𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚄𝚁𝙴;

WHO  AM  I?  doe,  21,  she/they. WHERE CAN I FIND YOU? ​ @nuptia, @iravide, discord available upon request. WHERE CAN I FIND OUT MORE? google doc. interest tracker. MUSE  LIST?   below  the  cut.

    A  KIND  HEARTED  MAN  was  something  cassie  had  never  heard  anyone  breathe  of  tony   -     not  even  michelle,   who  seemingly  loved  tony  with  her  whole   heart.    but  where  an  illusion  is  presented,   cassie  will indulge    (   …   )   FOR  NOW.        ‘   your  rumours  must  be  different  from  mine,   then  !   ‘     a  light  laugh  tilts  her  head  back,   feet  nearly  tripping  over  themselves  as  she  steps  upon  cobblestone  streets.      a  teasing  smile  settles  on  her  lips,     leaning  into  his  touch  even  more   –    [    IT  FELT  NICE  TO  BE  WANTED  ]  .          ‘    bargain  bin  flowers  sound  lovely  !     no  chocolates,   right?   ‘      smile  doesn’t  even  falter  at  the  thought  of  food,    not  now  -     not  when   she  feels  so  light  and  beautiful  in  the  arms  of  someone  new.  

OC DROP, BIOGRAPHY AVAILABLE BELOW THE CUT. to summarise : reign was part of a popstar duo, but was clearly less talented, so she was demoted to being a songwriter. her life turns from bad to worse and she destroys the popstar that dethroned her. THIS ALSO DOUBLES AS A STARTER CALL : like this and i’ll write you up something from her.

          sometimes the taste of friendship is still foreign on the tongue of riz gukgak.  between the blood that he can’t quite wash from his mouth and the aching of his chest  ( tight and restricting, the non - comfort of untimely death ), it’s so easy to find himself trapped between the before and the now:  black - cat paranoia seeming to poison every good thing he tries to preserve.  work was meant to remedy this, distract the buzzing anxiety while the scalding - hot of every coffee mug drowned and burned it.  he knows that it was self - sabotage, burying himself in manila folders full of dead ends and thread - thin clues as opposed to indulging in any form of relaxation.

          over the past couple of weeks, he has grown accustomed to focusing on red lines and blurred photos under dim lamp - light, eyes adjusted to his small, dark office, shades closed no matter the hour.  it’s not how anyone should spend the beginning of their summer vacation, perhaps, but if the last two years have been any sort of indicator, there is very little normal about riz and what he chooses to do compared to his peers.  until today, the sun has been an otherwise stranger to him, and as he sits directly underneath it  ( legs restless, and he thinks he’s over - heating, yet he manages to keep still )  he kind of wishes that he was back in that room.

          maybe it was the guilt of holing himself away and neglecting rationality  ( you have friends, riz, people you can trust and rely on, you don’t need to try and be so lonely all the time )  that dragged him out here, or maybe it was because he was momentarily convinced that someone was literally dying, but digressing, the uncertainty that bites and gnaws at him refuses to ease.  while he sits stiffly by fabian in fact, watching with regrettably only vague interest, he wonders what the hell it is that’s happening.  why he’s here, how he got here, why fabian of all people bothers.

          ( riz trusts him.  riz trusts him a lot, and he’s not entirely sure what it would take to break that faith.  even with everything, all the deceit and the scheming of their peers, and the whisker - twitching whispering to trust no one and nothing, he looks at him and sees nothing but honesty.  it only makes the shame worse, the doubt and questioning of their friendship.   )

          “   i wanna point out that you said there was an emergency,   ”     riz says to fabian flatly when he can finally find the strength to speak, ears flattening slightly.  he does not address the seacaster with any sense of irritation  —  it’s hard, he’s long since realized, to be cross with him for longer than a few minutes.  cocking his head, he adds, motioning towards fabian’s rapier,     “   can i be honest, fabian?  it kinda looks like you just needed someone to show - off to.   ”

sometimes the taste of friendship is still foreign on the tongue of fabian aramaris seacaster ( the happy son of the famed bill seacaster, a legacy kept whole inside of a boy ). fabian had collected friendships like other boys collected precious stones and [ ... ] well, whatever else that normal children supposedly did --- what, he was supposed to pay attention to every sticky - handed, bleeding - mouthed child? certainly not! they had been jewels to him, certainly; pieces to look at, to hold within your hands and cherish in an indifferent, cold sort of way [ oh, sure, he’d have friends --- thousands of them, names jotted into notebooks to keep track, pretending they meant anything to him ]. friends, his father’s crew, they had been friends. the people who worked at the house, yes, they were friends. none his own age, of course, but what did that matter? FABIAN SEACASTER HAD FRIENDS BEFORE THE BAD KIDS.

