flownintothesun

[flownintothesun]

Super random but I got a $50 NEX (Navy Exchange) and a $50 Commissary gift card that I can't use because I'm not affiliated with the military. I reached out to the source but they don't want them back. So - if anyone knows anyone who shops both places it would be great if I could get them off of my hands for half price. That way I know someone's going to use them and it helps me out in the meantime. So if anyone has friends or family in the military... save $50? LOL

Also, I still have the Borderline Personality Disorder Workbook that I'm willing to give away to someone who has BPD and needs help working through things. That, I am totally willing to send/ship for free. I found out last year that I don't have BPD, that it's auDHD instead. The book is essentially new. I worked through it on my computer instead of in the book itself and it has a lot of helpful stuff in it. All I ask is that the person yoinking it please have BPD so I can be sure it's going to a good home where it can help someone.

#⋆ 🌣 ⋆ ── 𝐎𝐔𝐓-𝐎𝐅-𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 ┊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑒.

[flownintothesun]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒. I hope that you’re all doing well. For me, things have been incredibly busy this year and don’t show much of a sign of slowing down. That said, I am gradually working toward coming back. I wrote a couple of things on here for the first time in months today and stuffed them in the queue, though I do have to tell you my ability to write short things is still nonexistent.

Once I get caught up, I’m going to make a couple revisions to my pages and make a post about it and get queue rolling again. I’m still going to just be gentle with myself and take my time, so no saying when things are going to happen — but thank you for your patience and for being here. Let me know if you want to start fresh, that’s totally fine. I’d just rather know before responding. As a reminder, this is lovepurposed, we changed URL!  More announcements to follow. But I hope you’re all having a lovely and magical day, wherever you are. 🌣

#⋆ 🌣 ⋆ ── 𝐎𝐔𝐓-𝐎𝐅-𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 ┊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑒. #⋆ 🌣 ⋆ ── 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 ┊ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒.

[flownintothesun]

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄

RULES: Answer the questions with the Muses that would best fit the answers. Bonus if you give details why.

1) Rank your softest Muse and your toughest Muse. (Personality-wise) : This is super hard and I actually reached out to @batteredoptimist to ask them. Francis is definitely the softest. From there, I would say it depends on the definition of ‘soft’ because they’re soft in different ways. I would say probably then Marin, Westley, Mariano, Lucienne... agreeing with Nonny here.

2) Which Muse would blow through $1000 quickly? : ...Depends on the circumstance. I think any of them would and could if they had it and it wasn’t all they had.

3) Do any of them have nicknames? Is there a meaning behind them? : Mmm... so for Francis, not really. His mother used to call him her sunshine. Westley is Wes but ONLY to his dads or to Muriel (no one else can get away with it). Nonny and I lovingly call him a little shit, too. Marin doesn’t. Luci is short for Lucienne. Mariano doesn’t have a nickname, though his wife calls him her teddy bear which is adorable.

4) Are any of them up-to-speed on the latest trends? Anyone more old school? : I think that of all of them, probably Mariano for appearance-sake, and Marin if she’s with Dominik or Luther because they dress her (ew.)

5) Who has the best relationship with their siblings? : I don’t think any of them have a bad relationship? Francis and Luci have never met each other and don’t know the other exists. Westley and Marin aren’t blood siblings but I think they’d love each other dearly. Mariano is a very doting older brother to his sisters, though he’s indifferent to his brothers.

6) Karaoke night! Who is likely to grab the mic first and bust out a tune? : Francis or Marin.

7) Who is least likely to enter a beauty pageant/model? : Westley.

8) If your Muses visited a haunted house where actors scare you, who would panic and who would be unfazed? : Francis, Westley and Mariano would be unfazed. Luci and Marin might be scared but try not to show it.

9) Are any of your Muses particular about taking certain modes of transportation? : Westley is drawn to the water and also he can’t drive to save his life. The rest of them I haven’t really thought about, except Mariano who loves both sailing and his fast Ferrari.

10) Share a little-known fact about any Muse : 1) Francis can hear a song once and play it back perfectly ; 2) Westley can’t drive and it’s scary as hell if he tries ; 3) Marin knows how to paint ; 4) Luci is the best of my characters with a gun ; 5) Mariano is dyslexic and has reading comprehension issues.

Tagged by : @realmyths a million years ago (thank you! ♡) I tag: Anyone who sees this. Tag me so I can get reacquainted with your muses. ♡

#⋆ 🌣 ⋆ ── 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 ┊ 𝑎 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡-𝑖𝑓𝑠. #⋆ 🌣 ⋆ ── 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 ┊ 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖'𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦.

[flownintothesun]

      𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄 and completely oblivious to how people see him — to how they perceive him. He’s been painfully aware for a long time now how Elio looks after him when he leaves the room, and how sparks fly when Westley dares to meet his gaze. What he doesn’t understand is the depth of emotion behind it. This might have happened much sooner if Westley could be certain that it was just sex between them. But as Elio blushes and glows in the firelight, as lips glide against lips and the lad’s fingernails rake into his back, he knows what he’s always known — that somewhere, the fairytale got twisted, and Elio had fallen in love with the monster. Maybe he doesn’t know — and how could he?

