#* ic ask.

❝ then don’t. ❞ it’s said so plainly, as if there’s no implication beyond it. as if she can’t possibly have her own reasons for hiding what she needs to. then again sam usually has his own ways of softly dragging the truth from people.

❝ what’s going on, huh? ❞ he realizes what he’s asking for. knows it may not be pretty but then again, when is anything in their life? from the beginning the world had its claws in the both of them with no sign of release. caged animals doing their damndest to pry their way free. this is no different, another obstacle they’d need to climb and as long as they’re in it together, that’s what matters.

sam expects her to be angry with him. hell, as long as he’s getting answers she could punch, kick and scream at him and he’d be content.. he just needs to hear her say it.

Venetia tilts her head, sucking death into her lungs as she produces a rather long drag from her cigarette. They're rarely without smokes. It's been a shared comfort of theirs for the better part of 6 or so years. She's quiet, calculating precisely how to respond to her brother, one puff after the other before propping the nicotine stick between her fore & middle finger. She licks her lips, forgetting she'd placed on a strawberry flavored lip gloss that catches her lightly off guard before providing a genuine smile. They have the connection of twins born upon the very same day, though they are nearly a year apart. He's been her protector, provider and loudest cheerleader, even when they disagree.

She bites back the notion that he's looking for something, wanting something and instead responds with: "Well I should hope so." Siblings can be soulmates, she's always known it, believed it, cherished it, her eyes flashing to the shared tattoo upon her hand.

Finally, Vennie challenges him, "What have you done?" it's a tease, but also a very real inquisition. What sticky situation shall she be aiding him with this time? Or, perhaps he's seeking a favor. Sometimes he wants to butter her up, while others he's just being a sweetheart. More often than not, it is difficult to tell, even for her, who truly knows Felix better than anyone on planet Earth.

                                        there’s a hand in his hair, calloused fingers running through the locks and soft brown eyes staring into his blue. her stare does not waver-- if she could, he would be all she looked at. he’s her sun in this world of darkness. her anchor in this sea. the blood that runs through her veins. to her, HE’S EVERYTHING. when she’s with him, time stands still; just the two of them against the world. her home. he holds her heart upon the palm of his hand.

the lovers are covered with sanguine. blood seeping into their skin, a stain that she could never quite get out. but even so, her hand remains in his hair while the other is intertwined with his own. the blood is just an afterthought when they’re together. he helps her forget, and michonne hopes she does the same for him.

random asks. always welcome.

Venetia presses her palm firmly against her lips, nearly biting it, stifling her fit of laughter. Her eyes close, though it's a bit counterintuitive given the fact that just because she cannot see Felix, does not inherently mean he cannot see her -- though, she did believe so as a child. They're not children anymore. Grown up, gallivanting about the property like a pair of silly youths. Vennie has genuinely missed this. All of it. Having Felix around has calmed her soul, it's re-enriched her life. It's brought color to her pale cheeks. Which is why she's a fit full of giggles as he drags her out from the closet and tosses her over his shoulders, like a rag doll.

"Ooof! Fee!" she squeaks. "I reckon you'll pop my back the next you try that little move." Venetia scolds half-heartedly. "Do be careful, I am precious cargo." she adds, attempting to sit up and preview where's taking her.

spotify wrapped has arrived. send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song, or a lyric from it, or send a 🎁 for me to shuffle

#12) tomorrow - silverchair

spotify wrapped has arrived. send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song, or a lyric from it, or send a 🎁 for me to shuffle

#35) i can’t handle change - roar