( ... ) those friendships had just looked different to the ones he had now. the one he had with riz --- yes, yes, he’ll admit it [ privately, in his own mind ]. he had somehow, rather embarrassingly, befriended riz gurgak. ONE MIGHT EVEN CALL THEM BEST FRIENDS. fabian wouldn’t, of course; not until riz finally found the courage to gift him the other half of that friendship necklace he wore. but someone else might --- someone far less intelligent and insightful than fabian ( in answer to the question of why he was here, since you’re all so interested, it was boredom --- nothing more than that ). he’d missed the ball doting in that little way he did, all wide-eyes and impressed glee spilling forth --- worry? pssh! fabian had better things to do than worry over some glass - eating goblin [ fabian trusts him. fabian trusts him a lot. and he shows that by being here, by showing up, worry stretched thin across his elegant features ].

“  scrambled  okay ?  ”      the  eggs  are  sitting  out  on  the  kitchen  island  and  she’s  wearing  the  nightgown  he  bought  her  for  christmas,      three  years  ago.      manipulative  fucking  bitch !      (  he  knows  now,  that  she’s  crazy.      but  he’s  always  known  she  looked  good  in  silk.      she’s  trying  to  make  him  forget  the  former  by  reminding  him  of  the  latter,      he’s  sure.      GOOD  FUCKING  LUCK,      AMY !  )  

@undure​  ! 

HE  DIDN’T  MEAN  A  FUCKING  THING  HE  SAID   :       all  of  america’s  eyes  had  been  on  him,    tearing  apart  the  man  of  a  thousand  lies       (       for  once,    you  will  tell  the  truth,   nick  dunne       ---       THIS  IS  YOUR  REPENTANCE       )       and  he’d  still  managed  to  trick  his  way  back  into  their  hearts.       back  into  my  heart.       what,    that  wasn’t  the  real  nick?       screw  him!      (        ...        )       i  have  never  been  the  real  amy  around  him,    malice  -  tongued  and  a  size  two  and  so  down  for  eating  hot  dogs  for  every  fucking  meal       ;       he  doesn’t  deserve  to  be  the  real  nick       [        he  will  be  the  man  i  want  him  to  be  or  he’ll  be  thrown  to  the  wolves  again       ].       he  will  be  the  man  i  deserve  to  be  married  to   :       A  MAN  WHO  REMEMBERS  MY  BIRTHDAY,    WHO  BUYS  ME  FLOWERS  WHEN  I’M  SAD,   WHO  DOESN’T  FUCK  SOME  GODDAMN  COLLEGE  BITCH.

STARTER:   @undure​   /   mother’s milk.

                  “   me ?   ”   he   repeats   in   shock.   “   i   don’t   —   i   -   ”   his   voice   is   lost   as   she   continues   to   speak.   he’s   trying   to   concentrate   ,   follow   the   words   leaving   her   lips   ,   but   there’s   a   competitionfor   his   attention   :   voices   overlapping   one   another   until   it   creates   an   amalgamation   of   whispers.   a   wince   ,   fingers   going   to   his   lips.                   [   we   can’t   TRUSTher   ,   can’t   lower   our   guard.   she’s   waiting   ,   waiting   …   ]   (   calm   down   ,   we   don’t   know   anything   yet.   just   let   her   talk   ,   see   what   she   has   to   say.   )   [   are   you   SERIOUS ?   she’s   evil   ,   she’s   —   ]                “   quiet !   i’m   talking.   ”   he   whispers   ,   although   his   voice   is   firm.   quickly   ,   he   brings   his   attention   back   to   the   woman   ,   giving   an   uneasy   smile.   “   no   ,   uh   ,   i   -   i’m   okay.   ”   another   glance   around   the   office.   “   i’m   sorry   —   do   you   think   that   …   that   i   h   -   have   powers ?   ”   he   leans   forward   again.   “   because   if   that’s   the   case   this   is   a   -   a   really   big   misunderstanding.   ”   [   why   are   you   LYING ?   you   KNOWthe   truth.  you   know   ,   deep   down   ,   that   it’s   not   all   in   your   head.   ]   (   the   truth   is   ,   david   is   a   very   sick   young   man.   )   [   LIAR.   LIAR.  ]

MADELYN’S  SMILE  IS  A  FOUNTAIN  OF  ENDLESS  PATIENCE   :       a  come  here  gesture  branded  upon  her  lips,    a  soft  welcoming  where  a  face  should  lay       [       i  control  the  fucking  homelander       ---       no  one  is  beyond  me!       ].       QUIET!       his  attention  is  turned  towards  someone  else,    something  else,    a  voice  that  seemed  less  kind  that  madelyn’s  fond  twang       (       FONDNESS  WAS  THE  EASIEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD  TO  FAKE       ).       interesting       ---       a  new  piece  of  information  to  file  away,     neatly  coded  as  david’s  quirks       [       what  makes  this  young  man  tick?       how  do  i  break  him  open?       ].