       The problem is that Westley sees his own monsters everywhere he looks. Paranoia will be the death of him. Or, if he cannot die — then it will be the death of his heart. To him, everyone has ulterior motives, and what protects him is staying apprised of exactly what those motives are. For his men, it’s gold. In the beginning, he’d thought Elio had come along for the adventure of it. Westley’d never asked to be the adventure. But he hadn’t said no, either. He’d tried to distance himself — and somehow they’d still ended up right here in his bed, salty and shivering with the sea.

     Their lips are smearing together in a kiss when brazen hands grab a handful of his ass and he moans low against Elio’s mouth, lips trembling for it. Westley’s never been afraid of sex — he has as healthy a sexual appetite as anyone else and has slept with a number of people, all different and beautiful in their own way — guys, girls, people who were neither. He’s been on top, he’s been on bottom, he’s taken and given and truthfully, he loves all of it equally. He’s familiar with the spark of good sexual chemistry — but the fire burning inside of him now is something else entirely. He’s spent his entire remembered existence trying not to leave any lasting marks on society as a whole. And yet, he wants to mark Elio Perlman thoroughly, permanently, desperately. Fuck, what has this bright-eyed lad done to him?

       “You sure?” he teases in a mumble, moving his lips along Elio’s jaw, up to his ear, nipping at the lobe and whispering, “You sure you weren’t trying to see if I’d jump in and save you, sweetheart?” He mouths down the graceful column of Elio’s neck. As for the rest of it, Westley’s undecided. Maybe he will make Elio come that fast and make a game of how fast he can work him back up again. He has no plans to be any less than unforgiving to the lad who made his cold heart beat when all he’d wanted it to do was die in peace.

"I wanted to see you." Elio somehow manages to bring out, fully aware that he's sending mixed signals but then again his mind doesn't seem to properly work right now. "I just meant slow down with everything else. Unless you want me to come so fast…" Admitting this out loud made him feel bashful and his cheeks turned a dark shade of red. It was ridiculous really how fast his body was ready for him. All that fantasizing and not being able to act on it hadn't helped either but he was not about to admit that out loud.

Lifting his hips upwards he helps Westley get rid of his last pieces of clothing that end up somewhere on the floor of the cabin with the rest. It seemed however that the captain wasn't planning on slowing down and truthfully Elio didn't mind it. The way his hair is being pulled causes him to moan and he gasps when he feels a cold hand on his cock. It's such a stark contrast to his own warm body that he doesn't even notice the way the captain is trembling. His hips jerk upward into his hand wanting more friction. "It was an accident." He counters in between kisses and bites and hand movements from both of them. Both of them are equally desperate.

His hands squeeze Westley's ass and a sound that he can't remember ever having made before leaves his mouth when he starts pumping him. He has done this before that much is clear to him now. Not that it mattered if there had been others. Not right now, perhaps it wouldn't even matter when he could think straight again.

All night. Well fuck. Now that is something to look forward to. His question comes as a nice surprise considering they are already in his bed and he nods, before realizing he might not see it, and croaks out, "Yes… Done this before."His own body is squirming, heels digging in the mattress and it feels like his skin is on fire, and the way the other male is looking at him as if he's the most gorgeous thing he has ever seen in his life… His nails are digging into Westley his back in a way that will leave a mark but he's barely aware of doing it. Lips finding lips for another heated kiss while his hips thrust upwards into his hand.

#wehavefoundthestars #➤ 𝟶. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙾𝙾𝙻 ┊ westley mccarthy. #➤ 𝚠𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 ┊ elio & westley ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟐.) #♡ 𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙾 & 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚈 ⤷ and don’t you wish you hadn’t learned the hard way why they name storms after people? #sexual content cw

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    ❛ 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭, 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨. ❜ (𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚 @ 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢)

                                    ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝟒𝟎𝟒 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. ( @batteredoptimist )

       𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋 — and she’ll be damned if that isn’t exactly what the whole of this situation feels like. It’s as though she’s cornered with no escape — with only teeth and claw to try to make her way in the world, like she is just biding her time for the right person to get too close to her cage. But Romana’s not her victim — could never be so. She is more a victim of the same system, and — what was she thinking again? One breath and the entirety of it is lost to the intoxicating scent of chai tea and cinnamon, the spices of Romana’s hair and skin. Luci drags her fingernails gently along her friend’s sides. The dress clings to her beloved’s skin in a way that probably has half of the compound at mass on Sundays begging for forgiveness just from looking at her.

      God may forgive them, but Lucienne won’t. She remembers all of their faces — and there is nothing — nothing in the world that she wouldn’t do to keep Romana with her. They’d taught her to shoot a gun so that she could protect herself when she was just a young thing. They don’t know how readily she’d turn it on them if it meant she got to keep this...got to keep her. Maman says it’s an obsession — and Luci doesn’t care what it is, because it’s as much a necessity as breathing. She needs Romana and her lipstick-smeared lips, the coaxing velvet of her voice, kisses that feel like molten lava and touches that soothe like rain on her scorched soul.

      She only keeps Romana a secret to protect her. Not because she wants to. But she can’t deny there’s something in the thrill of hiding, the zip of fear that they might get caught as Romana slams Luci’s hips back into the wall and begins to sink to her knees. Luci can feel the fabric of her own dress rising — Romana’s breath warm against the wet spot in her lacy panties as black-manicured fingers loop under them and tug them down. Lucienne’s fingers run into her girl’s hair, her lips parted and head fallen back against the wall. “You...” she gasps, parting her legs — feeling how slick she is when Romana’s calloused finger slips between her folds.

