at that, but that doesn't mean it doesn't throw her off regardless.

you'll have to forgive her, she's still getting used to this. josey clearly already has for quite some time now, but the blasé way he talks about their sort-of-shared situation is still very new to her.

( from what she understands, it's not very similar at all, if you're being technical, but dead is dead, right? or sort of dead, at least. )

after what feels like ages to her ( in reality, really only a few seconds ), she speaks again. ❛ well, i, uh ... haven't been. for, um. that long, at least. but i hope that's still cool. ❜ her attempt at a joke back is interrupted by the scrunch of her nose. something occurs to her. she blinks. ❛ but — neither have you, right? ❜ oh, the implications of that kind of makes her wish he was referring to himself. when she speaks again, it seems like she'd rather be saying anything else. her voice comes out stilted, an obvious undercurrent of discomfort running through her words. ❛ do you — uh. do you know ... many people who ... have been dead for 200 years? ❜

[deatheless]

@lastimad sent: i happen to dress based on my mood. / accepting.

yeah, that explains very little, josey.

but it's josey, so she probably should've known better than to expect an actual explanation, huh? at least he's in one piece, right?

❛ ... sure, ❜ mina says after a lengthy pause, nose scrunched up slightly as she attempts to take him in. there's ... something wet on his shirt. and on his pants. and in his hair. she ... doesn't really want to know what it is. on closer look, the bottoms of his jeans are darkened with more than just wet, there's something else — is that dirt?

❛ and, uh — ❜ she hesitates, as though afraid of the answer ( and in a way, she kind of is ), her hand coming up to gesture vaguely in his direction, ❛ what ... mood is that? 'cause right now all i'm getting is, like ... wet. and i don't think that's a mood. and if it is, i don't wanna hear about it. ❜

she sniffs, nose wrinkling, and gestures towards his feet.

❛ also, you're dripping on my floor. not cool, dude. ❜

[deatheless]

@stvrsold sent: this place brings out the worst in all of us. / accepting.

❛ yeah, you can fuckin' say that again. if someone tries to subtly promo their shit to me again, i might just start screaming. ❜ she's in an uncharacteristically bad mood. or, more accurately, she's uncharacteristically letting her bad mood show, when normally any and all negative sentiments are usually locked up tight. especially in public, which this party ( a birthday, she thinks — for some big-shot who'd asked her and charlie to make a appearance that they definitely couldn't say no to ) certainly counts as. on a normal night, she'd have that big smile plastered on as she makes her way from conversation to conversation, unphased by the shining lights and shinier facades, but the brightest she can manage so far was offering the bartender a look of relief and an extra fifty when she'd filled her glass a little higher than expected.

she's just so tired.

they're fresh off of a five show run, which came only two days after a three show run, which came after ... well, you get the gist. while she's no stranger to a touring schedule, that doesn't make it any less exhausting. add in a party she doesn't want to go to full of celebrities they hardly even know, and you've got a recipe for a very grumpy girl.

she takes another sip of her drink, dark eyes flashing across the room, before she turns her attention back towards charlie. her expression turns teasingly pleading, though there's probably more than a little sincerity in it. ❛ you think we've been here long enough to justify leaving already? the hotel bed is calling my name, charlie.  ❜

[deatheless]

@eulogier sent: where is he? i'll beat him with my fist! / accepting.

❛ whoa, whoa, whoa, tough guy, hold on! ❜ mina practically lunges onto olivier's arm, laughter bubbling from her chest as she tugs him closer, as though afraid he would dart away, fists flying, the moment she let go. as funny as the image this conjures is, she kind of doesn't want him to get his ass kicked tonight, so stopping him is probably key. disbelief and amusement clear on her face, she shakes her head with another laugh, doe eyes wide in fond surprise. that is not the reaction she expected from her groan of ugh, some guy just tried to, like, pet my hair! — though on second thought, it probably should've been. whoops.

❛ you are not beating anyone, oh my god! it's fine, i just wanted to bitch! ❜ she laughs, still clinging to his arm despite neither of them having moved since her intial grab. she's not totally sure why she hasn't let go yet, but she doesn't really want to. there's a warmth in her chest, but she's pretty sure that's just the alcohol. and speaking of ...

❛ oh, hey, the line at the bar is finally shorter! ❜ oh, here's where her grip comes in handy! it's easy to start tugging him along when she's already holding him. and she does, pulling him along with her as she swerves them through the crowd, twisting around to shoot him a grin once they finally reach the bar. ❛ who's turn is it, again? mine? ❜

[deatheless]

@curseplay sent: you're the only one here i feel i can actually talk to. / accepting.

for once, she's grateful for the silence in her chest right now. the pounding of her heart would've been unbearable otherwise. the way she can hardly breathe from the way paris is looking at her ( like they're the only people to exist, like she really means what she's said ) is bad enough. if she didn't know any better, she'd think ...

she does know better, though. and she's lucky enough as is, so daydreaming will get her nowhere.

