Dec 24, 2017
He’s in it for the reservation #broadwaybae
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He’s in it for the reservation #broadwaybae
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I want to thank both God and Jesus for Daveed being shirtless and funny. #Wallslides #Rocket #DramaBae #BroadwayBae
"Books?" Her eyes were blank — they always were, as flat and dull as Conor’s were fiery, but he remembered a time before they put vials in her hands and pills between her teeth when they danced with a spark of life that couldn’t be prescribed. He hated it, what had happened to her, with a sick sort of pain in his chest that only got worse now that he was standing in front of her, all tense muscles and wary glances. If he were caught in this act, it wouldn’t bode well for either of them.
"This isn’t what makes you feel, Books!” He had one of her vials clenched in his fist, waving it in front of her face in the hope of eliciting some sort of offbeat reaction, some flicker of the girl who hadn’t needed potions or brews to feel anger or love or quiet contentedness. No response. Conor looked at the label, willing the blocky letters to sift into a word: caml? Calm? Calm. She had taken Calm.
Though Books was evidently feeling very serene, Conor was anything but, fingers trembling, growing more agitated as the moments passed. Soon her aunt and uncle would return, and he would have missed his narrow window of opportunity. Without thinking any further (that had never been his strongest point), he threw the bottle at the ground, letting the glass and the misty-looking liquid inside splatter his shoes.
Books listened to Conor blankly, head tilted slightly to the side like a child only vaguely intrigued by something new. A faint smile remained fixed on her lips as he yelled at her, and she honestly couldn't care less about what he was saying. The words bounced uselessly against her like water off a duck's back.
She took a step back when the bottle shattered on the ground, blinking her eyes once, twice...but that was it. Quickly, she strode over to the kitchen to grab a towel to clean up the broken vial. It wasn't like it was any loss to her; she had dozens of those vials stocked in the cabinets, alongside all the other drugs the doctors had prescribed to her. Joy, Calm, Empathy, Love--all stocked in bottles and boxes, ready to be taken and felt.
"Why'd you do that?" Books asked levelly, crouching down and beginning to pick up the pieces of glass. Her dull eyes flicked up to him. "Are you taking Anger? The doctor said some people take it to get an adrenaline rush, but it's not healthy for you..."
Are you sure this is legal?
"Probably not," Books grinned, using a pile of crates to climb up onto the building's fire escape. Quickly, she undid the latch on the ladder and let it fall to the ground, the bright, mischievous light never leaving her eyes. "But it's got one hell of a view."
Face thing? (I'm so sorry Conor is being really uncooperative today and just wants kisses)
LIps: Love
Throat: Desire
Books and Conor lay on the roof of the apartment building, watching the clouds lazily shift and swirl overhead. A mischievous smirk pulled on Books’ lips, and coyly, she rolled over so that she was straddling him, leaning down to press her lips fervently against his. After a few moments, Books began trailing kisses down his jawbone to his throat before finally resting her head against his chest. “I love ya, Conor,” she murmured softly, toying with his collar.
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Hello hello I would like the K
4. Forehead Kiss
Books sighed softly, running a hand through Conor's messy hair as he slept. The poor boy had caught the bad flu that had been circulating around the Newsboys' Lodging House for the past few weeks, and after much persuasion and pleading--which may or may not have involved numerous promises of kissing and cuddling when he got better--Books finally got Conor to lie down and rest. Carefully, Books leaned down and kissed Conor's forehead gently. "Get well soon, you crazy boy."
The Dragon Rider and the Prince || conor-mcginness
"Whoo-hoo!"
Books let out a loud whoop of excitement as she soared through the clouds atop her dragon Celtore. The sleek black dragon wore an almost identical grin of elation, gurgling with excitement as he sharply pulled his wings in and banked steeply, twisting into a swift barrel roll before dropping into a nosedive towards the forest below.
"Here we gooooo!" Books grinned, gripping the edge of her saddle for dear life. Abruptly, Celtore pulled out of the dive, his wings just skimming the tips of the treetops. He quickly eased into a more leisurely flight, cocking his head back to glance at his rider.
"Ha, excellent work, buddy!" Books laughed, leaning forward to pat Celtore's neck. The dragon growled happily in response and gently wheeled around to head back to their town.
((Agh I'm so sorry I haven't gotten to replies yet Liz but here have a Conor to hopefully make up for it))