       “Mm?” Romana hums in question as she presses an infuriating kiss to one of Luci’s thighs.

      “You,” Luci repeats shakily, pulling Romana back to look at her, “You’re what I’m into. If I have to keep you a secret to have you, then so be it. But Romana?” she says, almost sweetly in a purr as she laces her fingers tight through her love’s hair, bringing her back to the place where Luci wants her, shivering and moaning softly as a wicked tongue darts out. She’ll be teasing all night at this rate. Eventually Lucienne’s legs will give out and then maybe her lover will be satiated. “You’ll always be mine.”

#batteredoptimist #➤ 𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙲𝙸𝙰𝙽 ┊ lucienne agosti. #♡ 𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙰 & 𝙻𝚄𝙲𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙽𝙴 ⤷ l’amour est un oiseau rebelle que nul ne peut apprivoiser. #⋆ ⚓︎ ⋆ ── 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ┊ 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑢𝑝 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔? #sexual content cw #toxic relationship cw #idk that i'd necessarily but just in case #gun cw

[flownintothesun]

     𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐊'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 — and startlingly more intimate, which doesn’t make a ton of sense, all things considered. She was meant to worship him — but in the end she’d only resented him. And now, here she is, cleaning someone else’s wounds, and trying to draw her eyes away from feminine curves and swells that are making her heart hammer like a war drum as she eases salve along the gash. Not quite deep enough for stitches — though she’s done that, too. Once you’ve seen enough and done enough, it doesn’t really faze you anymore — thus the staring (or is it admiring?) coming as more of a surprise than the wound itself. At least she has an excuse. Kinda has to stare to dress a wound.

     Her voice is still thick with Russian when she speaks,  “Thanks for not asking how a dancer knows how to dress a wound or where the best spots to hide are. Hold still,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips, “I’m almost done. Do you have somewhere safe to stay?” Her apartment is a hole in the wall that most people would run away from. But it’s hers, and that means something. “Until they’ve gone away, I mean.”

@lovepurposed said: ❛   patch .   help my muse patch up a wound . (marin for iris)

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    /    ACCEPTING ↷

❝ Hey... I just wanted to say,  thanks.  For, you know. ❞    She gestures with a hand.

Iris has her shirt off, nervous fingers combing through hair that’s been swept to the front to give the girl access to the gash that’s still slowly bleeding. There will be a scar, from her nape to her shoulder blade. It’s not a spot she could’ve reached on her own to even properly disinfect, let alone dress. It feels weird, having a stranger’s finger on her like this, on a literal open wound; Iris holds the shirt she’s had to take off on her lap and against her chest, with one arm. While it isn’t that kind of a situation, she’s not been topless in front of anyone in... years, now? Maybe a year or two. None of this feels good; all of this feels dangerously vulnerable. The wound itself she’s barely flinching at.    ❝ As well as for... not calling the cops. Thanks for that as well. ❞

#smokedanced #➤ 𝚇𝚅𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁 ┊ marin gunderson. #➤ 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 ┊ iris & marin ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟏.) #abuse mention cw

[flownintothesun]

     𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 — and though there is no shortage of wine to be had, none is needed to cast a pretty red glow across her features. She almost doesn’t recognize herself — skin kissed by sunlight that doesn’t reach her in the ocean, freckles lightly dusted across her nose and cheeks, and...she’s smiling. She’s found that it seems to happen rather a lot lately, and only fades when she remembers who and what she is, and what she is here to do. She’s thought that maybe if she could fool him, and fool herself, that maybe she could fool the sea witch, too. Maybe she wouldn’t recognize her either. But if anything is inescapable, she knows that it’s magic. This is all temporary.

      How long will it take Ursula to realize that she’s stalling in looking for the stolen pearl? It is rather small, after all. It could take half a lifetime to find in a place this massive, even if she were properly looking. She keeps fooling herself into believing there is time, though enough of it has passed where her knees no longer wobble when she curtsies, and she’s learned how to live like her human mother once had. She’s even learned to wear a ballgown that matches her eyes — not quite blue and not quite green — the color of weathered pieces of broken bottles washed up to the sea like gemstones.

     Small bumps the size of pinpricks race up her arms and she shivers at his voice so close and intimate. She wasn’t meant to draw attention, and yet somehow, she seems to all the same, no enchantment or song necessary. It’s dangerous. He is dangerous. And she...she is dangerous too, lest she forget. “I hope that I’m a pleasant surprise, then.” Playfully stepping away (just barely) she gives him a twirl, and the dress swishes and whooshes around her. “It is a ball in your honor, yes? You should get a say in who gets to be here. Do you want me here, your highness?” her eyes sparkle at him, teasing and unafraid.

