Apr 1
when abra’s sleeping with fran she’ll sometimes wake up in the middle of the night just to move their hand from wherever it is to her boob and then go right back to honk shooing
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when abra’s sleeping with fran she’ll sometimes wake up in the middle of the night just to move their hand from wherever it is to her boob and then go right back to honk shooing
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@likeorpheus sent ❛ listen, i'm sorry ... for your loss. for your losses, rather. ❛
Madonna cannot look at Francis without the backs of her eyes searing, blistering — as if the black suns of her gaze were sizzling one moment, and then the next? Quiet. A break in the culminating rage that was blocking her chest, the total emptiness that knocked against her womb like a swinging fist crashing into a door. Is anyone home? Is anyone home? Is anyone home? Madonna blinks, staring at Francis staring at her — they look out-of-place in Kerry's apartment. Her blistering rage is lost all at once. She is left with the confusion — the aftermath of an apology she had not anticipated and did not know how to interpret. She watches the Highmore. They look like they've been drinking again. After some pause — a haughty drag from her cigarette, features turning away from the other. She could not deny the burn of humiliation that coupled with Francis's eyes on her now. But she could say that it was the least of her concerns.
❛ ... Yes, well. ❛ Another drag from her cigarette. She's staring out the window, that block in her chest heavy. ❛ ... It makes sense, doesn't it? Maybe there is divine justice in the world, after all. ❛
ULTRA RARE FRANABRA UNDER CUT
@likeorpheus | cont.
scout thrived off danger,it's what kept her feeling like things were real,when she felt true fear and danger around. she could tell when the vibes were off but francis wasn't giving off any bad vibes. they seemed pretty chill,and scout was glad for that. first beer in already got her socializing.
❝ got mine from abandoned places mostly. i explore haunted locations sometimes and find the coolest shit. ❞she plays with hers,spinning them around helped ease her anxiety a little. not that she was nervous she just had a hard time talking to others but the beer helped her out.
❝ man wish i could travel more. the only time i do is for work and that's boring. ❞she rolled her eyes with a sigh,sipping her beer like the dainty girl she is,she snorted at her own joke in her head and glanced over at francis,red cheeks heating up.
❝ sorry i do that sometimes. let me buy you one. the bartender here is super cool about me buying drinks for people so it's no problem. ❞
@likeorpheus
august, in his hoodie and extra roomy jacket, rubs his hands together. (thievery? aw, he was gonna be a straight menace.) his copper eyes sparkle with mischief. “ francis. ” southern twanged whispers. “ what are we – ahem – borrowin’? ”
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closed starter for ⟶ @likeorpheus
IT IS UNCOMMONLY RUDE to snatch books out of people’s hands , especially strangers’ , but Gerry does it , regardless . Being in a bookstore again , however innocuous it might seem on the outside , puts him on edge , and he is eager to leave as soon as possible . His entire body is tense , jaw set , as he glowers at the person in front of him .
" Trust me , you don’t want this one , " he tells them , holding it up and away from them . " Not a very interesting read . "
❝ @likeorpheus / FRANCIS .
❝ BEEN A WHILE. ❞ HE'D ALLOWED HIMSELF to wander, and found himself in front of a familiar face. the night was dull, dark. he'd hidden in the shadows outside after the show, leaning on a familiar tour bus. not a SINGLE person stopped him, like they knew who he was there for. his hat is low on his face, but rian knows he doesn't have to make a big show of it, there's a curve to his lips.
❝ you've been busy. ❞ there's amusement there, a sort of comfort that only comes with the age of time. when had they last seen each other? was it years ago? longer ?
❝ didn' you say y'were tryin' t'keep a low profile? ❞
🖤
𝙎𝙀𝙉𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙀 🖤 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝘼 𝙁𝙄𝙍𝙎𝙏 𝙄𝙈𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉.
𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧, Mike thinks. He's watching them and thinking he knows that face, somehow. It's a magazine cover face, not like his own, not the front of some ready to ride book cover in a porn store, something that might look out from a magazine rack and magnetize him while he's in line with his pocket full of lifesavers and chewing gum. They glide, he thinks. Maybe it's the dark hair, the way it frames around their face just so, loose, fine curls that they don't seem to care about enough to push aside, until they do. There's a secret sitting just on the tip of their tongue, Mike thinks, he can see the mouth almost tremulous to give it up, the full shape of it pursed, and waiting, waiting maybe just for someone to listen. And Mike thinks he would, but he also thinks he wouldn't understand it, and it's just as likely to come out as inconsequential as a grocery list, or pocket contents. Or their milkshake order at some greasy neon-lit diner. Mike wants to hear it anyway, trip off the tip of their tongue. It's been a long time since he got to listen to anyone talk about anything that mattered. But they're slipping through the room too fast, he's catching an eyeful of the black coat retreating, their dark hair caught under the collar like they've raised it against the cold outside. Mike ashes his cigarette, and he watches them leaving, and he says to himself, maybe next time.