i made a new blog for lance : ^)
———- & ( you were ) ashen lungs & brittle bones, steel chain to iron bar, a prayer to the skies that you may be granted wings made from hope instead of wax. & ( you are ) a flickering ember, a cry you’ve strangled yourself, a promise made, broken, betrayed. & ( you will be ) pheonix fire, a boy reborn, a swansong swallowed down hard so that voice may be used to laugh instead ; you were, you are, you will be a life worth living. [ personals do not reblog / written by stevie ]
❛ if you ain’t scared , you ain’t human . ❜ ❛ be careful . don’t die . ❜ ❛ it’s kind of hard to ask a dead guy what he did wrong . ❜ ❛ just follow me & run like your life depends on it . because it does . ❜ ❛ you get lazy , you get sad . start givin’ up . ❜ ❛ great , we’re all bloody inspired . ❜ ❛ you’re sweet . i really hope we/i don’t end up killing you , at least . ❜ ❛ WICKED is good . ❜ ❛ kill me ! if you have ever been my friend , kill me . ❜ ❛ we did this to them . to us . ❜ ❛ i’m tougher than nails . i could still kick your pony-loving butt with twice this pain . ❜ ❛ that’s called hypocrisy , you piece of — ! ❜ ❛ i just … feel like i need to save everyone . ❜ ❛ go ahead & die with ____ . i think i’ll sneak away & enjoy living with the guilt . ❜ ❛ man , you are one butt-load of sunshine , let me tell you . ❜ ❛ dude , you tried to slice my-you-know-what’s off ! ❜ ❛ thank you for being my friend . ❜ ❛ i’m pretty sure you need a girl’s brain running the show . ❜ ❛ that’s not how it works around here , & our whole existence depends on things working . ❜ ❛ that’s just my way of saying i would’ve killed you if you died . ❜ ❛ ah , my knight in shining armor . what , you don’t think i can fend for myself ? ❜ ❛ you’re disgusting when you eat . it’s like watching a starving pig . ❜ ❛ you’re hurting more than helping . ❜ ❛ guess he forgot the little part about me kicking him in the groin . ❜ ❛ you’d think the little part apart them supposedly killing us would be the attention getter . ❜ ❛ you wanna cry all day about what’s happened , fine . but that’s not what a leader does . a leader figures out where to go & what to do after that’s done . ❜ ❛ i do love ponies . wish i could eat one right now . ❜ ❛ i’m slowly going crazy. i keep wanting to chew off my own fingers & randomly kill people . ❜ ❛ thanks for stating the obvious , ____ . ❜ ❛ maybe we were lovers . ❜ ❛ the sight of you makes me sick . ❜ ❛ if you’re looking for a goodnight kiss , forget it . ❜ ❛ order . last thing we need is you screwin’ that up . ❜ ❛ am i … replacing someone ? did somebody get killed ? ❜ ❛ i think we just should a break , fill our little tummies & drink up . ❜ ❛ why’re _____ looking at each other like you’ve fell in love ? ❜ ❛ sometimes i wonder if being alive matters . if being dead might be a lot easier . ❜ ❛ if i don’t see you on the other side , remember that i love you . ❜ ❛ false hope . guess that’s better than no hope at all . ❜ ❛ i don’t think there’s a right or wrong anymore . just a horrible & not-quite-so-horrible . ❜ ❛ old life’s over , new life’s begun . ❜ ❛ everything crushed in on me at once . sure made me feel better . don’t feel bad about crying . ever . ❜ ❛ he shot me . ❜ ❛ you won’t figure out anything if you give in to fear . ❜ ❛ i felt her / his / their absence . it was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth . you wouldn’t need to run to the mirror to know they were gone . ❜ ❛ saving you was worth losing what we might’ve had . ❜ ❛ you’re the kind of glue that holds us together . ❜ ❛ if you want to throw me in jail for trying to save someone’s life , then go ahead . next time i promise i’ll point at them & laugh . ❜ ❛ such a display of death — how could it be considered a victory ? ❜
@eclipsence·
❛ Lance. ❜ Tone is casual, calm, meant only to gather attention —– which she has, she assumes, from the sound of a jacket zipper tinkling no doubt in turn with the motion of his body and she smiles, slightly, the expression that currently resides upon her visage could only be described as soft. ❛ That’s your name, right? Our resident blue paladin? ❜ She’s sure he’ll do a good job, but it does little to replace the ache of loss. ❛ I can already tell you like talking about yourself —– why don’t you tell me what you look like? ❜
❝ Lance’s the name, alright. ❞
A confusion burrows in his thoughts, & yet questions would lead to a mask of STUPIDITY & he must keep up ‘appearances’. He speaks not the inquiries that permeate his mind, instead tossing forth a charade of his expected character. To keep up with expectations, to never let anyone down, he works hard to preserve these qualities.