@lovepurposed  sent  ;  ∗ 15﹕ sender  and  receiver  make  eye  contact  across  a  busy  room . (from westley or marin)

        it  was  instant.  the  moment  pale  blue  eyes  locked  with  hers  a  gentle  smile  replaced  his  previously  disinterested  expression.  suddenly  he  didn't  mind  being  at  this  insipid  ball  his  mother  insisted  on  him  making  an  appearance  at.  

        he  quickly  made  his  way  through  a  sea  of  guests  thoroughly  enjoying  the  party.  an  atmosphere  he  found  increasingly  difficult  to  pretend  to  enjoy.  though  he  did  put  on  quite  the  act,  chin  tipping  in  acknowledgement  at  the  grins  and  greetings  cast  his  way.  all  pleasantries  and  decorum  despite  how  out  of  place  he  felt  among  the  crowd.  the  sight  of  marin  though,  seemed  to  ease  the  feeling.  

        a  playful  smirk  adorns  eric's  face  as  he  approaches.  playing  the  role  of  the  charismatic  prince,  he  gives  her  a  bow  then  moves  to  stand  beside  her.  eyes  gaze  out  at  the  other  guests  again  momentarily  before  lips  move  close  to  her  ear.  ❛ i  didn't  expect  to  see  you  here. ❜

#sirensought #➤ 𝚇𝚅𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁 ┊ marin gunderson. #➤ 𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 ┊ eric & marin ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟐.) #sea creature cw #i got carried away! #please don't feel obligated to match length

[flownintothesun]

     𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 as small droplets of what aren’t quite rain and aren’t quite snow either fall on her hair and eyelashes. She knows what it is to be caught somewhere in the middle — not fitting here nor there, but some secret third place that she hasn’t discovered. But the lad sitting next to her seems so sure of himself — both in the way he carries himself, and the way he speaks. Hands in his pockets because he knows that he’ll get cold otherwise, speaking of not believing in magic as though the existence of something is dependent on one’s personal beliefs and not the state of its own being. If he really doesn’t believe in magic, he’ll likely never see anything like this show or place again. All circuses tickle the imagination — but most of their magic is lost on adults, and those who have seen any of life’s many unkindnesses.

       Luther isn’t the only one in London, nor in the world, who collects magical things — artifacts or creatures. He is, however, the only one whom Marin’s met that is brave enough to put them on display and for show, to make ordinary people question the extraordinary. It probably helps that her — Luther — has armed guards. Since she’s usually under his supervision, they seem to have forgotten that he’s away and that she needs ‘tending to’. “It was my boss’s dream to make people question things. Adventurer or no, you’d be very brave if you thought you were really talking to a siren,” she teases. “Haven’t you heard that we like to steal souls when we sing?”

       At most, her singing so far has been the equivalent of a drunken night for the people it’s fixed on. A little happier, a little looser lipped, a little wobbly. Luther keeps her in a collar, which she’s wearing now. Can’t have her testing her limits or anything — that would be bad for business. At least it looks like a very expensive necklace and not what it is — a method of control that takes away those powers. She sings at his command only, and never because there is something worth singing about.

It's cold tonight and Elio is one of those people who get cold easily so his hands are buried deep into his pockets to keep them warm. People must think he's insane to be even thinking of finding a spot to sit outside. He doesn't feel like going home yet after the incredible show he had just witnessed and on top of that you can see the stars for once here in London in this particular spot. They are shining bright tonight and as he stares up at them while walking he can't help but admire their beauty. It's extraordinary that they can see them even if they in reality had already died out by the time they could witness them.

"Oh hello there." Elio greets her a little surprised to see that she's not wearing a coat or anything despite the weather, it was almost as if she were immune to it. "I wouldn't exactly call myself an adventurer but I wanted to take a while to look at the stars…" He says while settling down next to her after she made room for him. "I loved the show tonight you were incredible. I've never seen anything like it." Now that he's sitting next to her he can look at her from up close. She looks incredibly beautiful with her glittery makeup still on and he quickly looks away before he gets caught staring at her. "I mean I'm not someone who believes in magic but this entire show kind of made me doubt my own beliefs." It was undoubtedly a lot of work to put on a show like that. Not only for every person to learn their part but to add in all the special effects. Lord knows how they did it but in truth, he didn't want to know. Once he knew it would break the spell and make the show a lot less interesting.

#wehavefoundthestars #➤ 𝚇𝚅𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁 ┊ marin gunderson. #➤ 𝚠𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 ┊ elio & marin ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟏.) #captivity cw #supernatural cw

[flownintothesun]

     𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 — it’s just that Westley’s the exception; and while it seems a bit cliche, it’s also true. Westley has no memories of attending school, or of parents or games that children might play. Surely he didn’t really come from nowhere at all — but that’s what he has to go on. The sea is the only home he knows — the only constant in what will surely be a strange and long life. That is, unless he outlasts the sea as well. 

     That would be funny — a sand-pirate. There’s something achingly lonely about that thought. Eventually, all of the sand would turn gold and it’d be hard to see the treasure for it. It would probably be lost forever. But Westley has forever...and that’s a lot of pressure on what kind of legacies he leaves. Not that he can confess that to Elio. Now desperate to change the subject, he turns and leans back over the railing, letting the wind blow through his sea-kissed curls, “Alright then, tell me a story about your time on the Arcady. Better be a good one, too.”

His words had caused the captain his smile to vanish, instead, he was looking sad now. Elio can not recall having ever seen him sad before. What was it that he had said wrong? The only thing he had been trying to do was to change his outlook on life so it wasn't as bleak but without meaning he made things worse. His hands are itching to reach out and touch him, to give some kind of comfort but he doesn't do that. Instead, he stays where he is, leaning against the railing of the Arcady, looking at the captain who's now lifting up his head towards the endless sky.

