nonsexual acts of intimacy - select from the following for my muse to respond to:
♔ : Finding your muse wearing their clothes ♕: Holding hands ♖: Having their hair washed by your muse ♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse's lap. ♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort ♙: Sharing a bed ♚: Head scratches ♛: Sharing a dessert ♜: Shoulder rubs ♝: Reading a book together ♞: Caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which) ♟: Patching up a wound ♤: Taking a bath together ♧: Your muse playing with their hair ♡: Accidentally falling asleep together ♢: Forehead or cheek kisses ♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc. ♣: Back scratches ♥: Your muse crying about something ♦: Slow dancing
❝ A NIGHT out on the TOWN doesn’t sound too bad AT ALL. && considering i spend my entire SCHOOL DAY with old folks giving us all the stink eye, i should feel RIGHT AT HOME. ❞
( for a MOMENT he almost lets the dam SHATTER. he almost lets OBLIVION tumble out && tells her how bad he NEEDS this freedom, how his life is on it’s way to the grainy bottom of the OCEAN && there’s no lifeboat. he refrains. )
❝ it’s NOTHING to turn you nose up at, i’d say. see, but this’ll be different, because you aren’t the SUBORDINATE of these old folks. you could put them right in their places if you so desired.. ❞
( she’s already working through DETAILS of the night, managing her schedule and meal plan. she’s too OCCUPIED for her maternal instinct to kick in. though she notes a lapse in conversation. )
&& there’s a sigh as she lit another cigarette, eyes flickering at whoever came to tell her the news about this truce with the night creepers. ❛ just don’t expect a warm welcome from me. i’d rather die than having to kiss their asses. ❜
❛ i’m sure it’s just a FORMALITY.❜
she’s kicking at the ground, hating to be the bearer of bad news. she lits a cigarette of her own– call it a more SUBTLE rebellion. ❛ bet it’s just so the mayor can pat himself on the back. i hardly see them ENFORCING anything. ❜
The streets of Los Angeles are filled with gangs of teenagers and young adults, hiding behind corners, pickpocketing tourists, stealing for a living and getting into every possible fight. And when two of these gangs—the Day Trotters and the Night Creepers—started what seemed a street war, the Government knew they had to interfere, in their own twisted way.
Tensions between the two heightened quickly and gang fights became more and more frequent when each began to think they were being infiltrated by members of the enemy gang. Despite the bitter hatred between the two, both have decided to call a truce in order to focus their efforts on fighting the Government who’s been trying to send more infiltrators into their small world. But old habits die hard. Will they be able to keep it up? Will they tear each other down? Or find out who’s on their side and who’s not?
RULES;; The tag to be tracked is v;ourdeal. Please refrain from making OOC drama, and any questions should be sent here. This is open to ALL fandoms. Take note that there’s no supernatural catch—no magic, or werewolves, etc. The app can be found under the read more and has to be sent here.
“You think I’m fucking stupid? I know it was you.”
“Fuckin’ piece of shit. Fuck you! Fuck.”
“Oh my dear god. Are you one of those single tear people?”
“Why do you suppose I just hurled a chair at your head?”
“Hey, fuck off, Johnny Utah! Turn my pages, bitch!”
“Get the fuck out of my sight before I demolish you!”
“That is not your boyfriend’s dick, do not come early.”]
“Yeah, I guess maybe you don’t have it.”
“Glad you could fit us into your busy schedule, Darling.”
“You got 10 minutes, you fuckin’ pathetic pansy-ass fruit fuck.”
“What the fuck are you looking for? There’s no pot of gold down there.”
“When did you become a fucking expert on what I can or can not do, you fucking weepy-willow shit sack?”
“I was there to push people beyond what’s expected of them.”
“Dying broke and drunk and full of heroin at the age of 34 is not exactly my idea of success.”
“I’d rather die drunk, broke at 34 and have people at a dinner table talk about me than live to be rich and sober at 90 and nobody remembered who I was.”
“There are no two words in the English language more harmful than ‘good job’.”
“But I tried. I actually fucking tried. And that’s more than most people ever do.”
