itsgonnacostyou-blog

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

His voice in the morning is deep and throaty As though even sleep is reluctant to let him go That’s when his eyes are their bluest And his skin is at its warmest My resistance to him at its smallest.

myremarkableplace (via wnq-writers)

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

“Other than the project, I had no intention of speaking to you for the rest of the year, so how I look at you shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

It might have seemed harsh to other people, but she only aimed for the truth. While she knew first impressions weren’t always accurate, his hadn’t been exactly flattering. Besides, even if she had felt forgiving after, she didn’t see the point in making some new connection with the new kid when this was her last year here, and she didn’t pin him for the type to stay in contact with old pals from school.

She thinks, for a brief moment, that maybe he understood she didn’t like to be played with under any circumstance, but the smile that spreads across his lips is all but promising. What he says next has the blood rushing to her cheeks, words stumbling out of her mouth to try to defend herself, “No, I just take my school work seriously, and — ” She cuts herself off when she realizes that his words aren’t entirely inaccurate. To avoid any further embarrassment, she keeps her mouth shut and simply narrows her eyes at him, dangerously; it seems like such a drastic change, from seemingly tolerant to potentially ready to whack him over the head with her book.

Despite her irritation, she takes some pride in the fact that she managed to get under his skin ( she already had been festering under there since the party, if she let herself acknowledge that ) when she mentioned his mother. That hadn’t been her intent, to spark undesirable feelings, but merely because she was, in fact, sympathetic. She studies him as he goes through the emotions, and it’s so fast she might have missed it, if she wasn’t observant by nature. He certainly hadn’t healed yet, and he wouldn’t if he didn’t let himself grieve properly. Squaring her shoulders, she stores the information away for later, as if gathering intel on a new thread she may have to eliminate later.

The nickname doesn’t even register at first, despite the fact that only four people called her that, and none of them were Henry.

“Oh.” Her lips shape the word perfectly; sardonically. She could ask for his number and call him later, sort out the details then, but she felt it would be easier to do it face to face — much easier to keep him from getting distracted. “How about you wait for me after school, and we can go to the town library? No ice cream allowed.” She smiled then, sickly sweet, a gleam in her eye that said she wasn’t denying the challenge but she wasn’t going to go along with it either just because he teased her. With an overly dramatic sigh, she swings her hand up to her wrist where an old watch rested, tapping her finger against the glass —

“Give me an answer in: 1, 2, 3...”

what you’re looking for | dean & annabel

“Why?” he repeated her question, fumbling for a proper response since normally people never questioned apologies, and the way her eyes bore into him with such heavy distrust and scrutiny only added to his unusual nervousness. This girl was landmine and he knew he needed to tread carefully; anything that came out of his mouth could’ve been cause for offense. “I don’t know– maybe because I don’t want you to look at me like that for the rest of the year?” The sound he made then could have passed for a light chuckle (his go-to cop out whenever things start to feel a little too intense), but it wasn’t very convincing; the hurtful truth of his statement made it rather difficult for him to really find much humor in it. He knew his reputation preceded him and while some loved him for it, there were others who avoided him as if he were a contagious disease, spreading trouble and misfortune where ever he went, and he didn’t want her to be grouped in with the latter.

Fortunately, she warmed up by a degree, offering him a name– which he recognized immediately. He might not have paid attention to politics much but he knew the mayor’s last name– only because she was the main point of discussion in his father’s conversations with his stepmother. Dean wasn’t sure why that new piece of information piqued his interest so much if it was just another reason for him to keep his distance from her but maybe that was it– what he shouldn’t want was always precisely what he wanted. 

By the time he shakes her hand, his grin has taken up nearly half his face for a list of reasons: one, she gave him a handshake (something he considered extremely formal for someone her age, but as amusing as it was, he mostly thought it was cute); two, they were assigned a project together (a clear sign that the Big G. was shining down on him for once, giving him the perfect excuse to spend time with her); and three, she just sassed him (meanness, as he had come to understand since kindergarten, was an indicator of hidden fondness). “Pleased to meet youpartner. I’m Dean Leonhard– but you probably knew that already since you clearly pay enough attention to me to notice my absence in class…” he said, not even bothering to hide how much he was enjoying this.

