#for jackson

This year has been fucking wild. Like, so fucking wild. I met you a little over a year ago (and I lowkey disliked you buuuut the same goes for Art and Sarah. Conditions of being my ride or die: I have to hate you first.) and it has been a wild time getting to know you. First impressions were always kind of weird to me, and I've learned not to judge them. Your first impression was loud. So loud. And obnoxious. And I guess you weren’t afraid to be yourself. And I AM DUMB AND I HATED IT. (I also dated J*ff so you know I have bad judgment :0) Ya know?) You, my dear, are celestial. Having known you is a blessing. And the fact you live so fiercely you? Fucking Brilliant. 

uhhh *insert tacky poetry*

Just kidding. I got some....uhhh bars (is that what rappers say???)

celestial boy, constellation freckles-

hands like bird bones, cradle that fragile heart to a flame and breathe. 

wolves raised the likes of you, do no harm take no shit,

learn to bite back when pushed too far. 

mean girl on a friday night, cat claws sharpened to a point. 

living authentically in a world that is all copy-paste reality fabricated over social media. 

a smile made of marble, modernity borne from the birth of venus. 

a love like yours is the fiercest most beautiful kind. 

Starter call 

Gil went mindless. His body moved left to right without any spatial awareness. His ears rang with the overload of sounds reverberating all around him. He couldn’t swallow or speak. He couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening. Not Marina. She was innocent! Those bastards would pay for what they’d done – no matter what happened they would pay.

 A scream brought him back to reality. Rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair he whirled towards the guttural, primal yell. “Jackie! Jackson,” the man called, forcing himself to go towards the gory scene. He dropped to his knees beside his best friend. “Jackie. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. They play for this. I promise you. They will pay.”

 He squeezed Jackson’s shoulder with one hand. With the other, he reached and felt her neck. “Jackie, feel her neck. She has a pulse. It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. It was faint and thread. It was barely there. But she had a pulse.

 How many times had the roles been switched? How many times had Jackson been the one to comfort him? How many times had he talked him off a ledge? Too many for him to count.