❝ How about we start off with how you’re looking -- ❞
❛ Aha ~ Don’t tell me your trigger finger is stuck? Or maybe… an equipment malfunction? ❜ & so the mouse has caught the cat ( as though he were ever the prey —— CHESS MATCH ended long ago, whispered CHECK the moment paladin’s task had been assigned ) with knowing smile, relaxed stare. ❛ If it won’t work, you might as well just lower it, right? We should just talk instead. ❜ He blinks; door slams shut behind Lance’s person, locked tight —— it would be unfortunate if any of his friends wished to interrupt.
[ WELCOME, CUB, TO THE LION’S DEN ]
SILENCE whispers against his teeth, fear dissolving into his fingertips & steady hold comes with no sense of ease. Teeth find no solace locked so tightly against one another, but still they are searching for the comfort of each other -- the comfort Lance will not know in this moment. He is alone, no savior to announce their heroics & bring him back to his feet if he so happens to fall over. FAILURE knows no MERCY. ( ‘ Watch your back. ‘ ) they tell him. One wrong step, & you’re out.
Weapon is lowered, held with one hand, & propped into the other. The answer knows no transparency -- he is left to TRUST as his guide.
❝ What are you doing here... ?
I thought this place was supposed to be empty. ❞
❝ Good heavens! ❞ AND SHE’S PANICKING, fretting over the injury the person before her has. fingers reach for bandages, cleaning solutions, anything else she could do to tend to the wound. ❝ What happened? Are you hurt anywhere else? ❞
❝ This thing ? Psh, no way, you’re totally--
-- hey, do I know you ? ❞
Arm’s pulse beats against his flesh, reminding him of the crimson leakage, the stinging burn that drapes him in a state of discomfort & yet he still PLAYS. He plays his part, his role, & offers no further comment on situation’s happening. Never would he worry another through purposeful intent.
if i believe you // the 1975
in the beginning it was just a game of tag
when the reality of war shatters Lance’s perceptions of his role in this world.
Please open in new tabs or windows for better viewing :)
❛ Heh – try to keep up. ❜ Is the response given with teasing, challenging smirk. He wastes no time in reaching into low branches, foot pressing against wood, fingers curling about bark; the motion is fluid, quick —- graceful, in fact, body familiar with the act of leaping, climbing, as he hoists himself up into a web of twigs & leaves, reaching up and up and up… He doesn’t wait for Lance, does not even look back ( he’ll follow, Keith knows; to check would be pointless ) as fingers reach higher, pulling body upward as he chases the glow of a setting sun, chases clouds & the oncoming moon, starlight not yet present and he smiles with the feeling of the wind licking at face, tugging at jacket; fresh air, it would seem, is just what he’s been needing.
❛ Whoever loses has to carry the bags the rest of the way. ❜ He adds only now, of course, a small penalty to whomever fails to make the climb in the quickest of manners —– he doubts Lance will object, seemingly always open to challenges and bets.
❝ Hey Keith, what was that...?
Smells a lot like... FAILURE. ❞
& fingers entangle with branches, swift movements hoisting further & further toward the sky that towers over them with such humbled ease -- if only HE could be the sky, honest, vast, whole. He watches Keith above him, gliding gracefully through greens & browns, so fluid in his advancement. Distracting, beautiful, & he realizes that he can never BE the sky, because that’s him, Keith. It’s position is already taken, & he -- whack. He should really pay more attention. He’s dizzy as he finds position against nearest branch as soon as possible, but not before howling a very distinct “OW?!” into the infinite leaves, falling with every motion they make. If even NATURE betrays him, he’s unsure of what he truly has left.
❝ Keeiiith ?! Wait up, dude !
Gimme a second ! ❞
———- & ( you were ) ashen lungs & brittle bones, steel chain to iron bar, a prayer to the skies that you may be granted wings made from hope instead of wax. & ( you are ) a flickering ember, a cry you’ve strangled yourself, a promise made, broken, betrayed. & ( you will be ) pheonix fire, a boy reborn, a swansong swallowed down hard so that voice may be used to laugh instead ; you were, you are, you will be a life worth living. [ personals do not reblog / written by stevie ]
IT PAINS HIM, KNOWING he is the cause of each wavering syllable, each ripple that distorts well intentioned query; he swallows, hard, saliva burning on the way down ( ‘ good ‘ he thinks —- ‘ a penalty for your cruelty ‘ ) and he is silent a moment, contemplating what to do. Even should he manage to keep this foul secret from Lance, the others know —– not the details but that something is amiss, and already he can see them ———- the look in Shiro and Allura’s eyes, the tone Hunk and Pidge’s words will adorn… Coran’s well-meaning everything ———- & oh god, he swears a knife to the gut ( twist, rip ) would hurt less than this.