Her condolences weren’t expected– at least, not in that moment– and so he wasn’t prepared for the grief swelling between his ribs. He can’t be sure if she really means it or just feels obligated to say something, but he still relies on his unnatural ability to throw on masks, refusing to show any signs of discomfort. “Nothing to feel sorry about, it’s not like it was your fault,” he shrugged, trying his best to remain indifferent, but the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his strain. Just as it started to feel like he’d finally crack, his features lit up again, as if a flip of a switch was all it took to get him from one mood to the next. His way of coping with pain was the same way he coped with every other problem– by pretending it wasn’t there– and his logic was that the longer he could pretend he was fine, the easier it’d be for everyone to believe it, himself included.

“Relax, Bells. I think you underestimate what an amazing partner I’d be,” he chimed, leaning against the bookshelf with his arms crossed indignantly, but her lack of faith in him did little to diminish his excessive confidence in himself. “I’ll take this project very seriously– so seriously, in fact, that I’m even willing to ditch next period to work on said project with you… and maybe get some ice cream?” he suggested innocently, but the slight cock of his dark brow seemed to indicate that his suggestion was more of a challenge– or rather, a test to see how willing she’d be to ruffle some of her feathers, maybe even break that streak of perfect attendance that he just knew she had. “What d’you say?”

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

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[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

teen au: aisa

lmao i give up

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

( teen au )

“— just hand it over. It’s not like I’m going to eat it all myself.” Even as she said this, the sly grin that plastered on her lips said otherwise; she always had trouble resisting more than her fair share of fries.

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

“You’ll respect me because… I’m Henry’s girl?”

She’s never really understood why the boys of this school followed a stranger hierarchy of testosterone, but she wasn’t about to let herself be written off as ‘Henry’s girl.’ With a sharp breath, she finally meets his gaze and acknowledges the sincerity she sees there, knows his words — however clumsy they may be — do mean to earn her forgiveness. Even with the honesty she is faced with, even though she knows he tells the truth, she can still hear the girls that sit behind her in class giggling behind their notebooks about the latest boy in school, saying he was a reckless, wild child - not to mention all the warning her mother sent her off to school with the first week he got here.

Oh, she certainly knew enough about him to form her own opinions, to know that he was bad news, for her and her mother. ( “Just watch out for him, Annabel. His father is a sniveling, drooling piece of - sorry, dear. Just be careful.” )

She also knew that she was assigned his partner in their English class, and that he hadn’t attended very many lessons since. While she was very good at telling herself otherwise, there had been a part of her that had perked up when she first heard his being listed off, but whatever enthusiasm she may have had quickly diminished when she saw his behavior from the party wasn’t all that different from how he was sober - or, at least, that’s how everyone made it sound.

She answers his question with one of her own: “Why?” Why did he feel the need to go out of his way to apologize? Why did he seem so sincere about it? Why was he still standing there?

While she stares, her scrutiny hard and intense, she relents. “My name is Annabel Wick,” she offers her hand then, politely, though there’s a gleam in her eye that says more than it should, “And your partner for English class; you probably don’t know since you’re rarely there, or rarely conscious in said class.”

She could have done it all on her own, and she would have been fine. She could’ve told the teacher that he was a great help, that they were a team, and they never would’ve suspected a thing, but she was as honest as they come, and if he wanted a do over, she was giving him a way out.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” she offers lamely, abruptly; condolences are clearly not her thing as she’s never had to experience said loss before, but she’s heard, of course, of his misfortune. Everyone’s heard. It’s her curiosity that has her saying it, because what boy acts like this when his mother just passed? Despite her curiosity, she does feel sympathy for him, far more than she should, and it has her finally looking up to meet his gaze, to reluctantly embrace the nostalgia that fills her when she confronts those baby blues without wavering.

“I just — I want to know if you will take this seriously,” she looks away again at this point, the muscles in her neck flexing as she swallowed her nerves back down — the sort of nerves girls refer to has butterflies. “If you want a do over, then help me. If not, I can get by without you… I just need to know.”

what you’re looking for | dean & annabel

Annabeth. Annabel. He was close, but he must have offended her given how quickly she walked away, not even allowing him the time to apologize for his mistake or properly introduce himself in return. It was evident that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, and Dean couldn’t say for sure why that seemed to sting him as it did but despite all that, his feet quickly carried him to the end of the aisle and around the corner before she could make her escape. His urgency caused him to bump into her by accident. “Shit. I’m sorry.”  He began to wonder if there was anything else that could go wrong in his efforts to convince Annabel that he wasn’t as bad as she might have thought. 

What do you want?

