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socialwriter · 4 years

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Ch. 5- To Love and Be Loved

Listen alongside: This and this

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

1.9k+ words

TW: Insinuations of sex, insinuations of parental death, mentions of poverty, prostitution, cursing maybe, sad boi Pope

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A/n: PLEASE READ THIS POST

He presses his lips against yours once more, and as his hands slowly inch up your leg and move to pull down your fishnets, you find yourself imagining that it's JJ’s hands on your body. Even laying here with Rafe, doing what had to be done, you couldn’t seem to get the blond Bohemian out of your mind.

JJ was going out of his mind. How had he just left you alone, in the hands of another man? Someone with power and money, who certainly would do whatever he wanted, regardless of your feelings. It took every fiber of his being to not deck the guy whenever he pulled you closer or laid a finger on you, and you had practically shoved him out of your dressing room. He slowly walked back to where he knew John B and Pope would be, irrationally feeling like the farther away he was from the Moulin Rouge, the less helpful he would be to you. But deep down, he knew that he had failed you.

When JJ got back to the shabby little apartment that John B and Pope had told him he could crash at with them, he was surprised to only find the latter there. “Where’s John B?” JJ questioned, causing Pope to look up at him and shrug. “Probably snagged one of the girls, he’ll find his way back here eventually. Always does.”

JJ nodded, plopping down on the ratty old sofa with a huff. Pope, despite not knowing JJ for very long, could immediately sense that something was wrong with his new friend, and he had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with Y/n. “Something the matter?”

JJ's head hung low, but he managed a nod. “How am I so in love with a girl that I’ve just met?”

Pope let out a deep sigh, knowing unfortunately where JJ was coming from. “Y/n on your mind my friend?”

“Yup.”

“Well, she tends to have that effect on people. She pulls you in, so that you are fully enamored with everything about her. It's futile to deny your feelings.” Pope mused, gazing off at seemingly nothing. This caught JJ’s attention, causing him to send a quizzical look to the black haired man sitting next to him. “What do you mean? Why are you saying all this?”

“Because I was young and in love once too. With the very same girl.”

---

A young 10 year old boy by the name of Pope walked the streets of Paris, grocery bags in hand that he had fetched for his parents on the way home from school. He had always been told by his parents to look where he was going, that you never knew who you would come across, which is why he was so shocked when someone slammed into him. Out of surprise, he dropped the grocery bags, the contents spilling out all over the street. “Ah come on man wa-”

He’s stopped mid sentence, however, when he sees exactly who has run into him. It's a girl, who couldn’t be any older than he was, all skin and bones, and dirt all over her face and hands. She was also the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. She was currently muttering apology after apology, quickly stuffing all the foods he had dropped back into the bag. Eventually, Pope snaps out of his stupor, crouching next to her on the ground and placing a hand on her arm, which halts her movements. “Hey, it's ok, honest. What's your name?”

“Y/n.” You mumble, barely able to look the boy in the eye. You were trying to steal from him after all, and being stopped by him was not part of the plan. “Well I’m Pope, and I’ll let this one slide just this once, as long as you look where you’re going from now on and don’t run into any other poor suckers.”

You let out a nervous laugh, standing now that all the food was off the ground, and trying to get out of there as quickly as possible. “Well, uh, sorry Pope.” You state, starting to walk off before Pope calls your name. You internally curse before turning back to him, plastering a grin on your face. “Yes?”

“Did you take my loaf of bread?”

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach as your face heats up, realizing that you’d been caught trying to take your supper from this boy. “I, uhm, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And before Pope can question you any further, you run off, disappearing amongst the hustle and bustle of the city. Pope isn’t angry about the loaf of bread, by the looks of you you needed it more than he did anyways, but he’s determined to find you again.

And find you again he did. After asking around for a y/n, giving vague descriptions of you to some of the adults he knew, he eventually found his way to your house. If you could call it that. It was small, far past its glory days, and some parts seemed to be falling apart. Nevertheless, he knocked on the door, hoping that it would be you that answered. And it was you that answered. Unfortunately, as soon as you saw his face, you immediately went to close the door, Pope putting his foot in the doorway to stop you. He would probably bruise his foot from the impact, but he didn’t care. He wanted to talk to you. “You know you left in such a hurry that you didn’t say goodbye to me.”

You timidly glance up at him, unsure why he was being so kind to you. Why he’d been kind to you at all when you’d stolen from him. “I was in a hurry.” You manage to sputter out, which earns a laugh from Pope. A smile slowly starts to grow on your lips as you start to warm up to the boy in front of you more and more. “Anyways I got you this. You know, a healthy diet consists of more than just bread.” From behind his back, Pope brings out a basket full of fruits, meats, veggies, and more. The sight is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You were only ten, but never had someone cared so much for you as Pope had.