THERE’S NO ESCAPE, HE realizes, ( can it truly be called a realization if it is something you already knew ? ) and lips quiver, hands shake; ‘ you don’t have to tell him right now ‘ he knows this, repeats it to himself internally in a masochistic mantra, knowing fully well that to follow such advice would only be to prolong suffering, to raise more suspicion among those he considers family, to increase the risk of permanent rift between him & them —– and yet still does he consider it, feeling heavy with its weight.
❛ …Do you trust me? ❜ It’s not an answer but another question, another thing that Lance hardly deserves & yet is bestowed upon him all the same. Anxiously does he await the response, knowing what he wishes to hear and what he should hear are two entirely different answers; his body is a catacomb of lies & secrets, buried ‘neath cobwebs & dust and Lance sits in purity, truth, an open book of a boy —— ( have you ever heard the tale of the moon & sun ? how the sun, beautiful & bright, laughs as they are unknowingly chased by the moon & all its imperfections ? ) —— & everything Keith has no business sullying with such decript hands.
A question, a question, an answer (?) with a question. He is not clueless, for he knows that with a response so indirect that the answer to his own is NO. He is not alright, & he will not say it. Lance knows this language as if it were of his own creation, so fluent, so experienced in its art. Palms drip with anticipation, toes curled beneath his boots. Answer him. Give him something. Wounded by worry & taunted with torturous naivety -- what will he learn if he is never taught ? Stress grows as the monster who feeds only upon himself, weakening, strengthening, a constant battle of what is right & what is wrong, who he is & what he deserves. Not this, he convinces himself. Yet, he knows he is selfish, for who is he to know what it is that he is deserving of? Who is he to extract Keith from this question & assume him a right state of being.
Troubled, locked away, & broken: this is the friend that ties himself to the ground in FEAR of what he, Lance, the selfish, arrogant, & knowingly so, ‘friend’ may think. Perhaps ‘friend’ is but an UNDERSTATEMENT. Friends do not think of themselves before those in whom they hold so dearly.
A QUESTION OF TRUST, perhaps this is what it boils down to. Trust, the very roots of any sprout of relationship -- without trust, there is nothing: these are his beliefs. Through this question he must remind himself of the agonizing insecurity that may be spiraling through Keith’s mind, he must put himself in his place, despite how difficult a task it may prove. Now is no time to become so self-concerned, to become so OFFENDED by inquiry proven so eager for reassurance. He may hold unsteady in friendship’s title, proving so ROTTEN from within, yet he holds an understanding & he TRIES. He brings about a broken honesty in his voice, a question of whether this is truly a question, & he answers.
❝ If I didn’t trust you... I wouldn’t even be here. ❞
For without a root’s existence, it cannot manifest into being.
plotting call ✧
always the actor never the audience. EYES to watch his move as muscles curled with strain, up and down his hand would go, the WEIGHT in steeled grip in his hand – no mind to it, however, as his ATTENTION was pulled over to the set of eyes watching him with fascination ( his own RECENT awkward disposition making him more aware of what he was doing. ) but still, familiar smiles of charmed pleasures twitched along FEATURES dabbed in sweat, eyebrow raised as he stopped only to lean on his knees. ❛ you mind spotting me for a second? ❜
// @eclipsence
❝ You got it, Shiro. ❞
PRIDE is his garment & he wears it unexposed to those among him. Peers will not know of the vulnerability that refuses unveiling. He stands, ignorant to word’s meaning, living life as a mere game of PRETEND. ‘Fake it till you make it,’ they’d tell him, & it’s tarnished into his brain. ( Do not let others know of the deceit you spill through such white lies, but do not let them know your unlearned truths. Your fear of DISAPPOINTMENT is crippling. ) & so he stands, arms crossed in a pretentious display, feet spread shoulder width, & he GUESSES he is correct until directed otherwise.
Kisses the bf on the cheek
Gentle, gentle, lips press against your cheek & JOY grips mouth’s corners, forcing them upward into a dorky grin, unstoppable. Unexpected, surprise leaves him discombobulated, puzzled, yet a piece of him rings with knowledge, understanding, fighting against that which struggles to comprehend. Vulnerable – mind has lost the strength in its disorganization & he collapses to vulnerability’s feet, weak, unstable. Yet, still, he stands, hands gripped, shoved in each pocket of cardigan’s stitching.
He cannot help but watch after notice is taken of another’s arrival, another’s affectionate display (for it is not so often in which these situations do occur) & Lance is overtaken by what he feels, yet striving further from embarrassment’s creation.
Arm stretches forth, fingers releasing from fabric prison and grasping about Keith’s shoulder as he would bring him in for a hug. Arms wrap around him & still he smiles, full & proud, as one hand reaches to ruffle the unwashed mess of a haircut Keith seems to wear with so much ease. A loving gesture, & he searches for Keith’s next reaction.
❝ You’re lucky I didn’t see you there before, because --
well, I don’t know! But... just count yourself lucky ! ❞