"Perfect is indeed an impossible goal to have." He muses out loud, "As for the adventure part you make it sound like it's a bad thing. Yes, we will all leave this ship eventually but stories never die. They keep being passed on from generation to generation. They might change and lose some of their truth over the years but the essence of it stays the same." His own family had tales of their own they kept retelling to one another, so often he could tell most of them from memory if he wanted to. "I just… I mean moments are fleeting but the memories of those moments last until the day you die."

#wehavefoundthestars #➤ 𝟶. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙾𝙾𝙻 ┊ westley mccarthy. #➤ 𝚠𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 ┊ elio & westley ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟓.) #♡ 𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙾 & 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚈 ⤷ and don’t you wish you hadn’t learned the hard way why they name storms after people?

[flownintothesun]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — and happy spring! I hope that you're all doing well and that the Universe is sending you all of the lovely and kind things. I'm sure you've all noticed by now, but my hiatus has stretched a little longer than I've intended it to. I'm running out of things in my queue (March 26) and I haven't written in awhile. This is just to say that I appreciate your love and support, and I am excited to write with you all, things have just been a chaos for the last few months, and I'm still looking for a place to move / live. So, if I'm slow at responding in or out of character, following, etc., it's because I've been away and super busy. There's no ill intent, and I'm wishing you all well. I do intend to come back and I would like for it to be soonish. I'm trying to get through the things that immediately need taken care of as quickly as I can and then, fingers crossed. Sending lots of love in the meantime, thank you for hanging in there.

#⋆ ⚓︎ ⋆ ── 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 ┊ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒.

[flownintothesun]

      𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐊 seem so far away that they’re utterly unreachable. Westley might extend his hand toward the stars only to find that they are as distant as the person he had been only hours ago. How brave, these little dots of light in the night sky — to still try to shine in the vast and empty darkness. Is there any light left in Westley’s soul? Was there any to begin with? He extends his hands in front of his own eyes — looking at them, webbed for ease of swimming. The white shirt that he’d been wearing is pink and red now with his own blood — maybe the blood of others, too. He closes his eyes. This time, he knows that it won’t go away — this vision of otherness and of death.

       Brows furrow as eyes shift — and Westley’s trying desperately to find something to hold onto now. Something in this world that makes sense. His heart hammers with his every breath until it feels as though he’s swallowing it down just to stop it from leaving this cursed body. Adrenaline rushes through him — hot and angry and capable of anything. What was he before he was this? The ship creaks. The storm is growing heavier over top. Any other ship would have met her end. Not the Arcady. Not with her captain aboard. What a terrible thing, to live forever...

      Eyes open, and they’re dark now, the color of the blood that stains the deck, and Westley’s clothes — the color trickling from neck and nose and lip and stomach as though any of it matters. He wants to be alone. He wants to be alone where no one can see him or hurt him — where he can’t hurt anyone else. Where he can be whatever it is that he is in peace. If the Arcady is keeping herself upright for him now, then the truth is that he needs no crew to pursue his answers. Only the necklace that had made him stupid enough to bring Elio aboard.

      Or, maybe that was something else. “Perhaps you should have warned them instead.” It’s a shame they hadn’t made it back to Italy — where Elio wouldn’t have been involved. What to do with him now? “You always wanted to see good where there wasn’t any,” he rasps, gills closing like the wounds, leaving him more human than not in appearance, “They say that hope dies last, Elio — but still, it dies. What good is there now? I can’t take you back to Italy.”  Probably, there are things worse than death. He has the feeling he’s experienced them once before already.

How is he staying so calm? He doesn't know. Perhaps he's in some kind of shock. That could explain it, right? Why he's no longer trying to get away from someone whom he thought he had known at least up until a certain level and who had turned out to be someone… Or rather something else, something not entirely human. This wasn't just love blinding him his mind was simply starting to shut down because he couldn't comprehend any of this. Not at once at least.

The Captain is mumbling something which makes no sense to him. Not that it even crosses his mind to question it because his mouth falls ajar when he notices the way McCarthy's body has shapeshifted into something that could only be described as fish-like. Gills. How could he have those all of a sudden? How could he have those and even breathe above water? Perhaps it was a good thing he was still chained up because he was feeling lightheaded at least this way he couldn't fall when he fainted. It was not that the sight itself revolted him it was just the mere fact that all of this was actually happening right in front of him. As if he were part of some kind of horror story.

The wound that should have killed him is slowly healing right in front of his eyes. If Elio hadn't been able to feel the ice-cold water streaming down from the deck he would have thought he had been dreaming.

"What? No!" He exclaims instantly, head shaking, "They trapped me here because I wanted to come and warn you about them! I didn't even know that they were planning on doing any of this until minutes before all of this happened. I'm not… I would never do such a thing to ANYONE."

The mere fact that he was asking this once again made Elio doubt he would make it out of this entire ordeal alive. Whatever it was that the Captain had turned into, or perhaps had always been, had changed him. The man he had learned to know would have never asked him that question. Violence was not in his nature. Not ever.