From that day forward, the two of you spent time with each other almost every day. And every day that the two of you spent together, Pope fell in love with you more and more. He may have been young, but he knew that the flutter in his chest that he felt every time he said your name was love. Yet, something stopped him from telling you. He couldn’t bring himself to profess his feelings, to find out if you felt the same, until it was too late. With your parents gone and Topper Thornton of the Moulin Rouge taking you under his wing, you never came around anymore. The friendship that had grown over the few years the two of you had known each other had seemingly vanished, and now to Pope you were only the one that got away.

---

“Wow, I mean, that sounds really tough buddy, but what were you trying to tell me with that story? That she’s gonna get away from me too and I should just accept it? Cuz way to pour salt in the wound man.”

Pope shook his head at JJ’s words, grabbing him by the shoulders firmly and looking him dead in the eye. “No, I want your love story to have a different ending than mine. Learn from my mistakes. Don’t be too afraid to go after the girl you love, to admit your feelings for her, or you’ll regret it. Go get her.” JJ nodded, and without another word, he was walking out of the apartment, heading back to the Moulin Rouge.

---

You’re still covered in a sheen of sweat from your time with Rafe, him having just left, when you hear a knock at your door. Utterly exhausted, you angrily head towards the door, having half a mind to chew Topper out for bothering you once more before you open the door and see JJ standing before you. “I had to come see you again.”

“Listen JJ, I’m really not in the mood for you to rag on me about all of this. I need his money, and my feelings for you don’t matter to anyone else but you.” You explain, dabbing your face with a handkerchief before you begin the process of taking off your makeup for the evening.

“So you admit you have feelings for me at least?”

“Do you think you’re slick? That you persisting will make me cave in and fall into your arms?”

JJ looks down at the ground, shrugging his shoulders. “Well I mean yeah, that was kind of the plan if I’m being honest.”

“Don’t you see that this isn’t a fairy tale? We aren’t getting our happy ending JJ, I hate to break it to you.”

JJ rolls his eyes, fed up with you trying to deny what was clearly there. “The only reason we can’t be happy is because you won’t let us Y/n! I’m falling in love with you, and I know that you are two, so stop trying to deny your feelings and let me love you.”

You’re angry at his words and throw the brush you were holding to the side, ignoring how it loudly clattered. “Love hurts JJ! Everyone that I’ve ever loved has left me, and now I’m just a body for this place. You don’t want me, you want the pretty, mysterious performer that you saw tonight.”

“You don’t know me, I don’t care about who you are out there. The performance that you put on. I care about the real you. The person you are when it's just you and me. I like that girl, a lot, and I want to be with that girl no matter what.”

You turn your back to him, not wanting JJ to see the tears that threatened to spill. “What about Rafe, JJ? What do we do about that? I can’t just let him loose, I need the money. This place needs his money.”

JJ slowly approaches you, placing his gentle but firm hand on your shoulder which causes you to look back at him. Using the pad of his thumb, he wipes away the tears that had managed to fall past your defenses before gently tugging you towards him, resting his hands on your waist. “So you see him while you let yourself love me. I want to be with you, whenever I can. And if that’s in between your meetings with him, so be it. Our love can be our little secret. A little affair.”

“But what if he finds out?” You question, nerves filling you when you realize that you’re actually considering what he’s saying

“He won’t.” JJ assures you. “We’ll be careful, but happy. Because we’ll be together.”

You sigh and shake your head, unable to stop the grin that was slowly forming. “I think I might be falling in love with you JJ Maybank.”

“And I you, Y/n L/n.” With that, you pull the blond into a passionate kiss, both of you hungry for the other's touch.

Tag list: (if theres a slash in your name it wouldn’t let me tag you) @normatural @outr-bnx @ultranikilove @xxbabygurlplzzzxx @chesirecat107 @sarahcxmeron @bricksatanakinswindow @ssjiara @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @the-crackhead-next-door @perfektionsmakel @teamnick @danicarosaline @gracie-jo15 @jjmbanks @meandmymessyminds @keepingupwiththepogues @holypicklelightnickel @lefthandwritings @rudths @jiaraendgame @copper-boom @sunwardsss @starksweasley @trashmouthpogues @allielozoya @thelocalpogue @rae131415 @goldenpogue @scandalousfemale @obx-direction-sos @rafecameron @paradigmax @anonymous0writer @x-lulu @futuretaxcheat @olsenholic @jjaybank @girlsru1eboysdroo1

frenz that i bother: @drew-starkey @downbytheouterbanks @butgilinsky @softstarkey @letsgofullkook @queenk00k @spilledtee @rudysrings @pixelated-pogues @obxmxybxnk @blueeyedbesson @baby-bearie @pit-zuh @ilovejjmaybank @ijustreallylovethem @ad-infinitums

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ofmontys · 6 years

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“ — and if you’re just tuning in now, you’ve made it just in time for our ‘ sleep with me ’ segment. nightfall has sufficiently fueled my ego and i’m reared and ready to go, compiling a playlist curated to get one lucky, hand-picked bastard in bed with me. tonight’s submission comes from camila, age 18 2/3, from two towns over. ” rustling paper. a delighted scoff. “ tonight, as per camila’s request, i’ll be attempting to seduce vincent van gogh. vince, this is acid ghost’s ‘ the artist’s high ’, also known as what i hope i can be for you. ”

or, alternatively : yo yo, my dudes! the name’s linc (19/est/she&her) and you just witnessed an excerpt from bez holmes’s radio show quite appropriately named, ‘ fuckin’ hell ! ’ that airs weekdays and sundays from 7pm to 8am!

i am absolutely stoked out of my mind to write with all of y’all! beneath the read more you’ll find a very unapologetically messy introduction to my strange son, killian beelzebub holmes !

* TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET & CISMALE / / here we’ve got KILLIAN BEELZEBUB HOLMES , the TWENTY-ONE year old LOCAL RADIO HOST. with a reputation for being + SLY, + ANOMALOUS, - OSSIFIED, and - RECKLESS, it’s surprising we haven’t heard more about him. BEZ has been around faulk hollow for TEN YEARS, but they ain’t leaving anytime soon. you hear ME AND MICHAEL by MGMT? that means you’ll see ‘em soon.

“road work ahead? uh, yeah, i sure hope it does!” ( alternatively: bez holmes, a roadmap. )

so bez is… kind of a nutcase. he’s just… he’s that guy in the bar who seems so desirable. voice like warmed honey, a smile that could kill – but dear lord, don’t get close to him. he’s fucked in the head. and unless you’re prepared for that, friendships/relationships with him can get... pretty darn overwhelming.

he’s a host at the local radio station, so he curates the music and talks through little segments throughout the day. well, i should say night -- because the show he’s known for occurs weekdays and sunday nights from 7pm - 8am. weird hours. weird guy. so it all clicks right into place! people tune in for the music ( a lot of indie eclectic vibes ) but also his personality. bez tends to veer off-script a lot, which both aggravates and amuses his superiors. he’s basically the only reason the tiny radio station is still alive & kickin’, so what are they gonna do to him, huh? fire him and take the whole station down with that bullshit move? not likely. so bez’ll keep doing and saying whatever the hell he wants on air, thank you very much.

can he get... a mfing... cinnamon raisin waffle??? dude’s friggin’ obsessed. don’t mess with his waffles, man. waffles don’t play.

has a knack for stumbling into stupid situations. y’know how there’s two kinds of people in this world? the kinds that act upon the universe and the kinds the universe acts upon? bez is that guy in textbook math probelms who has 42 apples for no apparent reason. he’s the dude in on top of spaghetti all covered with cheese whose poor meatball fuckin’ rolled out the door. things happen to bez holmes no matter how much he might try to convince you otherwise. his whole life is just a string of varied ( and usually nonchalant/unbothered/troublingly chill ) reactions to crazy shit.

case in point: why did the holmes family move to faulk hollow? well. their old house had like... a freakin’ meltdown. yes, the house. it swallowed their dog. and their mom. casual... house-y things. but when people ask, bez and his father like to say they just wanted to “ see the sights ”. and apparently faulk hollow was one of those.

[ tw: death, murder mentions ] basically, faulk hollow offered a place for them to disappear, since the disappearance of bez’s mother couldn’t exactly be explained to and/or believed by police. bez’s father is wanted for her murder. so they friggin’ skrrt skrrted out of iowa and plopped down here, under the radar. “holmes” is an adopted last name.

so bez has been here since his 11th birthday! honestly, he probably earned a reputation pretty quick for being that kid who’d, like, “hey buddy!” at all the insects on the playground. “ do you believe in magic? ” was often his best icebreaker.

so... fun fact. he accidentally inherited his dead dentist’s vintage jukebox. yes, i know how that sounds, and it’s exactly that. but dear lord, that thing has just been infinitely fucking with him since the day it showed up on his doorstep three months ago. more about that later!

an example of a normal occurrence in bez’s life: “hey. so, uh… i know we just met, and maybe this is moving fast? but i saw this keychain in walgreens and it made me think of you. so… yeah. here. tell anyone i did anything nice for you and you’re dead to me tho.”

he seems smart. he seems so cunning, you guys. like, holy shit, he makes these deep ass statements on the air and curates music that makes people feel things. but don’t be fooled. he’ll drive wearing shades at 10pm just to look cool, all while bumping 80′s glam rock from his blue ‘67 impala. he’ll do that cliché head bop at stoplights, encourage other drivers to join in.

don’t call him killian!! killian who?? his parents gave him “beelzebub” as a middle name to be funny and fuck with his mother’s father, who was a pastor. what they didn’t bank on was four-year-old bez insisting on being called by it – you can guess how well that went over with his teachers and his peers. so to appease them, he accepted the nickname “bez” and has gone mainly by that ever since. most people probably don’t know his true first name, since he goes by “bez” on the air. but close friends and trusted individuals might occasionally call him “kill” or something to that effect.

pets are not bez’s thing. every houseplant he’s had has died. succulents wilt in his presence too, and he thinks maybe at this point, it’s a running joke among plantkind because his birth name has the worldkill in it. still, even with his track record, he has a fish named nigel. nigel dislikes affection and bez. they engage in staredowns and silent mental warfare. bez often “forgets” to feed nigel or change the water in his tank, but that fish just will not die. nigel’s probably just truckin’ on to spite him.