Her question caught him off guard, or more accurately the gestures behind the question caught him off guard. Her body was closed off to him, blocked by crossed arms and a thick book while her eyes remained focused elsewhere, and he knew what she really meant to say was ‘leave me alone’. He still felt the need to gain this girl’s approval– even if she was a total stranger and even if it was obvious they’d never be more than friends–if he could even manage to get that far. Maybe it was guilt or shame over his behavior at the party that compelled him to not walk away and leave things as they were, but standing up close to her he remembered why his drunken-self had even zeroed in on her in a room full of horny teenagers to begin with. She hadn’t said a word to him, hadn’t even looked at him, and yet there was something about her that tugged him towards her. He couldn’t explain why or how; all he understood was that he wanted to find out who she was– but he couldn’t do that without first amending her impression of who he was.

Aren’t you supposed to be in detention? 

He could’ve lied and said Mr. Basille found some mercy and granted him a free pass on his first day, but Dean could tell this girl was smart enough to see past his bullshit, and lying would ruin his only chance of getting on her good side even more than if he just admitted to being an insubordinate little shit.

“Well, yeah. I am. But detention sucks and if I’m going to show up to it, I’d at least want my reason for being there to be a good one… – besides, if I hadn’t ditched I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to apologize to you,” he admitted, looking at her with complete sincerity. “I know I made myself out to be an asswipe at Preston’s party, but I was drunk and not thinking straight. And I know you probably think I’m just looking to suck your face off, but I’m really not– not because I don’t think you’re suck-face material or anything like that, of course, but ‘cause you’re Henry’s girl and I respect that…” He was terrible at apologies, but at least this one was honest, he thought. Out of nervousness, his hands slipped into his uniform pockets and he rocked on his heels, hopefully expecting her not to reject him again. “So you think we can have a do-over maybe?” 

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

With him it’s simple but with you it’s love and I still don’t know who to choose.

silver-nor-red (via wnq-writers)

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

egyptian mythology: anubis

god of embalmment and the afterlife

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

Here comes a feeling you thought you’d forgotten.

Vampire Weekend

, “Horchata,”

Album: Contra

 (via

wnq-music

)

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.

Bob Marley  (via thelovejournals)

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

by Godmachine

[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

Sometimes what needs to be said ain’t so f**kin’ pretty

Max Mundan (via wnq-writers)

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[itsgonnacostyou-blog]

a case of you; prt.1

@caskofcastello

#01 RING

He knows that be can trust her to give him the truth — clear, ringing honesty -— even if it hurts him.

#02 HERO

He is different to her because he is neither hero or monster, but something in between; he is the liberator of the oppressed with a madness that exhilarated her — he can set her on fire with just a look and she can’t get enough.

#3 MEMORY

He has no memory of his mother other than the ridicule he receives from those who question his divinity; sometimes he is glad of it, and other times he finds himself despising her for her naivety, but mostly he just misses her — but how can you miss someone you’ve never met?

#04 BOX

He thought to give her a gift once — a set of shears crafted by a eminent artisan ( they were floral print, a stark contrast to how deadly they truly were ); he keeps them in a box now, not enough courage to see her face to face after so long to give them to her, too afraid by the thought that he should even want to; he breathes out and pulls Ariadne flush to his chest as if it might help the loss he feels that he can’t explain.

#05 BREATHE

It’s the summer of 1958 and only four minutes until midnight, four minutes until she’s eighteen; she’s just a runaway, jumping into the car with a greaser five years her senior, not giving a damn for once about all the responsibility her young life has to shoulder — and he’s just a reckless man in a leather jacket, leaning her back onto the hood of his blue, 1955 T-Bird; the metal beneath her does its best to cool down her skin, but her man is stubborn ( her man, she thinks again in reverence ) and he has an uncanny ability to set her skin aflame with just a word — he does it even now, his leather jacket and all its hard zippers tickling her breasts through her dress and his hand between her thighs, spreading sin everywhere he touched until she’s twisting beneath him, shying away from the glinting stars that spy on them from above; “You’re a master-work,” he breathes, her name falling from his lips, his smile pressed into her neck; she responds with a resounding laugh, “Just shut up and kiss me.”

#06 HURRICANE

Aisa was never quick to anger before, and the fact that she screams aloud now is enough to show how much she’s changed; a hurricane of rage and distress, as if after all these years of empathy, her emotions are trying to catch up on her — the sad part is, she doesn’t even know why she is so distraught; she’s simply lost in herself.

