Velvetysage - Are You Going To Scarborough Fair?

hi, i love dynamics that r like “we make each other worse” on the surface but when u look deeper it is actually just “we understand each other on a level that no one else does and nudge each other out of our typical comfort zone” which just circles around to “we make each other better”. it’s abt the accidental growth just by being in each other’s lives. idk

céleste’s smirk lingered, amusement flickering behind her gaze. he was quick. smooth. predictable in some ways, but in others? not at all. his confidence wasn’t new to her — the men she had been around in her life had lived and breathed it. but the way he wore it, like a second skin rather than something performative, that was what made him stand out compared to all the rest. "i will be impressed if you last the entire session without needing a break." a beat. her gaze swept over him, like she was already calculating his limits before they’d even started. “not to worry .. it is after all also my job to make sure you don’t push yourself too much. or at least not to a point where you never want to book another session. as he squared his shoulders, slipping back into his usual self-assured posture, she took a step back from the window. "coach?" she arched a brow, amusement playing at the corners of her lips. "i may not do pep talks and participation trophies. but let it be known, i’m not one to take it easy." she let the words settle between them, her gaze unwavering, "i train hard." her voice was calm, steady, but there was something else beneath it — a quiet challenge, an unspoken dare.  she reached for her phone to check the time. " but we’ll start easy. now, show me the way to the gym.." a deliberate pause, just long enough for him to register that she wasn’t actually planning to start easy at all. "unless, of course, you’d prefer to keep standing there, looking pretty, and wasting time." she tilted her head slightly. "your call, jameson."

insufferable. the word dripped from her lips like something honeyed, meant to stain, but he let it seep, wearing it like a second skin. it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, but coming from her? well. he almost wanted to hear it again. cerulean hues moved to where she’d set the bottle down, noting the control she seemed to possess with every small action she took. alec wondered how much of it was habit and how much was defense. either way, he wasn’t in a hurry to figure it out. "exhausting myself trying to impress people has never been my style," he replied lazily. "but placing my energy elsewhere? guess we’ll see how much of that energy i have left by the time you’re done with me." his smirk deepened, but there was an undercurrent beneath it. one part amusement, one part something else entirely. whatever game they were playing, she was keeping up, maybe even a step ahead, and that was rare. but for now, he reminded himself that she was here to work. he straightened his posture, stretching out his arms before rolling his shoulders back, his expression slipping back into something cocky, self-assured. "alright, coach," alec began, "are you going to keep staring at me, or are we starting this session?"

PUBLIC COMMISSION — by clicking on the source link you will find a page with 501 gifs, all made from scratch by myself, of joe keery in interviews. joe is white and is currently 32 years old. i don’t care what you do with these, just don’t be gross and don’t claim them as your own. if using these, give this post a reblog. thank you !

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for a long moment, penny doesn’t move. she just stares. at the sheer audacity of drew standing there , draped in borrowed clothes that don’t fit , wearing that same infuriating grin — like she hasn’t been missing for two weeks. like she hasn’t left penny to spiral , to wonder, to reach for a silence that never broke. her heart is still hammering against her ribs , the remnants of panic still thick in her bloodstream , fourteen days of unanswered questions pressing down on her like a weight she can’t shake. and then drew starts talking — rambling , deflecting , making jokes about flounder and burner phones , like this is just another one of her reckless disappearances. like penny hasn’t been tearing herself apart over where she was , if she was even alive, and suddenly something inside her snaps. a sharp , humorless laugh punches out of her , brittle at the edges. "are you — are you fucking kidding me ?" her voice is quiet , but there’s something dangerous beneath it , something raw and frayed. two weeks. two weeks of radio silence, of checking her phone every five minutes , of knocking on doors and getting nothing but shrugs , and now she just waltzes in — grinning , joking , like it’s all some game ? penny moves before she even thinks , grabbing the nearest throw pillow and launching it at her. not hard. not enough to hurt. but something — because if she doesn’t , she might actually scream. "you — " she stops , jaw locking , fists curled at her sides. "you absolute fucking — " another sharp inhale , her breath unsteady , her entire body tight with the effort of keeping herself from completely unraveling. "do you have any idea — any fucking idea — what the past two weeks have been like ? you couldn’t have just — texted ? called ? hell , sent a fucking carrier pigeon ?" she’s breathing too fast. she knows it. feels the way her hands are shaking , the way her chest is rising and falling too sharply. she knows she’s letting the panic and frustration bleed through , but she can’t shove it down. not when drew is just sitting there , completely unbothered , sniffing her vanilla candle like she didn’t just disappear without a trace. penny presses the heels of her hands against her eyes , turning on her heel and striding into the kitchen before she does something she won’t recover from. because she knows drew. knows this is her coping mechanism — acting like nothing is wrong , like she hasn’t just put everyone who gives a shit about her through hell. and maybe , once upon a time, penny would’ve let herself be distracted by the theatrics. would’ve let the relief of drew simply being here outweigh the hurt. but she’s seen this routine one too many times to fall for it now. she grips the counter , sucking in slow , steadying breaths. if she says something now , she will regret it. because part of her , beneath all the frustration , wants to burst into tears — because drew is alive , because she’s standing in front of her , because penny doesn’t have to wonder if she’s lost her forever. after a few seconds , she forces herself to move. forces herself to walk back into the room , stopping in the doorway , leaning against the frame like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. her voice is quieter now , but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it. "are you going to tell me what happened," she says , gaze steady , expression unreadable , "or do you just want to pretend everything is fine ? because i may be a good actress, drew, but i don’t think i can do that."