aggressively writes the wrong date for like… 8 months following new year’s. so he finally gets it right for the final ¼, and then the cycle begins again. additionally, cannot keep the days of the week straight. he’s started a multi-song alarm campaign in an attempt to rectify this situation. bez’ll report his findings in a week. if he remembers.

one time he got pulled over for speeding back from the radio station at 7 in the morning, and you know what he did? he freakin’ offered the cop some hard shit from his flask and some of his opened bag of funions. so the two of them got tastefully buzzed in bez’s car and talked about the kardashians for two hours. and it was through that very conversation that bez learned he’d been doing a very shit job of keeping up with them.

scared of birds. yes. those things? with the wings? terrified. how dare they occupy space above his head. how dare they swoop and swerve all around. no. his neighbor in iowa had a parakeet. maybe that bird finally went missing one day, while they were on vacation. maybe it escaped. to like, the afterlife. maybe bez helped. maybe.

he’s really bad at like … taking care of himself? funions, candy, and takeout forever. what do you mean raisin bran crunch isn’t a wholesome, well-rounded meal? you mean you’re not supposed to pour the entire carafe of syrup on your waffles every time? someone… pls fix that.

hella prone to bullshit! like… did you know aliens are real? yeah. really. hey did you check your horoscope today? what zodiac sign are you? he’ll pretend to know what zodiac he is like: hey, uh… listen .. . if your zodiac is asparagus don’t even bother being my friend… i’m a caprisun & it’s just not gonna work out. sorry.

memorizes commercial jingles. will sing them to prove points.

“what the fuck’s a kanye” - bez holmes, 2k18

“a mug shot? i don’t even drink coffee.” ( alternatively: more pointless headcanons because apparently i think this is necessary. )

don’t be fooled by the title of this section. he drinks coffee. a lot of coffee. with a lot of sugar added to it. could probably kill a horse, tbh. he’s not sorry.

his signature half-smirk drives folks mad. he also has a collection of faithful listeners who like to call in and tell him how soothing his voice is.

lowkey writes his own music? lowkey was in a band called ashes when he was 13; it lasted about 6 seconds. lowkey has a few things recorded on his laptop? but he’ll never actually do anything with ‘em.

owns an unironic walkman! enjoys it immensely! i know!

catch him in the local 24 hour diner spending his life savings on cinnamon raisin waffles and dimes for the jukeboxes! because LMAO, he’s not using the old one at his place!!!

convinced said old, stupid, 1947 jukebox in his apartment lays host to goblins. that thing shakes and quakes at odd hours. it’ll play shitty pop music that isn’t even in the dumb catalogue. sometimes it lights up when he trips over his own feet or accidentally burns his microwave popcorn. the fuckin’ thing is possessed and it’s mocking him. so, naturally, what is there to do but appease the tiny beings inside it?? he makes biweekly sacrifices to it – mainly consisting of snack foods, candies, a casual sprinkling of his own blood. y’know. casual.

super into space? honestly would love to grab sushi with an alien sometime?

uh… he’s convinced everyone he sleeps with kind of mysteriously dies exactly 53 hours after. maybe that was inspired by like... two isolated incidents. but you can see how this is… kind of a problem, for a guy who likes to sleep around from time to time. is he a murderer? uhm, no, not exactly – but he’s grown kind of immune to the guilt at this point. he stalks obituaries a couple days after his one-night-stands, just to check. so far, it hasn’t been a 100% consistent thing, but... he’s worried. he’ll still leave the bar with you tho. ;)

he’s trying out this whole new thing of like… not going all the way? trying to save lives? but it’s really difficult and he’s losing resolve. he also can’t exactly tell his buddies, “ stop introducing me to your hot friends; if i fuck them, they’re dead. ” that probably wouldn’t go over well. he’s got enough crazy on his plate trying to appease the damn goblins.

consistently blindsided by genuinely liking other people? so if he’s into you... he’s gonna look awestruck and baffled like 99% of the time your face is within a 1-mile radius.

he’s always running his hands through his hair, which just adds to his #indiegrungeaesthetic, if i’m honest.

“girl, you’re thicker than a bowl of oatmeal!” (alternatively: wanted plots.)

childhood neighbor / best friend. i would love to have a person ( or several ) who knew him growing up (from age 11 on), and kind of got to bear witness to how strange he’s become? maybe even be weirdos together? i dunno, let’s talk. we

past relationships. i imagine he’s had his fair share of flings in the past. he’s made many mistakes for sure. let’s uncover them.

close friends. #squadgoals. but really, though. i’d love for bez to have a tightknit group of 3-4 people who he just clicks with. they wreak havoc, but it’s all in good fun.

enemies. i would love to have an enemies plot that’s actually hilarious? like one tiny thing catapulted these two into a mutual, deep, to-the-bones kind of hatred. it’s irrational, but they’re so infuriated by one another’s presence that all they can do is think of stupid quips and glare from afar. i imagine their public interactions bring onlookers a lot of poorly stifled laughs, because it’s just like… they’re so obviously trying so hard to hate one another with absolutely zero grounds.

miscellaneous. maybe they got his mail and returned it to his door, and it sparked the beginning of a beautiful friendship. maybe they met in the park when this person’s dog peed on bez’s shoe. maybe they’re a frequent listener to bez’s show and they bonded over that? or perhaps they both enjoy engaging in semi-friendly grocery store competitions to see who can get to the ripest apples the quickest? anything’s possible!

chris! is that a weed?! smoke with him, my dudes!! or like, anything? my guy’s not shy about investing in “life enhancements”.

but yes come message me on here for plots or hmu for my discord! so hype!

