PSL/Meme Continuation

[cadereagratia]

for PSLs/Meme Continuations

Comments

for @innkeeper

[cadereagratia]

((ooc: tfln continuation!))

[innkeeper]

I'd be totally offended if I wasn't the one to crack the joke first.

Again, unfortunately, yeah. But I'm completely self-sufficient and I haven't taken anything from them other than Rory's Chilton tuition. Her relying on them for Yale was entirely her idea.

tfln continuation for @undiagnosed

[cadereagratia]

((ooc: from whenst))

It’s Latin, asshole.

I’m a Latin teacher. You know that.

[undiagnosed]

If you teach Latin why were you texting me in Spanish??

[he knows. he knew. he just lives for pissing this idiot off.]

tfln continuation for @undiagnosed

[cadereagratia]

((ooc: continued from here))

?? ???? ? ?
no??

Why are you lik e this? I’m trying to talk to you

[undiagnosed]

You're a bitch and where are you

for @kunimeh

[cadereagratia]

[Fucking. Fireworks.

[It's amazing how awe-inspiring an outsourced orgasm can be when enough time has passed since the last one. After about two or three, Whelk is feeling not unlike an absolute God of a man. He manages to play it cool even so, sitting up in bed and lighting a cigarette. Before he takes a full drag though, he holds it up to Kunimi's lips, carefully withholding a smile without making it too obvious that he's doing so. The two men are still doing the same dance that started at the speed-dating table, and at this point, Whelk is quite positive that he doesn't want it to end any time soon.

[His troubles at this moment seem very, very far away.]

Finis coronat opus. [The withheld smile becomes a withheld smirk.] "The end crowns the work."

[kunimeh]

[The sheer tectonic force of Whelk's first orgasm, the way it ripped through him and made him shake until Kunimi thought he'd crumble to pieces, was Kunimi's first clue that Whelk might have some shit going on. Then he bounced back alarmingly fast, not just once but twice, and Kunimi was effectively left far too exhausted - and sated - to wonder about said shit.

Maybe he's superhuman, who knows? Kunimi's fine with uncovering the secret of superpowers if it means he'll get fucked like this.

Sprawled on his back, unfocussed eyes pointed at the ceiling, he draws on the cigarette that's pressed to his lips and lets out the lungful of smoke as a blissful sigh. Then he turns his gaze to Whelk, who's more gorgeous than ever in the afterglow - that fact seems unfair when Kunimi couldn't get it up even once more to save his life, but he still makes for a better view than the ceiling.]

I never knew Latin was so sexy. [Ah yes, indirect praise with languages in the place of names. Kunimi's getting the hang of this deflection tactic.]

for @kunimeh

[cadereagratia]

[It has been incredibly and aggravatingly difficult to wait until Monday morning to text Kunimi Akira. The thought of making him sweat is the only thing that causes Whelk to power through.]

“Intelligent” indeed.

I should thank you for the puzzle, Akira.

[kunimeh]

[Kunimi's spent the better part of the weekend convincing himself that he didn't really have that great a time with Whelk, and he really doesn't like him very much, and he'll have no problem finding similar dudes to hook up with.

Then Whelk texts him and he pretty much explodes into a whole Kunimi-sized cloud of butterflies.]

Oh did you translate it literally? Haha you added a difficulty level there.

Morning gelato

[kunimeh]

[Kunimi's seated by the shop window, watching the largely quiet and deserted street outside with a now-familiar nervous fluttering in his chest. His clothes are almost aggressively casual, just a simple t-shirt with jeans and an oversized hoodie, to camouflage the intense anticipation he's been coping with all week.

No, he hasn't spent the better part of every single day thinking about this date with Whelk. Of course not. He just rolled out of bed, cleaned himself up, threw on whatever was nearby and clean, and caught the bus.

He's also turned off the ringer on his phone - not just vibrate but full airplane mode silence. The handful of friends he's told about this thing with Whelk have been less than supportive, and maybe he'd see the concern in their questions if he hadn't left Japan with ambivalent feelings about everything and everyone he was leaving behind, but all he sees now is people who claim to care about him being shitty about his happiness. Not a great look.

Ah, is that - ? A familiar car pulls up and Kunimi sits up ramrod straight, then forces himself to relax again. Not overeager! Totally chill! Just here because he didn't find anything better to do in the meantime!!!

Damnit. His cheeks are heating up already.]

[cadereagratia]

[As Whelk pulls into the parking lot, the first thing he does is look around for cars that are nicer than his - BMWs, foreign sports cars, an oppressively orange-red Camaro that's half-broken down and full of idiots. To his decided relief, the lot is empty of anything but the usual Henrietta pick-up trucks and mid-sized sedans. A gelato date can only be so early on a Saturday morning, but it seems that 10:00am is early enough to have avoided the hordes of Aglionby boys that he so dreads. He never comes to Harry's, partially because it reminds him of being a teenager, but more so because the idea of seeing a student after school hours makes him want to burn down whatever building he's currently nearest to.

[He will avoid an arson charge today yet.

[He exits his car, which he's actually bothered to clean this time around (just in case), and tries to look casual as he enters the shop. This is made difficult by the fact that he can see Kunimi through the shop window, dressed adorably in an oversized hoody that makes him appear smaller than he actually is. This causes Whelk some distress. It is a very enticing look in a way that is entirely opposite of how Whelk expected to be enticed. He himself is dressed more casually than he would be at work, but more formally than Kunimi is - dark khaki pants rather than slacks, and a simply, solid-colored button-up shirt. This is partially an issue of pride. T-shirt and sweatpants are reserved for his townhouse, because he simply will not be seen as the common Henrietta rabble that he has most decidedly become. But he doesn't want to walk around in a blazer looking like an Aglionby teacher everywhere he goes. There's a small splash of cologne somewhere in the mix too, which he's a little self-conscious about for 10:00am at Harry's Gelato, but he has a feeling that Kunimi won't mind it.

[His heart is beating obnoxiously fast as he enters the building, the bell above him dinging oppressively, and the waitress behind the counter greeting him even more so. He hasn't been on a proper date since he was seventeen years old. It's more than nerve-wracking, especially given the realization that he wants it to go well. Very discomfiting.

[But he positively has to play it cool, because he will definitely end up liking Kunimi less if he can't continue playing his game with him. He slides easily into the booth without a formal greeting, smile carefully withheld - it's more difficult to do that today for some reason. Kunimi isn't the only one who's been waiting anxiously for this morning. He says in a low voice:]

Who do you think is more confused that we're here before noon - Harry's staff, or the regulars that don't like their morning Gelato interfered with?

[What other sort of idiot would eat Gelato at 10:00am?]

for @kunimeh

[cadereagratia]

[The rest of the day had been spent playing a game that consisted of finding things to do and reasons to stay together until it was time to go back to Whelk's townhome and drink. It had been an anxious sort of thing in the way that Whelk was quite eager to get Kunimi truly alone, quite eager to drink, and quite eager to be home in general, as spending his time loitering around Henrietta is something that he hasn't done by choice since he was probably seventeen years old. Even so, the game had been exciting, characterized by careful, teasing flirting and repeated episodes of realizing again that Kunimi's presence tends to make even the most mundane of activities more enjoyable than they otherwise would be. Once they made it back to the townhome, the game had continued for a while with Whelk pouring drinks made up of alcohol that's mid-range at best, but still more expensive than the cheap vodka or beer he usually drinks. He goes slower than normal, his drinking usually characterized by downing as much as possible as fast as possible until he stops thinking. It's new territory to try to keep his wits about him enough to continue holding the power in their tense dynamic.

[However, after about an hour and a half of chatting, eating, and slowly drinking all the while throughout, Whelk is feeling pleasantly drunk rather than black-out wasted, and it's actually nice. Usually alcohol his a desperately sought out coping mechanism or sleep aid, but tonight it's a recreational activity that's shared with someone.

[Whelk is beginning to get very used to the idea of someone being around. He doesn't realize in his current state that that's potentially dangerous. He's seated on the leather couch with his legs crossed under him and his head leaned back against the back cushion, talking about college of all things.]

You seem old to be in your third year - a birthday thing, I know. [Something about his voice - although he doesn't quite notice it - is different than usual. His accent is more prevalent, for one, and his tone is quite pleasant compared to his usual perpetually half-irritated way of speaking. He seems relaxed.

[He's also changed into more comfortable clothes, giving his appearance a hint of that same domestic, at-home image that Kunimi had seen last Saturday morning.]

I'm twenty-four and I only graduated...mm..[He stops to think about it.] Three years ago. About.

[kunimeh]

[Kunimi's got his back against the opposite arm of the couch and his legs pulled up in front of him, arms looped around them in what might look like a defensive or closed posture. The truth is that he just wants to face Whelk directly while staying beside him on the couch, and he's got a half-formed notion in his pleasantly buzzed mind that he might stretch his legs out onto Whelk's lap at some point. Not yet, but soon.]

Our school years run at different times, that might be why you get confused. I left Aoba Johsai in March and started at Tohoku in April, so I had half a year done when American students would be starting. Does that make sense?

[Does it? Again, pleasantly buzzed. Kunimi wriggles his toes, socked feet brushing against Whelk's hip. This is the coziest he's felt literally anywhere since moving to Virginia.]

party boy millionaire noah ours with @punksdead

[cadereagratia]

[It's been years. Years spent just as lonely as he'd been when things at all first gone to shit. There'd been some mandated therapy since, but it didn't stick once the legal requirement had worn off. That was...only a few years ago. Lucky of him not to be in prison for attempted murder though. Underage assault charges are very gracious a thing.

[Still, his life hasn't exactly been pleasant since. Passable, but not pleasant. He's still the same greedy, miserable bastard he's always been, but now so very, very alone.

[Seeing Czerny's face in an interview about a new invention had been jarring - a bit embittering. A lot embittering. Abandoned by the one person who'd ever been loyal to him - had been. That's how Whelk feels. But whether or not he can really blame him is up for debate.

[No, he really can't blame him. He does, but he shouldn't. His emotions are - as always - terribly mixed beyond the point of recognition.

[He really shouldn't text him. It's been six years. He'd be entirely pathetic to come groveling back for attention now, so he really shouldn't. He sits there for quite a long time thinking that. And then he does it anyway.]

Has your number changed?

[punksdead]

[He didn't have the science smarts. That's what everyone had told him: a good idea means nothing without a big brain to back it up. But they don't know his brain, right? Ideas out the ears, all in crazy colors, so bright and loud sometimes that he can't sleep. And as soon as he got out of the sticks and stopped playing tagalong in someone else's smoke trails, that's when he really showed everyone.

"Mr. Hoverboard" is full of glitches that someone else is responsible for fixing, comes in three bright colors, and has made Noah into the East Coast's luckiest young entrepreneur. It's also made his schedule ridiculous, and it's only due to approximately three illicit substances that he's seeing this text at a normal hour, after nearly twenty-seven hours awake.]

depends
r u someone i like

wait is this ashley

no
dominic

DARK ADAM AU /SCREAMS

[existandbleed]

[When they went to wake the ley line, it was Adam and Gansey both in the circle, side by side, staring down Whelk like a King and his Vizer, alive with possibility that crackles on the air. It's a small thing, the thought that ruins it all, really. He doesn't want this to be another thing Gansey owned, but power he could have for himself. He wishes, for the smallest instant, that he was alone in the circle. That Gansey--

He's honestly surprised he'd lived through it. Maybe Ronan had thought of how much Gansey would have hated it. Maybe he didn't think Adam was worth it. But coming back here makes his stomach twist, makes him feel sick, like Gansey's body is still going to be there waiting for him. But standing on the gravel he takes one slow breath and then another, steeling himself. Hard eyes that are more grey than blue in the dim half-light of early evening staring down the entrance to the forest.

He wonders if it will trample him like it did Whelk, and thinks your hands and eyes, your hands and eyes with all the intensity he can to remind it of who he is, why he's here as he stepped inside. The thing inside of him does not feel like a friend.

Adam's been trying from his bedroom, but he can't understand what Cabeswater is trying to tell him. Instead it chokes him with vines every time he touches water, and he's been tolerant but he needs to know what it wants, something more than the way it screams like a feral child deprived of its favorite toy in every mirror reflection. He thinks of Gansey bathed in golden light, voice hushed with awe and love as he talked about the fish changing colors for him. Bright scarlet, sunset red that he tries not to remember as blood. The first of them Cabeswater had touched with magic. Gansey is everyone's favorite anyway- was their favorite- and he's given this impossible place poor sceptic Adam as an unworthy replacement.

Normally he'd try and square his shoulders with someone else's genial demeanor, try to look like something he wasn't and hope the feeling would sink into his bones. But all his borrowed mannerisms have Gansey's name on them, and those words don't fit into Adam's shape anymore. It leaves him looking sharp and distant, something cruel in the set of his mouth, and not at all like a boy that doesn't know how to admit that he wants to scream.

He finally feels it- the pulse of the ley line, the center. He's not expecting to see a figure, someone that looks a little smudged around the edges, dark hair. Some sort of apparition, and he adjusts the strap of his bag against his shoulder. Paranoia has always been Adam's truest friend.]

What are you doing here?

[cadereagratia]

["An apparition". That's what Barrington Whelk has been reduced to, and at the hands of some Henrietta trailer trash kid with his dad's gun, no less. He hadn't witnessed the entirety of what had happened - the memory overall is a terribly fuzzy thing. But what he does remember is seeing the stampede, knowing what was going to happen, and the feeling of being trampled, of bones being broken in a hundred places at once, of struggling to breath when his chest caved in.

[And then this. Cabeswater. Trapped on the ley line in an area of bizarre liminal space that he can't escape from.

[As if he'd have anywhere to go anyway. There's not a single person alive who cares that he isn't. He knows that. The idea that he'd had nothing left to lose didn't go away just because he didn't get what he wanted. He's truly lost everything now, and the strangest thing about that is that it doesn't feel much different from being alive.

[Still, in death, he didn't think he'd have to see a student again. Especially not that student. Sometimes Cabeswater really does seem like the Hell he'd been counting on in the moments before he stopped being alive.

[He doesn't look at Adam, only scoffs and puts something to his lips. It's a cigarette, and it doesn't do anything other than remind him what it felt like to hold one.]

As if you don't know just as well as I do.

All I am is here now. Little fucker...

barry & es @57times

[cadereagratia]

[He knows it's morning because the light in the room has changed through the drawn curtains. He can count a hundred more little spots on the ceiling tile directly above him than he could twenty minutes ago. And he does. He's been doing it for hours, starting over when he runs out or loses his place. The TV is playing reruns of The Andy Griffith Show on volume setting 2, and he can barely hear it, but that's fine, because he isn't listening. He's listening to Esther breathing, because she fell asleep almost 15,000 spots ago. And he's counting, and tapping his fingers on his chest while he does it, and mouthing the numbers in Latin.

[It's good that she's actually sleeping. He pretended to fall asleep so that she would. And for once, it worked. So then, she was really tired, and she needed to sleep.

[He couldn't sleep. Not tonight. It wasn't the right sort of night for sleeping. Not for him. So he's counting, because if he doesn't, his brain will do something else, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?

[He mouths the numbers. Latin counting is complicated, but he's good at it. Damn romance languages. English really did get it right using Arabic numerals.

[He feels Esther move just an inch, and he freezes, and stops counting. His hands falls flat against his chest, and he glances at her with only his eyes. But he can't make out if she's awake.

[But now he's lost count.]

Es?

[He nudges her with his foot.]

Esther.

[57times]

[ Despite her arguments to the contrary, Esther is always tired. Exhausted, in every sense of the word. But familiarity breeds adaptability, and now she barely notices how badly she needs to rest. Or at least, she barely notices until she's laying down and warm, assured by the door wedged closed and locked, and by Barry laying next to her.

It's easiest to fall asleep like that, and stay asleep too, even if she rarely expects to.

She did last night though - she barely remembers even going to bed as she stirs close to wakefulness. She knows Barry's still there. Still there, will warm, still smells the same. Feels like comfort, safety.

He nudges her, and she's aware around the same time that he's saying her name, and when she next exhales, a soft sound of acknowledgement hitches a ride. She doesn't open her eyes yet, but she does curl a bit closer, letting her forehead bump against his shoulder.

Another, deep breath - the 'definitely awake' sort - and softly and sleepily, she asks; ]

You okay...?

for @headhooligan \ limbo verse meme thing

[cadereagratia]

((ooc: from this TL))

["Easy. I'd stop being such a jerk to my best friend."

[Ha...]

What'd you do to them? Can't be that bad, surely.

[He tries his best to sound disinterested, but when Whelk does that, he always ends up sounding akin to how someone would look trying to read a book over your shoulder at the library. Pathetic.]

lesgoooo x2 combo!!

[headhooligan]

[Wow. And Aubrey thought she was blunt. Unlike with Eren, she is immediately on defense.]

And what do you care? [Attitude’s audible from the outset.] You don’t even know what happened.

word association for timmy mystery muse :3c

[cadereagratia]

Money.

[bellsadonna]

Nobles.

i am GOING TO BED but

[placation]

[ ugh, what a start ]

Enough.