was it odd to say that abandoning her sense of self entirely gave her a new lease on life? plato didn't know shit about throwing his phone into the river. not to mention socrates had never experienced the thrill of pulling off a smooth drug deal on the busy city street. as far as drew was concerned, karl marx could suck the silicone dick that was slickened and stowed in her night stand. everywhere she went, flippant burner phone in hand, the blonde swore she could hear fly like an eagle beating in time with her steps. not a single care in the universe stopping her -- letting her spirit carry her from port to port. was this a mental breakdown of the most epic proportions? perhaps. for now - her metaphorical and quite literal high was impenetrable. and she had the steve miller band and parker to thank for that. when she'd told her roommates she'd abandoned her business with minimal explanation, drew had yet to answer the most critical questions. not even to herself. why? are you doing okay? the queries needed to be avoided. there was no space for concern in her hands-off approach to living. so it was natural to bolt. from her roommates, from penny. the fourth floor apartment hadn't seen her in days. she mostly opted for crashing on parker's couch. it made her hoodlum schedule a continuous affair. it made it easier to abandon any sort of guilt or critical thought about her decisions. but drew had caught wind of penny's concerns since her show stopping disappearance after opening night. the flowers adorned by the blonde at the stage door were the last tulips that drew had touched. and now, as the creative desire bubbled to the surface once more, so did her urge to see penny. she never dropped her key. a silent protest, a grandiose act of love, whatever you wanted to call it -- it was an excuse for drew to silently break in to surprise her. of course. the anxiety riddled star is edging tears, lump in her throat touching drew from where she stands by the front door. and she hears every word. but the eagle doesn't falter. "surprise, shaaaawty." the blonde calls out theatrically as she enters the space. her nomadic wardrobe is likely a testament to her mental state. parker's flannel that wouldn't button over her breasts even with one of those maternal stretch bands, a white bandeau top that has seen better days, a pair of inez's leggings that showcase some tasteful ankle on her too long legs, but still the same electric drew smile. "didn't i tell you? phone in the river? hope you didn't send me a nude because if you did, flounder definitely saw it." she plops down at the counter and sniffs at the lit candle, likely placed there to calm penny's nerves. her nose wrinkles at the soft vanilla scent. "is flounder a girl? like i know sebastian is a jamaican dude. like the cinnamon apple jax guy. but -- flounder? i never really knew. because if he's a bro-fish, he might like totally be into that."

okay  friends  ,  i  am  finally  trying  to  get  started  here  on  indie  after  quite  a  few  years  of  being  off  the  indie  scene.  but  i  am  honestly  thrilled  to  get  back  into  the  swing  of  things.  as  said  ,  it's  taken  me  quite  some  time  to  get  started  and  these  days  i  barely  know  how  to  get  started  again  ——  that  being  said  …  consider  this  a  PLOTTING  CALL  !  !  !  !  !  !

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   sooooo  ,  if  you  would  possibly  be  interested  in  writing  together  —  like  this  and  i  will  contact  to  potentially  write  together.  ♥

Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

there is nothing sexier than when the energy matched