#faulk:intro

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wvrners-blog · 6 years

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*snoop dogg vc* greetings, loved ones! let’s take a journey! ; )

alternatively: hello, my name is lea ( 19 | est | she/her ) and this is the one where i introduce you to my little raindrop droptop gumdrop son, WARNER CHOI !

isn’t that ROSS BUTLER ? wait, that’s just WARNER. you can tell it’s him because of the WINTER GREEN TIC TACS & THE SCENT OF MAISON MARGIELA’S ‘JAZZ CLUB’, TOPPED OFF WITH A HONEY-DIPPED SMILE. he is the TWENTY THREE year old in the CHOI family. people say that he tends to be ALLUSIVE but i’ve seen them be PACIFIC. don’t tell anyone but i heard that he is hiding THAT HE HAS BEEN FORGING PRESCRIPTIONS AND SKIMMING MEDS FROM HIS WORKPLACE FOR BOTH HIMSELF AND HIS FAMILY.

alright so just to preface: it is currently 12:15am, i have just returned from the gym, and therefore this intro will be an absolute trash amalgamation of headcanons & word vomit! but without further ado! let’s dive in!

warner is still v much a dude i’m figuring out, but a skeletal version of his BACKSTORY goes a little bit like this:

born & raised in sunray, but only for a short while. shortly after beginning preschool at 3 years old, it became clear to the choi parents that warner simply could not conform to a traditionally paced education system. the boy was far too perceptive for his age, to the point where he often shocked his educators and peers with unwarrantedly accurate analyses. ( for example, upon witnessing his preschool teacher discipline another child for the use of ‘vulgar language,’ three-year-old warner declared the following while holding his peanut butter & fluff sandwich with the crusts cut off: “ don’t think you should take anyone else’s words without asking. that’s an invasion of freedom. ”

so warner spent his actual years of primary education off at a prestigious new york boarding school, cultivating his wits. i imagine this did do some damage to his bond with his siblings/parents, but not from his end. in general, warner is the epitome of warm and inviting. he loves completely, all or nothing, even from afar. but as the years progressed, it became much simpler for him to stay with friends during the holidays rather than fly back across the country for every official recess. so his visits to sunray grew slim, to the point where, by the time he entered high school, he only returned home for a few weeks each summer.

warner had always fostered a passion for science and along with a vivacious curiosity about his surrounding world. it was no shock to his academic mentors when he opted to apply to colleges in pursuit of a biology/pre-med degree. what was surprising was his choice of school -- rather than attend harvard, massachusetts institute of technology, or princeton ( his top three picks, all of which he was accepted to ), warner chose to attend arizona state university. though the choi family didn’t need to save the money, warner felt self-imposed pressure to be closer to his family, to make up for the colossal amount of time he spent away. while attending college, he supplemented his classes and expedited his dual degree by working as an EMT with the ASU emergency medical services. it was through this job that he met chase rutherford, the man who would later become his boyfriend -- and current fiancé.

warner has never been closeted. not really. being away for primary/secondary school and living on-campus at ASU helped him kind of just... exist happily without his parents knowing? but as his visits with the family grew more frequent given his collegiate location in state, it was only natural that eventually his parents put two-and-two together. and while they weren’t exactly unsupportive, there was a certain element of disappointment evident from his father. warner did a pretty adequate job of subduing his response to his father’s reaction, channeling his emotions into furthering himself in the medical field. pushing himself to make his father proud again.

( tw: death, grief ) currently, he works as a pediatric oncological nurse, which might perhaps aid in mending his relationship with his father. if, of course, his father were alive to see it. warner was only promoted to this position about three months ago -- his father died several weeks shy of witnessing his son become anything more than a standard physician’s assistant. knowing this absolutely haunts warner, but he refuses to talk about it. and the same goes for the tragic, sudden nature of his father’s death -- as well as the unsolved nature of the crime.