❛ hey, come on, that's not fair to lauren and andie... ❜ but her protest comes half-heartedly, voice dying out as she opts to fiddle with a strand of her hair instead, hoping the tugging feeling on her scalp will bring her back to reality. get a fucking grip, amina!

but she can't pretend she doesn't know exactly what they mean, because she feels the same way. it's nothing against the rest of their friends, but — well, how could anyone compare? how can you expect them to? there's an understanding here mina's never felt before. curse to curse, ghost to ghost. it's something she'd resigned herself to believing would never happen, the better part of the last year or so having been spent trying to come to terms with knowing no one would be able to really know her ever again. here they are, though. when paris looks at her, it feels like every wall she's ever put up comes crumbling down. that should be terrifying. sometimes it is. but then they take her hand, or touch her hair, flashing a smile, and the fear dissipates. when paris looks at her, she really, really wants them to. sometimes, she wants them to look even closer than they already do. she wants them to see everything there is to see.

somehow, the hand that had tangled itself into her hair has found it's way to paris' hand, and she has to stop herself from looking down in surprise when she feels a callused thumb brush against her knuckles. when did they — ?

before she knows it, the words tumble out of her, as though they're being coaxed out by each brush of their thumb against her skin. it's become so easy to talk to them nowadays.

❛ i know what you mean. i don't ... god, i wish i could stay on tour with you guys a little longer. ❜ she really does. as excited as she is to get to her own dates, she can't pretend she wouldn't be almost just as happy accompanying silk for the next few months. she laughs a little, her free hand gesturing in the air as she tilts her head from side to side. ❛ like, okay, i'm, like, crazy excited to really get out there and see everyone, obviously, but ... ❜ she shakes her head, the grip on their hand tightening as the smile on her face grows a shade sadder. ❛ i’m just — i'm not ready for you not to be here. to not be here with you. ❜

[deatheless]

@silkplay sent: we have to banish him. / accepting.

against her will, she has to be the voice of reason. where's andie when you need them?

( actually, they'd probably agree with lauren in this case. which — not helpful. )

❛ laur, this is a public space. we literally can't do that. ❜ despite her words, her grip on her glass tightens, and she finds herself wishing it was fuller than it is. taking a swig of what's left, mina twists her body to the side, forcing her gaze to the opposite end of the club and hopefully obscuring lauren's view at the same time. out of sight, out of mind, right? it's worked well enough for her so far, hasn't it?

it's her fault for dating another musician, anyway. you can never really escape your contemporaries. especially when you're trying to.

( also her fault for spilling to lauren that spencer was here in the first place, but it wasn't like she really had any other option when she'd already noticed mina freeze up, eyes fixed across the room, and demanded to know who she was looking at. what else was she supposed to do but tell her? )

when lauren's gaze doesn't break, that characteristic furrow in her brow as though she's plotting the best way to cause his demise, mina realizes she may need to literally take matters into her own hands. her hand slips around her waist, turning her around and patting the small of her back to move her forward. andie and paris had to be around here somewhere, right? a sick feeling crawls up her throat, and she takes another sip to wash it down.

❛ it's fine, anyway. it's been ages, i was just — surprised to see him here, y'know? ❜ her voice comes out quicker than she intends, like she needs to force the lie out before her brain can catch up and correct it. he seemed surprised, too. she wonders if he really saw her, or he was just looking in her direction, and she's the one who's stuck.

god. her hand slips from lauren's waist to grab her hand, tugging her along a bit quicker, hoping the frantic feeling in her chest isn't as noticeable as she feels like it is. her free hand brings her glass back up to her lips, willing the shock of sugar and familiar sting at the back of her throat to wake her the fuck up for good this time. ❛ c'mon, i wanna see if we can talk this dj into playing something actually good for once. ❜

[deatheless]

@loetise sent: i know how to take a punch. / accepting.

even four drinks in, mina knows this is a bad idea. possibly the worst idea in the world, actually.