#wehavefoundthestars #➤ 𝚠𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 ┊ elio & westley ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟗.) #➤ 𝟶. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙾𝙾𝙻 ┊ westley mccarthy. #♡ 𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙾 & 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚈 ⤷ and don’t you wish you hadn’t learned the hard way why they name storms after people? #blood cw #sea creature cw #thalassophobia cw #murder cw

[flownintothesun]

     𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌, that is true. She would have the best chance of getting in and out of enemy territory unseen and unscathed, their little mouse. It’s strange how for all of these months, Enjolras has spoken from the deepest recesses of his heart about sacrifice and the greater good — and yet, when the fated hour is upon them, the color red seems so much darker than it is, so much more permanent. The difference between an imagined world and a reality is action — he knows this, and yet he hesitates, and each moment he wastes stacks the odds against them even further. The truth is that the infiltrator had made off with too many goods. Guns, and food — rations, bullets. Without those things, they won’t last should worse come to worst.

       “She can do this,” a hand claps on his shoulder in reassurance. “She won’t be noticed, no one will suspect her. It’s the best plan that we have.”

       “But will they care that she’s only an innocent girl? Or do they thirst so much for blood that such a thing won’t matter at all?” Moreover, is it a chance that he’s willing to take? All of his cards are on the table now — all bearing the faces of his friends — those he loves.

        “Can you do this?” he asks, looking down at her, fixed, determined to see this through, “You should be seen by no one. And if they were to catch you — you must feign ignorance until I can...” he’s near to telling her until he can come for her — but likely, it won’t be...he won’t be... “Until whatever end.”

{ Julien Enjolras } says : " Listen , you're making terrible decisions right now because you're not thinking clearly ! "

Is there a way to make well informed decisions whilst in the middle of such chaos ? Even those carefully chosen and critical choices can come down to biases when skewed by the fact that a revolution is raging outside their door . Right and wrong become the only thing that matter , the only thing that should be held in any regard ; not just the highest . Things are changing , and have to do so before anything can get better . Though Valerie is not someone to pick sides in such a situation , or any of them , she finds the company she has been keeping have rubbed off a bit on her , and she is being swept away in the same manner of which they are , their passion for the cause kindling inside her as well , even if it didn’t make itself as noticeable .

“ W — What else am I s — supp — supposed to do ? “ Her voice is not one from a person who is enraged , or indignant , or stubborn ; it is quiet , questioning , and genuinely seeking counsel from someone she knows will be able to lead her in the right direction . “ I h — have to help s — some — somehow , and . . . if this is the o — only w — way . . . “ But is it ? Or is it the only one she has discovered thus far ? Either way , the day of reckoning is upon all of them , and if she does not have a role to assume for the greater good , then which side is she really fighting for ? / / & & @lovepurposed

#dcmur3 #➤ 𝚇𝙸. 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙴 ┊ julien enjolras. #➤ 𝚍𝚌𝚖𝚞𝚛𝟹 ┊ valerie & enjolras ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟐.) #war cw #politics cw #gun cw

[flownintothesun]

     𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌, Francis is neither naive nor weak. She would let him do anything to her — she would have no power to stop him if he chose to harm her in any way. Such is the power he wields due to his name, and that she has lost, due to having her voice taken from her. Only the cruelest soul could come up with such a punishment — and it’s after staring at her, studying her for several moments that he lets his hand fall. Avoxes have no names. They are not meant to be people — as though personhood is something that can be stripped away. She still has her soul, even if she has no name. “I imagine they must be terribly lonely — your circumstances,” he says softly. “I get lonely too, sometimes. Before you were brought here, did you know how to read and write?”

{ francis devereaux } sent : [LIFT]: sender gently cups the receiver's face and lifts their chin so the receiver is looking up at them .

a quick gasp of air is taken into her lungs , combined with the sound of a small and more than not terrified squeak . her kind was rarely if ever acknowledged by someone of his status here in the capitol, and now for him to go so far as to touch her ? clenching her eyes shut , her muscles grow taut as she stands before him , allowing him to appraise her if he so wishes , or whatever it is he had wanted to do . of course , she does not move away or try to avoid aforementioned contact , she merely stays put , eventually opening her large hues to peer up at him with a questioning gaze , wondering as to his next step . the feeling of his hands meeting her skin was much softer than she would have thought , due to the authority he wielded, she did not know he had the chance to be so gentle , and with her of all people . / / & & @lovepurposed

#dcmur3 #➤ 𝚅𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂 ┊ francis devereaux. #➤ 𝚍𝚌𝚖𝚞𝚛𝟹 ┊ valerie & francis ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟐.) #body horror cw #power imbalance cw

[flownintothesun]

     𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃 beyond what Francis has ever learned in a classroom. If one were to call anyone or anything divine here — it would be his grandfather, who sits on his pedestal — untouchable and worshiped like a god. Francis may never know what the Dark Days were truly like — there is little left beyond relics he should not have access to. He isn’t about to give that particular secret up. The god that is Coriolanus Snow has fancied himself teacher a time or two — a relic of the glory days where he once served as mentor — another thing that no one speaks about. The Capitol is rife with secrets, and if you know the questions to ask, they’re easily loosed.

        His grandfather has taught him to never betray a deep emotion. Cautious amusement is fine, condescension even. As ever, Snow lands on top. Be what they expect him to be, and no more. His grandfather has no idea just how long he’s been using that advice as a shield against the man himself. Even now, Francis’s lips form a thin line — it could be a smile, it could be a frown — neither, or both. He relishes in the chance to sharpen his wit. 