( tw: drug abuse, addictive behavior ) following his father’s death, the choi family has been in shambles. and with nothing being done to catch the person who stole away their patriarch’s life? it only seems natural that the crew would turn to... external... means of self-medicating. at the first sign of trouble, warner felt compelled to put an end to it, stage an intervention. but he knew what it was like, living in pain, and denying his family the right to feel better. the right not to feel at all. against his better judgment, he began forging painkiller prescriptions for his oncology patients and pocketing them once they were filled. it started as a covert operation for his mother and sister.

the night of his father’s death when a little like this: “you had so much potential. wasted on such a small place in this world. call me when you have something notable to tell.” warner attempted to protest, to offer something more than himself, but he could only utter a stifled, “but -- you don’t understand --” before a loud bang sounded. a series of loud screeches, gasps, clattering as the other end of the line left his father’s hand. and then the line... went dead.

one afternoon, about a week into his medicinal misappropriation, the last words his father said to him on the night of his death wouldn’t relinquish their hold. the usual remedies didn’t work: deep breaths warranted no result. distracting himself with his work proved immaterial. there was no escape. so warner dipped into the bottle of pills he’d intended to hand over to his mother later that night. and he finally understood why she couldn’t possibly go without.

a valium here and there turned into a routine occurrence. a little something to get through work. a small dose to make the estate settlement more bearable. something to subdue the nightmares. everything became a valid reason for some supplementation by negation. maybe if he could shut off his mind, maybe if he could calm his nerves, maybe if he got high enough, it could all just... vanish. but sadly, that’s not how this kind of thing works. but no one’s really been able to tell warner that, since he’s kept this entire ordeal neatly tucked just below the surface. no one but his family knows -- because they’re all on the same derailing train.

some general notes about his PERSONALITY & QUIRKS :

he loves working with kids, and honestly, no better person could be chosen to work one-on-one every day with children diagnosed with terminal illnesses. warner has a certain serenity to his presence; he walks into a room and any remnants of strife vacate the premises. tension clears, like the atmosphere after fresh rain.

dude’s gotta wear scrubs at the hospital, but his personal sense of style consists mostly of fitted shirts, blazers, tailored pants, and wonderful statement shoes. this man knows how to dress.

the great british baking show is his latest inspiration. is he trying to make cupcakes right now? maybe. is he accidentally using baking powder instead of baking soda? uhm. oh. whoops.

honestly how did he survive going to school on the east coast? this dude is... such sunshine? so arizona? sees the best in everyone, refuses to be unkind even to the assholes of this universe. his version of an ill-wish goes a little something like: “y’know, i really hope they freak out about losing their keys only to then find them in their pocket.”

america runs on dunkin’ and warner runs on caffeine !! definitely more of a tea than a coffee fella, but he’ll take whatever he can get before/during/after a crazy shift.

winter green tic tacs have been his favorite thing since the third grade. hey. did you know if you chomp on them really hard in the dark with your mouth open, they’ll flash? no! seriously! you don’t believe me? hold on -- grab the lights. he’s done that to everyone he’s ever met/will continue to meet.

will NOT talk about his own feelings !! he is an expert side-stepper, and he’ll find a way to swerve and avoid being the topic of discussion by spinning the concerns back onto you. call him on it, or don’t. he’ll still try to deflect.

lowkey sings? but only in the shower, in the car, or to people who ask nicely. or get him drunk. either or.

oh my god, he’s a tall & muscular guy -- 6′3 to be exact -- but he is such a lightweight. two glasses of wine have him all giggly and snuggly. one shot of tequila turns him into an epic flirt.

warner spends a lot of his free time doing crosswords, playing sudoku, and reading academic journals. human encyclopedia at your service. need some fun facts for your next group setting? look no further -- warner has an arsenal of extra knowledge at the ready.

um?? so in love with chase??? it’s like. someone will say his name, or so much as mention something remotely related to him, and warner will turn into the mushiest, gushiest little sap. you’re wearing a white t-shirt, huh? that reminds him of the one time chase wore a white t-shirt -- and now he’s grinning and blushing like a fool.

alright it’s late and this got rambly, but yes!! pls plot with me? i promise i’m nice and i can offer you hypothetical cookies!! i probably won’t be on the dash until tomorrow night because i have some plans ( hooray social life?? emphasis on the question marks there ).

so yeah, shoot me an message on here or hit that mfing like and i’ll come to you! i am so heckin hyped to write with all of you! x

#sunrayintro #✧･ﾟ: * | mannerisms !#yo yo it's lea & i am so tired but hey!

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magnoliawhetstone · 4 years

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e, f, j & n

once again, lia cannot shut up. please enjoy these under the cut (no tws)

E: External Personality

1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality?

“Internal personality? Isn’t a personality just...you? Am I supposed to have two different ones?” Lia furrows her brow. “I mean, I think that I am pretty consistent, but I guess sometimes I am a little...well, maybe I’m sometimes sadder inside than out.”

2. do they do things that conform to the norm?

“Oh yeah, unless its obviously not ok to do. I don’t like to stand out, have people look at me. It definitely stems from my childhood.” She shakes her head. “It’s not the time to go into that, though.”

3. do they follow trends or do their own thing?

“Uhm, one time I got bangs because everyone else was doing it?”

4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads?

“No, not at all. I wouldn’t even know what an internet fad was unless someone explicitly told me. I’m so sorry.”

5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own?

