#floriase

           he’s busy and he keeps himself busy all the time now. He’s stocking new books, on the shelf end cap on the side. JUST IN! it reads on top of his now sculptured art form of books. He hums to himself, listening to the coffee house music playing over the overhead speakers. Now the coffee shop was everyone’s go to, but he appreciated the music. It was mostly coffee shop vibes, but occasionally there would be some 80s-90s that made him sing quietly along. Don’t Look Back in Anger by Oasis is playing now, and as familiar as he is with the band, he’s got a lot on his mind. JESS is cursing himself and what he has done to Luke, to Jimmy, -- to her. He knows better, and he knew he could’ve done better by her.  

Chloé, no matter how hard she was trying to change, still had moments that she slipped up and fell into a harsher, colder version of herself. Right now her teeth were currently biting so hard on her tongue that the taste of metallic flood her mouth. She had bite it hard enough that now it was bleeding. God who was she even looking at? They were... ugh she couldn’t deal with them. The way she looked, the way she spoke, the way that her eyes told a story that didn’t match her voice.

Then again Chloé was calling the kettle pot black. They didn’t know each other or the stories and pain they have faced. But she couldn’t help but feel like an ocean of distrust between them. That even if they were similar they weren’t similar enough. Her eyes narrowed at the over. Taking in thier outfit, hair, everything. Even then Chloé couldn’t pinpoint what gave her such a strong distaste and action towards the girl already.

Tilting her head up, eyes glaring at her, Chloé steps forward. One of her hands almost reaching forward, twitching at the want to reach out and touch the girl, slap her even. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t care what you have to offer. I don’t trust you.” Each would said with carefully cold precision, that matched her steely blue eyes. Whoever this girl was, Chloé felt she was going to bring on a storm.

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄, the clinking of the glasses and a string of yellow lights being the only elements contributing to the background of lana’s and brooke’s attempt at a girls night out.  dean was settled at the motel with apple-pie and a six-pack, karaoke was on, and a few tequila shots had sufficed to make the hunter happy she’d taken up on the offer.  this was exactly what she needed after the crazy months of supernatural motions she’d been enduring, and she couldn’t possibly thank brooke enough for taking her into her inner circle like she had.  her  trust  and  willingness  to help had been truly outstanding, it felt refreshing to be able to confide in someone other than dean in this whole situation, and she made him the happiest she’d seen him in a long while, which could only count as the best perk imaginable.  

nevertheless, lana had been the center of attention ever since she introduced herself back into their narrative, and she felt a shift to some other topic of conversation was overly 𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓻𝔂.  ❛ so, enough about me.  how’d you two lovebirds first meet?  'cause dean is obviously crazy about you, and i’m sure it’s quite a story. ❜  a bright smile shaped her crimson lips, the spark in her hazel hues giving away her anticipation to hear about how this wonderful connection came to fruiction under such challenging circumstances.

I TOLD U

                                                              INBOX :  @floriase

                                   her  blind  faith,  a  downfall.  he  seriously  thinks  for  a  moment, that  it  almost  could’ve  been  FIVE  years  ago.  with  wendy  there’s  history,  history  that  includes  the  two  of  them  running  wild,  a  history  that’s  HEAVY.  truth  is  ?  he’s  still  that  sixteen  year  old  boy  who  holds  shit  against  people  until  their  last  dying  breath.  what  did  he  hold  against  wendy  ?  the  list  was  long,  painful,  and  not  wholly  her  fault.  maybe  that  was  it,  she  reminded  him  that  he  had  dipped  out,  had  become  everything  that  he  hated  about  his  OWN  father.  yeah,  there’s  some  shit  that  he  hasn’t  quite  resolved,  yet  ?  there’s  not  enough  time. “   y’know  you  keep  talkin’  like  that  i’m  gonna  forget  what  year  it  is  …  ”  words  said  with  a  certain  type  of  undercurrent. words  that  causes  brows  to  arch,  and  eyes  to  avert  downwards.  “  you  do  this,  and  it  gets  you  in  trouble  every  single  fuckin’  time  —— ”  voice  lowers  as  voice  remains  calm,  SHE  KNOWS  WHAT  HE’S  TALKING  ABOUT.  for  those  who  don’t  know,  wendy  may  still  be  in  love  with  jackson  teller.  in  fact  ?  he’s  positive  she  is,  and  it’s  difficult  to  ignore  the  looks  that  ARE  tossed  in  his  direction.  an  ‘i  love  you’  there  as  her  hand  reaches  out  to  cover  his  own.  it’s  always  in  her  gestures,  as  that  beatles  song  says  ;  somethin’  in  the  way  she  moves.

i volunteer as tribute???