      “I don’t believe that human worth or significance is defined by birth. Before the war, there was a game that men would play with a gun. They would load the chamber with one bullet and leave the rest empty, and spin it around. The circumstances of one’s birth are no more than that, Mr.Cromwell — the luck of the draw. Of course, that means very little, I suppose, to the one who gets shot.”

       He’s silent for a moment or two, fighting not to fidget even a little bit — “I am young, and I did not live through the war. I am loathe to understand why one would believe fighting in a war, or participating in the games to be a matter of worth or opportunity. Is there truly honor in death, or is it just a waste of potential?”

Oh, what a life he'd have if he'd been born a Snow! The ground would not be so treacherous underneath his feet. He would not have to fight for every shred of respect, and not turn the cheek at every insult. But one day, that will be different. One day, his peers will call him equal, no — they will know him as superior. But for now, he takes every trivial, tedious task in stride that is passed onto him. Better men are working at their real jobs while he is a glorified tour guide. But don't they see? There could be an opportunity here, too. The young man is not president, no, but for Thomas, the proximity is close enough. Footsteps continue on, stopped every so paces, silent off-hand gesture at some thing or another as the other gathers his thoughts. Words misunderstood, or perhaps, could they have ever been heard by another such as him in the way they were meant to? How could Francis understand? He chuckles, low, supposing he should correct the other before it should come about that anyone should think Thomas Cromwell has said that he was divinely chosen to win! "No, quite the contrary. There is nothing divine about it." He would spit upon anyone who would say that he had some higher power to thank for his victory. "Out there, in the arena, we are all equal. Destiny is firmly in one's hands, if they have the skills to seize it. And if we do, we may be afforded the chance to come here, to the Capitol, and be among its esteemed citizens." An impossibility otherwise. "Or do you think so lowly of us that we are not worthy of that opportunity?"

#threecardtrick #➤ 𝚅𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂 ┊ francis devereaux. #➤ 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔 ┊ thomas & francis ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟏.) #war cw #death mention cw #gun mention cw

[flownintothesun]

     𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 that souls are not bargained for all at once. Not by a mythological creature with red horns, nor by the other kinds of devils that lurk about the world. The real ones, that is. No. Souls are not lost in one fell swoop; but rather, they are whittled away over time — a little here, a little there — never enough to notice much of a difference or anything missing, not until it’s too late. Once, he’d spent his evening reading about a lad called Dorian Gray and the distorted creature that his heinous and self-righteous acts had birthed into the mirror, all while the man himself remained impossibly beautiful. But, once you have a taste of power that comes easy — you want more. The story had haunted him for weeks after, and he’d waited for his grandfather to pass a mirror even once, so that Francis might prove what was in Coriolanus Snow’s soul.

      This is why he is cautious — why he tries to shy away from the arrogance that may as well have been a birthright. As he puts together the pieces — Francis learns more and more that Coriolanus Snow was not always the man he is now. It is a tightrope act to someone with too much weight on their shoulders. In the end, his grandfather had chosen the easier path — the more fearful path. Once, there was a girl in a rainbow dress — and he’d made the Capitol fall in love with her. The problem had been that he, the President himself, had loved her most. There is nothing more dangerous than to love wholly, for it comes with things such as trust, and hope.

        If Francis retained any piece of his grandfather — he hopes it is in those things that he so easily discarded all of those years ago. Hard work and kindness and hope and the ability to find beauty and love in unlikely places — wouldn’t those make for a better world? A world where music is not banned because of a songbird whose wings he clipped so very many years ago?

      Francis plasters a smile on his face prior to gathering his things. "Shall we?" He doesn’t speak again until they’re out of earshot of anything that could be listening, “What do they have that you do not, Miss Monet? Save for the luxury of being born in the right place at the right time? I find that sameness isn’t an ideal quality, unless you seek a herd of sheep. I am no shepherd,” he teases with a bright smile, offering her his arm. The less tense they look, the better this is going to go. Still, he’s likely damning them both. Is he truly unlike his grandfather if he needs someone to hold his hand on the way to whatever hell truly exists in the world? Sometimes he wonders.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐒 & 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 @lovepurposed

His question dragged a genuine burst of laughter out of Fish. It was a rare sound, one that seemed almost alien to her now. Stripped of all the pomps of her usual persona, her chuckle was like a breath of fresh air.

"I'm sure you're a very popular bachelor, Francis," she chirped, "but surely you know, I'm hardly a threat to the single ladies of the Capitol."

Why would the Capitol people be jealous of her? She was not a person in their eyes. She was a mermaid. A creature of fiction. A chimera made of all the ideas and images they saw in her. Fish was an object of desire but she was never an equal in their eyes.

A pretty doll in a glass cage.

And even the President's attention did not make other people jealous of her. Oh, there were rumors that made her shiver. Why else would he protect her from the hands of others, people said. Fish Monet is a kept woman.

A mistress.

But that was not jealousy! It was amusement. She was nothing but that. A distraction. Entertainment. Fish had accepted it by now. The truth had never mattered, why would it matter now? Did Francis know about the rumors? Did he believe them?