“I--I’m pretty intentional in what I do, but not exactly how I act. I think? I mean, I just want people to think I’m nice and kind and caring. Is that a personality? Then yes, intentionally.”

F: Fun

1. what do they do for fun?

“Reading! Or binging Netflix. Or rewatching Pride and Prejudice. Or...” Lia pauses and looks around. “Ok, this is a secret, but sometimes when I can’t sleep, I go up to the roof of the hotel and look out over the city. I usually take a notebook and just...let myself write a few pages. It never makes sense, but there’s usually a theme with it. Early on when I moved here, it was all really..sad. heavy. but lately...well, it’s brighter. Lighter. Hopeful? More...romantic. I mean, in the literature sense, but i guess the other one too? I don’t know, I’m rambling now.”

2. what is their ideal party?

“When I was in high school--well, when I was in high school in South Carolina, we used to have this bonfires on Friday or Saturday nights. It was just the group of friends, Olivia, Derek, Grant, Sarah Beth, Jack, Me and maybe a few others...and it was just, really simple and fun. Sometimes they’d bring alcohol as we got closer to junior year, but it was never about drinking. Just...shooting the breeze, being silly and stupid and just...enjoying each other. I like parties like that--they don’t always have to have a fire, but they’re just a group of my favorite people doing very lowkey things. But if Shania Twain starts playing, I wouldn’t hate it.”

3. who would they have the most fun with?

“Oh, well I have fun with a lot of people--Celeste, Marley, Cassia, Mig, Mark, Shay, Maddox, Jack. I mean, throw all these people in one room and just watch the party start. Except...maybe keep Shay and Jack away from each other. I don’t think Shay likes him very much.”

4. can they have fun while conforming to rules?

“That’s literally the most fun I have, so...” Lia laughed, shaking her head. “Nah, breaking the rules makes me anxious so I try to keep to them as best I can. Sometimes my friends have to coax me to break some, but its usually the straight and narrow for me.”

5. do they go out a lot?

“Eh, a lot is relative. if someone invites me, I will. But it’s not my go to activity.”

J: Joy

1. what makes them happy?

“Puppies, cool grass on bare feet, kisses, the smell of rain, the way my KitchenAid whirrs when its working really hard, laughter, words, the end scene of Pride and Prejudice--or, i guess any scene in Pride and Prejudice (except stupid Mr. Wickham), cuddles, kindness. Oh! The smell of honeysuckles and the way the magnolia trees bloom in front of my house in the spring. And peach cobbler.”

2. who makes them happy?

“Oh, uhm.” Lia pauses, blushing slightly. “You want the first name that comes to mind? Jack.” She chews her lip and laughs quietly. “I mean a lot of people make me happy, but it’s different with him. It always has been.”

3. are there any songs that bring them joy?

“Stella by Cereus Bright is one of my favorite songs--it just bleeds joy. You can’t listen to that song and not feel happy.”

4. are they happy often?

“I’m...not unhappy often. I don’t know, happiness has this weird, supernatural expectation around it nowadays and it feels...unattainable. Which makes me sound like I’m a disaster human who’s always upset--but that’s not true either. I just...I enjoy things. I guess I’m happy. Sorry, this is turning out to be literally such a downer, goodness. I’m really ok, I promise. I enjoy my life, for the most part and I laugh a lot more lately--and genuinely. So that counts for something.”

5. what brings them the most joy in the world?

“If I knew that, I’d be doing that all the time.” Lia laughed. “But I guess that’s partly what life is about, right? Figuring out what that is? Also, does it have to be a thing? An action? Can it be a person? A memory? I don’t know.”

N: Never Have I Ever

1. what would they never do?

“Break the law. I’d probably turn myself in before I got away with it, let’s be real. Sorry I’m definitely lame as I’ll get out.”

2. what have they never done that they want to do?

“Skinny dip?” The blonde laughs, shaking her head. “No no, I mean it’s one my list, sure but that’s not the right answer. Uhm...Oh, I would love to go to Scotland. In the winter. Which is so not what my inner southern gal wants to hear, but I just...I think it would be so pretty. And something I’ve never done.”

3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do?

“There’s a lot--not enough time to share it all. But I can’t imagine why people bully others. What do you get out of it that makes it so enticing? I just...why can’t you just be kind?”

4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done?

“I--well, I tried to flirt with someone in French back in London. That did not go so well. Note to self, I might speak French but that does not mean I should try to be flirting in it. I can barely talk to cute guys in English.”

5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do?

“Yeah, quite recently, actually.” She smiles softly. “I don’t take risks, so when I do its always a surprise. A good one, though.”

#ftcassia

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insanetwocubes · 7 years

Text

Tw: concepts that might cause derealization

I talked to my brother and to Four, now that I remember, about Last Thursday-ism. And lyke I’d love to subscribe to Last thursdayism (and I guess that’s coming from my ever-constant urge to run away from reality (does that count as dissociation, DSM-V?)) if it wasn’t for all the weird stuff about god judging you and everyone being basically specially-designed ai’s to test you. I mean that’s so fucking creepy? How can you like that religion? So weird.

Then again, there was that one time CGPGrey talked about effectively dying every time you lose consciousness and that thought has the same comfort of last thursdayism but also this creepiness about how you don’t own anything. Lyke, according to him, the person that built up everything that existed before your current waking cycle is dead. And now you, whatever you can logically define as yourself are basically a foreign invader that just inherited all this information that’s been passed down from one foreign entity to another all from one waking cycle to the next.

Sorry if that’s too creepy. Should probably have an unreality warning up here.

Yeah.

See, I don’t get why I’m creeped out by it. Maybe all the things Four keeps saying about me being too tyrannical are more true that I realize. If I don’t have enough ownership over something, then I feel uncomfortable, as if I seek safety in control. But this isn’t about safety. Or maybe it is. But I’m just realizing it as ownership right now.

Fuck it’s 4. I have work in the morning and an hour commute to it.

But shit I want to reach some conclusion about this.

If I don’t....if everything in the brain isn’t mine....then I....don’t know who I am. I define myself by the memories I own. My experiences have shaped me as a person. I consider my aspirations (whenever I have enough imagination to come up with any) a very minimal part of me. Anyone can have aspirations, dreams,wishes, goals. All they need to say is “I want ___” and it’s theirs. But no one else has my memories nor can they be taken away from me. Therefore, they’re part of who I am.

So if they are taken away from me, then they are not mine. And if I don’t have them, then what defines me as a person? That’s what’s making me uncomfortable. If I don’t remember, then I don’t have an identity.

Is this why I don’t have notable unusual amnesia as part of the identity dissociation? lololol

Four knows who she is-

Lolol it’s a parallel of that AILD quote. Four knows she is, because she does not know whether she is or not. She is not who she is and she is who she is not. And therefore she cannot empty herself for sleep in an unlamped room.

How long have I lain beneath strange roofs, thinking of home?

Lololol XD I can’t believe how that worked out.

I was saying. Four knows who she is by her uhm ambitions and lyke personality traits? By her interests. But I guess my interests aren’t a unique enough combination? Lyke I can name a few things that are interesting to me, but Four’s perception of her identity is so much more than that. She will get right down to the specifics “I like this specific things because this specific part of it gives me this specific feeling” while I would say something like “I like this general thing because I remember it made me some immitation of happy for a moment once or twice.” Lyke I don’t know what about it makes me happy because the second time I try to replicate it, it never works! It’s always random because my brain just breaks when it comes to emotions. Sometimes there’s a very vague idea of consistency and other times I’m just banging a wrench on the wall in frustration.

But Four I guess has more consistency than that. I mean, that’s where we differ. Her passion rarely falters. And mine is rarely significant.

Another difference is that you’re trying to find results, while I’m not.

You also rarely feel nothing at all and therefore don’t need to look for results.

True. I might be taking that for granted. I can’t imagine not knowing what kind of person you are.

Well, you help. A lot. Lyke you literally-

“-never shut up about me.”

-never shut up about me.

Yeah, yeah, same can be said about you. Thought of me once and now you’ve been on me for 20 minutes straight.

Ffffff crap.

Which is as flattering as always, don’t get me wrong.

So, You’re saying all my descriptions of you help a lot?

I mean, not to mention that all of them are very high praises most of the time. But you’re just lyke always there. (Validating me.)

My perspective helps you feel less guilty about your existence?

A lot more solid, I would say.

Huh. Never thought that helps.

I mean.I don’t know. This is really wishy-washy. Sorry, I didn’t mean get on this topic.

No need apologize. (Why are you back-pedaling? I /want/ to help.)

Because this whole subject is really lyke fay! *wiggles her fingers and cringes away in disgust*

Lol You are so weird.

Y’know Flare, for all the strength I praise you of, you are such a baby when it comes to genuine intimacy. Sounds like someone has a lot of issues~

I don’t even know where you’re going with this.

It was a joke.

(We both know it wasn’t just a joke.)

(I stand my ground.)

....Okay. (Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who is made out to look weak and broken.)

No one said you were broken.

You JUST implied that I’m malfunctioning.

If you expect yourself to be perfect all the time (to never need help), you’re a fool.

You say that like I can help it!

Of course, you can help it.You’re a god.

I’m not that kind of god!

.... >:|

I don’t understand. You can’t be not able to just change that. It’s obviously inaccurate to reality.

*shakes her head shrugs*

Sorry. I’m being way too harsh and you’re getting defensive. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way after....the previous topic.

*shrugs* (I don’t understand...) I wish I could....

Four, you are so confusing to me as a person.

.... :J Thanks.

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.”

*hugs Flare* (It’s okay to be confused, y’know. You don’t have to be in control all the time. I know it’s scary to you to the point of where you feel like you’re losing your identity. It’s okay be scared, too. And it’s okay to not know who you are. You can’t know danger without ever being hurt. You can’t know happiness without ever being surprised. You can’t know who you are without first letting go of who people want you to be.)

.....You’re getting taller.

~Flare

#dicerolls #like if you read reblog if you want #txt #things1said #things4said #intersysconvos

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