#07 WINGS

Hermes was not a foolish man, despite what his behavior may say about him; he saw things that other people didn’t because he could go where others could not, do and say things others didn’t have the courage to do — the connoisseur of the Gods, the go-to man; it is why he sees what Dionysus does not have the nerve to acknowledge and accept: death follows him, certainly, but with it comes love that is not finite like the other lovers who once held his hand.

#08 COLD

Dionysus hears from many a mortal and many a God speak of how cold death is, and it makes him laugh — “cold to the touch, you mean,” — because he knows the difference.

#09 RED

There is no blood spilled from this death; Ariadne hangs like a doll from a string, and Dionysus weeps because it is yet another lost to him; even though she knows that it is wrong, feels his pain and wishes to comfort him, there is some satisfaction in seeing the princess gone that is more personal and deep than others she has taken, and it is only then does she begin to realize just what her presence in his life truly wrought.

#10 DRINK

She drinks him in with her eyes, drowning in him; he doesn’t offer his hand the way she wanted him to.

#11 MIDNIGHT

Ana stays up until today turns into tomorrow, remembering the way Damon touched her just moments before, the way he ran his fingers through her hair and asked why she stayed, why she bothered; she remembers how she didn’t have an answer — at least, not then — “because I love you, ye’ silly bastard.”

#12 TEMPTATION

He watches her flicker around the fire like a wisp of smoke, there and yet not there; the moon illuminates her skin to silver, highlighting every curve, every sweeping mound of her body and — not even the wine can keep his mouth from being so dry.

#12 VIEW

“Will you stop — ” Dionysus shoves on thick, purple robes with aggravation, “ — devouring me with your eyes —”

“ —I didn’t know you had hair down — ”

“Don’t. Don’t even say it.”

#14 MUSIC

He is so very glad the music has started otherwise he is certain she could hear how fast his heart was beating even though they were on opposite sides of the room.

#15 silk

His fingers glide along her skin like he is touching silk, but even as a lover of fine, materialistic thing, he comes to the conclusion quite suddenly that she is far better than any silk he’s ever touched — it doesn’t sigh his name the way she did whenever he grazed with a touch.

#16 cover

Annabel has never been sick once in her life, so it comes as no surprise that her mother panics and keeps her home, the very day that her English class would be handing out information on their next project; she panics, as she often does when something is not in her control, and texts Dean in the hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d been in class today long enough for him to catch the assignment;

“ — don’t worry, i got you covered — ��

he shows up an hour later, an hour after the class ended, and he’s climbing over her windowsill and tucking the paper beside her; she hates to admit that she cried when she saw him.

#17 promise

“You have to have what mortals call ’a little faith’ — ”

“ — I can’t — I don’t know if - ”

“ — can’t or won’t?”

“ — Dion —  ”

“ —we’ll meet again, Aisa. I swear on your pretty head..”

#18 dream

It doesn’t feel real when he touches her; it is surreal, ephemeral, and sometimes she grips him too tight to make sure he’s still there.

#19 candle

The wax burns her hands when it spills, forming hard and warm once it settled on her skin; she heard him shuffle behind her, barely a hairs breath away, and he says, “Aisa, I had no idea you were into such kinky foreplay — ”

— she laughs.

#20 talent

Perhaps she is biased or just inexperienced, but the way he curls his fingers inside her, working her fervently into madness, has her thinking he has a gift Clotho forgot to mention to her when she spun him up —

then again, knowing her sister might be the reason she’s crying out his name right now isn’t something she should conjure in her mind when his fingers deftly play her like a violin.

#21 silence

It’s moments like this when Dion simply holds her, that she can forget the disquiet of her mind.

#22 journey

He’s traveled so far and for so long, he almost forgot how it felt to stay in one place, with one person, long enough to feel safe.

#23 fire

He holds her like embers in his hand, stoking each lick of the flame until she’s burning from his touch; she grabs his wrist, guides him where she aches, but he’s persistent on prolonging the light he sparks in her, and it isn’t long until she’s flickering, holding on to him the way fire holds to wood, clutched around his hand and wailing his name.

#24 strength

It’s such a simple thing, but when she hears the satisfying pop of the grape jelly jar beneath Dean’s hand that she’s been trying to open for the past four minutes, she can’t keep the stupid smile from her face.

#25 mask

It’s the first showing of the play, and despite her display of bravado, she’s nervous; Dean’s there too, of course, but with a mask he took off the shelf — old, ridiculously silly — and for a moment she forgets her nerves and laughs, laughs until she has to grab her side and suck in air; she doesn’t miss the way his eyes soften, or the smile he shows only for her.