#fatebane

           DESIGNER      THREADS  ,      𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘴.     finally a person with impeccable taste.   ❛        is  that  alexander    mcqueen   ?       BELIEVE ME   ,      i    know     an    𝙰𝙻𝙴𝚇𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙼𝙲𝚀𝚄𝙴𝙴𝙽    outfit   when    i    see     one.          ❜

@fatebane said:    catharsis. god knows i’m due for some, right? \ beverly

    𝙱𝙴𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝚆𝙽 𝙲𝚄𝚁𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚂, 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙸𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙶𝙾𝙻𝙳𝙴𝙽.  it spills out around the window’s edges, the way froth from a carbonated beverage sometimes expands past its constraints, and outlines the rectangle of fabric in a fuzzy honey-colored halo, infusing the contrived darkness of the room with a stark reminder of the sun.  will doesn’t have curtains on his windows; deliberate blindness is unsustainably naive, and a choice he doesn’t have the luxury of making.  he sleeps in his living room in a tight-fisted grasp at vigilance, and control only works when paired with awareness.  he values his privacy, but not to the point of malignant indulgence.

    the light casts a glare on the television screen, where a dark title screen loops against a backdrop of ominous music.  though the film hasn’t started, will is certain he won’t be interested—movies and tv shows have never held much appeal, and he’s really only ever entertained them on the rare occasions he has ventured into socialization.  this was beverly’s choice, not his, but it’s something he’s willing to indulge.  he won’t pretend to like it, but he likes her, and that’s enough.

    she pads into the living room cradling a bowl of popcorn in the crook of her arm, two glasses in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.  the smell of salt and butter is strong and entirely expected, comforting in the distant, conceptual way cliches sometimes are.  easy and domestic and familiar—in theory, if not in practice.  he takes the glass from beverly with a brief smile, lips twitching up and then down again, like the muscles around his mouth are too unpracticed to hold the pose for long, and lets her pour them both a few fingers’ worth once she’s unburdened herself of the rest of the spoils and settled beside him on the couch.  he noses the whiskey while she reaches for the remote, letting the pungent sting of it overpower the soft, warm scent of the popcorn.

    beverly speaks as she settles back into the cushions, flashing will a wry smile as she digs a handful of popcorn out of the glass bowl.  they rustle dully against each other, kernels rasping against the bottom, where they’ve settled.  will’s eyes are drawn to the movement, ivory and gold jostling beneath the disruption of her hand.  his brows pull together, mouth twisting without any real humor.

    “when has god cared about what we’re due?”    he asks drily.  immediately, regret pangs in his chest; he winces, and hides it behind his glass of whiskey, with which he chases his words.

╰   ＊  ·      𝙾 𝚁 𝙳 𝙴 𝚁   𝚄 𝙿     :        (  @fatebane​  )       ▬▬       I haven't been following you for long, but i've seen you around the place far longer and just - from what i've seen you've got this punch and beauty to your writing that just - gives tifa such presence?? it's really amazing and just - hecka respect you. mwa!!!        /      𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐘’𝐒  𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋.

@fatebane​ said:  “ no, i could never give you peace ” \ joel

FOLKLORE VOL. 2.    STATUS:  ACCEPTING.    

her breathing’s heavy,  hands curled into tight fists at her sides.  it's taking everything she has not to just lash out and   ---   and what?  start beating the shit out of him?  doubtful.  he’d killed so many fireflies back in that hospital.  so many of her friends.  and her dad.  most importantly,  her dad.  her anger is enough that she thinks she just might be able to pull off a win,  but it’s not something she’ll risk.   she’s still surprised she and her companions had been accepted here with such relative ease.   

“what?  are you gonna spout some bullshit about how i have to find that myself?”   an incredulous laugh follows the words as abby shakes her head,   “i know the full story here.”   then something dawns on her as expression and tone shift to more threatening than defensive,   “does she?  did you give her a choice?  or did you need to justify the fact that you killed so fucking many people  ‘rescuing’  her by lying?  or was it so she could have peace?  i wouldn’t put it past you to lie.  or to try to offer peace to those who aren’t looking for it.”   she hardly knows him,  and her biases lead her down a path paved of pain and anger,  but she’s stubborn.  an angry teenager with no family.  not anymore.  and it’s his fault.