The Sound Of Racked Weights Met Her Before She Even Stepped Fully Into The Room. And Then — There He

geraldine viswanathan via instagram

okay  .  .  .  catch  me  actually  working  on  my  proper  muses  page  tonight  and  hopefully  posting  and  replying  to  some  open  starters  !  !  !

DAISY EDGAR-JONES via Instagram

riley's  heart  skipped  a  beat  as  she  collided  with  the  guy,  the  impact  knocking  the  breath  out  of  her  as  his  water  tumbler  soared  through  the  air,  followed  by  what  could  only  be  described  as  a  moment  of  complete  and  utter  chaos.  her  coffee  cup  wobbled  dangerously  in  her  hand,  and  for  a  second,  she  thought  it  was  going  to  spill  all  over  her.  but  nope,  she  somehow  managed  to  keep  it  upright,  which  was  a  small  victory  in  itself.  she  glanced  at  the  tumbler  —  now  rolling  across  the  floor  —  and  immediately  felt  a  wave  of  mortification.  “oh,  god,  i’m  so  sorry,”  she  blurted,  instinctively  reaching  out  to  steady  herself,  though  she  couldn’t  quite  tell  if  she  was  apologizing  for  the  collision  or  the  aftermath  of  water  flying  everywhere.  when  she  looked  up,  the  guy  was  grinning  at  her,  a  teasing  smile  on  his  lips  that  somehow  disarmed  her  frustration.  he  wasn’t  angry  —  no,  he  was... amused.  great.  that  made  her  feel so  much  better.  she  ran  a  hand  through  her  hair,  trying  to  regain  some  shred  of  composure,  though  it  didn’t  help  at  all.  “i  swear,  i’m  usually  way  more  coordinated  than  this,”  she  said.  her  eyes  flicked  to  the  machine,  which  had  now  become  the  object  of  her  absolute  disdain.  "i’m  definitely  not  here  to  fix  it,  sorry  to  bring  you  even  more  tragedy,”  she  added,  nodding  toward  the  malfunctioning  snack  dispenser  like  it  was  the  source  of  all  her  current  embarrassment.  she  took  a  deep  breath  and  then  gave  him  a  half-smile.  "i  usually  just  do  this..”  which  was then  followed  by  her  kicking  the  machine  enough  to  give  it  a  bit  of  a  shake,  hoping  that  it  would  work  in  her  favor. 

♡ → closed starter delivery for @velvetysage

he was in the middle of a very serious negotiation with the lobby vending machine when someone collided into him at full speed, sending his water tumbler flying ( and his dignity ) right along with it. "jesus—" felix started, but then he turned to face them - wide eyes, out-of-breath, clutching a coffee cup like it was a lifeline - and, well, he wasn't exactly mad anymore. "you always body-check strangers or am i just special?" he teased, stepping back just enough to get a better look. they were flustered, clearly in a rush, but there was a certain electric aura, like they could talk their way in or out of anything if given five uninterrupted minutes. "please tell me you're here to fix this thing," he nodded at the vending machine, "because i'm one lost snack away from a full breakdown."

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."

molly gordon via instagram

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

♡ COOPER KOCH the kelly clarkson show

i   have   started   forming   my   muses   page   at   last    .   .   .   i   still   have   more   to   add   on   -   but   the   list   is   here.   taken   me   some   time,   but   i   am   excited   to   finally   get   started   back   on   indie   !!   slow   &   steady   .   .   .