❛ yeah, uh — i say this with, like, all the love in the world, but there's no way that's true. ❜ her arm slips around allie's waist from behind, tugging her backwards until they're face to face once more. she keeps her hands poised against her sides, like she's worried she might try to dart around her to reach the bar. she's not sure if she's actually that determined, or if she was even all that serious at all, but she's so not risking it. still resting her hands against allie's sides, she turns her head to glance behind her, turning back with a wince before she even sees anything — the sound of another punch is all she needs to hear. yeah, definitely not risking it.

despite being the one holding allie back, she can't help her own annoyance. who starts a fight right in front of the bar? people are trying to get drinks here, you know! she was looking forward to lucky number five, after all. but, after another glance —

❛ yeah, no drink is worth us getting caught in that crossfire, ❜ she says, decisively, as she starts to lead the two of them further across the room. it only takes a few more seconds before her brief stint of clarity fizzles away and a giggle erupts, her hand lifting to poke at one of allie's pink cheeks, a perfect match to the flush on her own face. ❛ i was joking when i said we should sneak past it! oh my god! could you imagine? ❜

[deatheless]

@silkplay sent: i'm beginning to be very fond of you. / accepting.

❛ only beginning? man, looks like i gotta work harder! ❜ it's funny. if this had been even just a year ago, mina probably would've done a double take, and definitely would've spent the evening thinking way too hard about if she was actually serious or just joking. as it stands, instead, she slings her arms around lauren's waist, hugging her close and resting her chin on her shoulder as she fixes her with a cheeky smile. if it had a straw, she would've tried to steal a sip from lauren's drink, too.

it's true that she somehow managed to escape the worst of lauren's ire, if andie's constant surprise in the first few weeks of them having known each other ( or knowing each other now, if she's being pedantic ) was any sort of indication, but that didn't make her any easier to read. sure, she could tell that lauren didn't totally hate her, but she sure wasn't arrogant enough to assume that meant she liked her, instead. it took an embarrassingly long while before she realized lauren affectionately referring to her as their baby wasn't solely teasing, and that she was genuinely serious.

and now she's clinging to her mid-party, making fun of her for pretending to be annoyed with her. proof of progress!

( privately, she thinks it's because she doesn't really believe in lauren's whole heartless bitch schtick, not in the slightest, but she'd never say that out loud. mostly, she just thanks her lucky stars. )

❛ you're lucky andie's wrangling paris and didn't hear you say that. they'd be pulling out the itemized list of times you've been nice to me again.  ❜

[deatheless]

@silkplay sent: felt like i had to rescue you from that situation. / accepting.

industry parties really bring out a special breed of guy, mina thinks, and not one she's particularly keen on interacting with. if she's being entirely honest, she zoned out at least three minutes ago ... which also happens to be the reason she keeps missing the small windows of opportunity to leave, only catching on to the slight pauses in his speech seconds too late — right after he launches into another spiel about how he can totally bring her production to another level or ... something like that. she's really not sure. the only thing she can be thankful is that she wore her heels tonight, so at least they're eye to eye — a protection for both her neck and her dignity.

she's not really sure how much more smiling and nodding and oh yeah, that's super cool, i bet you're really great's she can do before something cracks ( either her composure, or the glass in her hand ). thankfully, it looks like she won't have to pick up any shards.

while the feeling of a hand on the small of her back initially sends a chill running down her spine, it's quickly replaced by the warmth of a very familiar voice in her ear, and she's never in her life been more thankful for the existence of andie king ( and that's saying something, because she is frequently very thankful for the existence of andie king ). she's not even sure what they say to whatever his name is, she didn't care to catch it to shut him up, but before she knows it, they're leading her through the crowd towards the couches in the corner, arm wrapped tight around her waist, and she swears she could kiss them.

❛ ugh, yeah, holy shit. ❜ as they sit down ( her legs draped across their lap, as usual ), mina drops her head to the side with a groan, cheek smushing against their shoulder as she fixes them with all the melodrama she can muster. ❛ have i told you recently that you're my hero? ❜ with a playful smile, she reaches up to poke at the bottom of their shades, lifting them just enough that she can meet their eyes. ❛ 'cause you're seriously my hero. ❜

[deatheless]

tag dump 2

* 𝆕 . . . prompt. / is it too much to ask? 𝄒

* 𝆕 . . . answer. / sing another song for the people i love. 𝄒

* 𝆕 . . . v: 01. / you're alive and you're on fire. 𝄒

* 𝆕 . . . v: 02. / just been sparking the lighter. 𝄒

* 𝆕 . . . v: 03. / pushed myself off of a tightrope. 𝄒

* 𝆕 . . . v: 04. / i just saw my whole life flash before your eyes. 𝄒

* 𝆕 . . . v: 05. / you can be nowhere all of the time. 𝄒

* 𝆕 . . . v: 06. / you get your dreams for free. 𝄒