There would be rumors about Francis and her, perhaps. Perhaps they would say that she couldn't get enough of the Snow men. But they would all laugh at the idea. Juicy gossip to feast on. Because they all knew that she'd never be Capitol. Not one of them. No longer a District girl either.

And right on cue, Francis Snow invited her. Had he read her thoughts? Did he want to feed the beast that thrived on rumors? Fish should say no, she knew it.

"Tea sounds lovely," she replied instead, smiling.

#imprvdente #➤ 𝚅𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂 ┊ francis devereaux. #➤ 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚟𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎 ┊ fish & francis ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟐.) #♡ 𝙵𝙸𝚂𝙷 & 𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙸𝚂 ⤷ i love you as icarus loved the sun ; too close — too much. #corruption cw

[flownintothesun]

     𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 at Mariano’s surface — a raging river runs just beneath. His blood boils hot when it boils, and beneath the cool collect is a churning vortex of uncertainty and feelings that he doesn’t know what to do with or where to put. The truth is that he doesn’t have all of the answers. He’s making it up as he goes, same as the next person. While his skill-set might prepare him to survive in the life he’s been given — he has no conventional education to speak of. Mariano studies people, but he can’t account for every minute detail. More specifically — what would he know of the concept of unmaking?

       “I wouldn’t want to find out,” he settles, gulping back more of the drink, letting it scorch its way down his throat. “That’s too much power to put into someone else’s hands willingly.” God, he wants a cigarette. There are different kinds of unmaking — there is the more permanent which is death, and there is also change based on circumstance, and love. Either are dangerous, if in a different way. “Most people spend their lives grasping for power, only to abuse it once it’s in their hands — even those who mean to do good by it can be corrupted.”

      Chocolate brown eyes flick up to the people he’s surrounded himself with. Existential debates with pretty women aren’t really on his bingo card for tonight. He needs to stop drinking soon — there’s an investor to see in the morning. “Though, I’m curious,” he continues regardless, the words curling thick with his accent, “Did you mean to be unmade as in to die, or unmade as though to change for the better at someone else’s hands?”

       No one can fix another person. It’s like swimming up-current. You either accept people as they are, or you don’t — if you’re given a choice at all. People only change if they want to change — and so rarely does it ever happen. His boss will always be a sadistic bastard. His Mama will always have her emotional needs fulfilled by him. His Papa will never go to therapy or stop being a prick. “If it’s the later, I think you’ll find that people who believe that people can change, that people can be unmade, are usually the ones stuck in bad marriages, or swearing it’s the last time the person they love will hurt them. It’s innocent to the point of idealism and naivety.”

Katherine fingered the outer ridge of her glass, violet gaze measuring the man before her with a casual curiosity that only grew with his expanding explanation. There was an edge to him that reminded her of someone she once knew. More often than not when you looked into someone's eyes you could see a certain need to be seen, understood, or even accepted. There was a detachment in his eyes that echoed the very same same disconnect she found in the people her father brought around and in the very man himself. It echoed danger. The only problem with that assessment was the very fact that she could see the very same void in people who were merely victims of people like her father. People who had the misfortune of being pressed against the unforgiving weight of the world, pulled into the void by the rush of the sinister undertow. Those who resurfaced all had that same look. That look that echoed the void themed been forced to engage in one way or another. So what was he? Danger or simply one who survived it? "You're wrong on one point. If Kass broke his arm I would absolutely suffer. The wining grouping and moaning would be unending. . .He'd probably have me on speed dial for every little thing he couldnt do on his own." She chuckled softly to herself, offering her company a playful smile over the edge of her glass before taking a long sip. "So If a person can be made by something or someone-- under that logic cant we all also be unmade by someone or something? Id assume it doesn't simply work only one way and not the other."

She herself wasn't all that certain she believed all of what she was saying. The man before her had a curious enough familiarity in him and enough elegance in his articulated thoughts that she was curious enough to know what he would come up with.

@lovepurposed (X)

#velvetnviolentviolets #➤ 𝚇𝚇. 𝙹𝚄𝙳𝙶𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 ┊ mariano verratti. #➤ 𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚜 ┊ kat & mariano ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟏.) #alcohol cw #abuse mention cw

[flownintothesun]

     𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐘. He’d chosen ‘Henry Gale’ as an alias, convenient though the real Henry Gale's tragic death had been. It wasn’t Uncle Henry, the scarecrow who had stumbled across Oz in a hot air balloon, but he can’t very well go calling himself ‘The Wizard’. Besides, let them think of him as the one with no brains. Watch them underestimate him. That'll be fun. Anyway, he’s almost positive that none of these people are the reading type. There’s a surgeon, a thief, a hunter, a torturer (much to his own dismay)...but he doesn’t know what to make of this one.

  “You know,” he offers as he’s brought food and water, “I can’t help but wonder why it is that you’re not the leader.” He raises his hands, “No, I know, I haven’t been with you from the beginning. But I can’t help but notice that there’s a lot of tension, between Jack and....oh, shoot, I’ve forgotten his name again. Sam? Sal? No, Sawyer. That’s the one.”

  He shakes his head with a smile. They believe him, he’s got them all fooled. “But you. You seem to have your head on straight. Just an observation.”

#➤ 𝙸𝚅. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙾𝚁 ┊ benjamin linus. #⋆ ⚓︎ ⋆ ── 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ┊ 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑡.