pretty little fears

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒. She had stopped coming back in general. Minhee was a ghost they’d see flit through the town for a brief second before she was gone with the wind once again. It was fear of her own consequences that had her keeping her loved ones much further than an arms length away. She doesn’t understand what compels her to return this year. What puts her in this situation. Sitting on the swings of their favourite park , kissed with ice , bottle of liquor within arms reach to keep her warm as she stares down at the text she had sent.

『 sms: ji 』at the park. Leaving if you’re not here in an hour. 『 sms: ji 』 hurry up i miss you 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚍  『 sms: ji 』 hurry up.

She only pries the bottle from her lips when she hears the crunch of snow under footfall. The light in her eyes in unmistakeable but the feeling in the pit of her stomach is hard to digest. She shouldn’t be here and she wants to leave , but she digs her heels into the ground under her to stop herself from fleeing. She needed this. They needed this.

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄. Looming like the shadows , dark eyes piercing into the man before him , disdain written all over his features. His sigh shakes his bones , each joint in his body relaxing with an exhale that lifts burdens off his shoulders. But as soon as the tension is relieved , the fire is ignited. He sees red , fingers curling into fists at his side if only to keep himself from wrapping them around the other’s neck. “ Explain this , ” His voice holds weight ,  booming and yet chillingly calm. When he speaks , it’s like his tongue wraps around each syllable , dousing it in poison before it slips past his lips. 

for @disconnectng·· /// mia !

“ we’re doin’ just peachy, i promise, ” rhett drawled to the reporter. as soon as the laptop was shut and the reporter was away, though, the easy smile fell from his face. he hated pretending, he hated lying — he hated all of this. it was baffling that this could be beneficial to his career, but the ratings didn’t lie. he and mia were the dream celebrity couple. people wanted them, wanted to be them. except they were believing in a lie. it made him feel sick. still — “ ready to lie through our teeth at the premiere tonight ? ” he said it with a grin, mirthless, and he let out a huff. she could play pretend at this better than he could. he was sure they both knew it. “ we’re going to have the times of our lives. ” the roll of his eyes was unnecessary, but he couldn’t help himself.

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊 the entire time the two had eyes on them. Every now and then a soft giggle would leave her lips and she’d rest her cheek against his shoulder like nothing else in the world mattered besides them. Isn’t that what they wanted to think ?? So just before they wrap up the interview, she presses her forehead to his arm, a dreamy sigh that cuts short the minute the camera went black. 

Like a switch flicked off, she untangles herself from him to lean back in her chair, phone pulled out instantly to see what the next big rumour about them was. His voice catches her attention, brows furrowed as she squints at the star. “ Uh duh – literally what I signed up to do. It’s just business, honey. ” ‘It’s show biz baby’ is what she was going for, but the thought leaves her head as she soon as it had entered. She’s quick to turn her phone screen to him, tapping at the latest picture of them walking down the street with fingers interlaced. A much more pressing matter than his internal dilemma. “ We can fake laugh all we want later , but don’t I look fat in this photo ? Why do the paps always make you look so good ? Are they just jealous of me ?? ” She nods to herself as if confirming her own inquiry before groaning – bored already of social media – as she pushes herself off the chair.

@disconnectng.     gets a holiday starter!        ❄.

Her first Christmas with the Blakes had been one for the books. Her grandfather was big on the holiday and thus passed on his Holly Jolly Gene to Margaret once she became a Blake. Everything with the Blakes had been wonderful and would have been picturesque had she come from the orphanage unscathed. Life in the orphanage was–  haunting. From the various nights she spent waking up in peculiar places to the dark nightmares she still suffered whenever she fell into a deep enough sleep. Still, it could have been worse. She could have been stuck back there like her best friend. Living without Ava had been difficult but now they were older and Ava was coming over. Her grandfather’s bookstore was almost done being decorated, Margaret just had the tree left once she finished with the lights. Looking out the window she was framing with Christmas lights, she spotted a familiar face. “AVA!” she shouted excitedly before spinning around out of the window to grab her tank and hurry outside. “Ava! Ava, you made it!” she cried happily immediately pulling the brunette into a hug, a smile splitting her face in two. “Merry Christmas! Welcome to Harrisville!” she chirped pulling back to look at her childhood friend. “I saved the tree for last, so we could decorate it together. Come on!”

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐘, wondering if it came from the bite of cold or the heat radiating off the twinkling lights that seemed to wrap around every corner of the house they could cling to. Doe eyed and star struck, she stares down at the welcome mat under her feet, collecting snow that melted off her boots like a mother soaking up the tears of their child. Something about the bookstore felt alive, filled with warmth and security. A tight embrace in the form of walls and floorboards. The last time a building had felt alive was the orphanage, a burdened soul whose gasps would take the breath out of their occupants’ lungs. The thought immediately has her feeling hollow, and the telltale sign of her nervousness kicks back in as she chews incessantly at the skin on her lips. It’s the sight of Margaret framed by the light behind the open door that has her worries melting instantly, weight lifting from her shoulders as she melts into the embrace.

He always smells smoke. It’s suffocating.  

Hugging his knees to his chest, he blinks hard in an attempt to focus on the man lazily wiping the windows of his car. His motions are groggy and Jason wonders if he’s all there. Is he ever all there? Were any of them?

“Why do you even bother?” When he speaks his voice seems to travel through a tunnel as the sound of chattering teeth swallow his words whole. He blows into his hands in an attempt to warm up frigid fingers, the friction between calloused palms doing little but drying out the scarce moisture left on his skin.

He’s met with dark eyes that mirror his own, distant and yet focused. Kahlil doesn’t have to speak for Jason to understand. Periods of silence were their mode communication because sometimes the truth weighed down their tongues, and neither had that energy anymore. “Why do you even bother?” He asks again; as if that adds clarity to the first time he had said it. This time he can hear himself, and he’s sure Kahlil can as well. It’s evident with the heavy sigh that releases all the tension from his body.

He’s melting away and no one knows whether it’s from intoxication or exhaustion that has him leaning against the side of his car. Freshly washed soap seep through the thin tee shirt. He looks up at the vessel of his friend, or whatever was left, and can’t help but crack a grin. Brief moments like this when he was talking to Jason rather than everything else that plagued him were infrequent. Kahlil had grown to cherish them.

“You think I’m gonna drive around with dirt all over my ride?” He doesn’t offer any other explanation for why his car was covered in such filth when they lived in the heart of a bustling metropolitan. Jason doesn’t ask. It’s not like he’d remember after they made it through the night. The deterioration of his memory had started young and worsened as the years – and the terrors – dragged on.

Another lapse of silence has him going back to scrubbing the sheen back into the vehicle far from saving. When he has his head under the driver’s seat he hears a mumble. Popping his head back out he looks up at the man expectantly. Another second of stillness.

“I meant with me.”

Jason wonders if Kahlil was still high with the way he stares blankly at him. There’s nothing behind those eyes. No sign of confusion, anger or regret. All the emotions that constantly swam in his head were absent in the other’s. It’s as if he hadn’t even heard him.

But he hears him cry. 

Wail out as if he was stabbed through the heart and clutching desperately for the last bit of his life. Kahlil has him by the ankles to hoist him down and back into the passenger seat of the car, careful not to buckle him in. Not with the way had almost choked last time. They’re driving away at 4 am and anyone passing by in the middle of the night shoots the vehicle a look of concern as the pale face of a boy presses against the window, tear streaming down his face. A look of ghastly horror as if he’d seen death himself.

Kahlil writes it down in his notepad when he’s home and has put Jason to sleep after four hours of keeping him away from anything that he could put him in danger.

                      LIFE IS LIKE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES .

indie   selective  multi-muse  ft  predominantly  female  muses  because  we  support  our  local  girl  gangs .  a  whole  box  of  flavours  ranging  from  many  ocs  ,  greek  mythology  muses  ,  totally  spies  canon  muses  ,  &&  haunting  of  hill  house  inspired  babes  .  loved  on  by  tas  . cred . 

Yonghwa

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐈 is no stranger to the demons that continue to haunt her. And even less of a stranger because she has a peculiar habit of naming them. She tells her patients to let go of the monsters in their head, because attachment will ruin you from the inside out. And yet, she bathes in hypocrisy as she wields her trauma like a shield. There’s no rhyme or rhythm behind how she names the creatures she sees, it’s the first thing that pops into her mind, and the first thing that causes her heart to sink to her stomach. There’s no reason she does it, asides from the fact that they keep popping up and she’s bound to get acquainted at some point or another. However, another fun fact, she’s never seen the same demon or spirit twice, so the naming scheme is pointless. Paranoia even, but useless all in all.