PSL/Meme Continuation

[kingseeking]

for PSLs and meme continuation/overflow

Comments

tfln continuation for @dreamtheft

[kingseeking]

((ooc: continued from here!))

Listen, it’s not that I necessarily WANT to be tased, [even though he definitely 100% said that he wanted to] but one has to wonder what it would feel like. It’s not like it can kill you.

[Yes, Gansey, it definitely can.]

I sort of thought this was a normal thing to be curious about.

[dreamtheft]

maybe like a fleeting thought
but hey if u wanna get tased
i'll get us one.

[kingseeking]

[MmmmMMMMMMMM?]

While I appreciate the offer, please do not.

A thought best kept fleeting, you’re right.

[He’s beginning to think it was a bad idea to bring this up.]

for @chargecommander

[kingseeking]

((ooc: continued from whenst))

[A smile spreads wide and far across Gansey's face at the mention of knights. Beware, Ryuji. You are dangerously close to unlocking his special interest.]

It's Latin. "Ever upward", or perhaps "onward to greater things". [He shoots Ryuji a glance, still grinning.] Like ramen.

[Phew. Look at that. You're safe from having to hear about--

[Haha, just kidding.]

Though its earliest recorded origins date back only to the late fourteen hundreds, early fifteen hundreds - a poem recited to King Henry VIII of England. As far as I know, the poem from which it comes was recited by a bishop, not a knight, but that isn't to say that they didn't use it.

And it does have a lovely ring to it, doesn't it? Excelsior! You see?

[Please just lead him to the train.]

[chargecommander]

[ well, he wasn’t expecting the history lesson; and while he has absolutely no clue what Gansey’s talking about, Ryuji can’t help but share in his enthusiasm even a little bit while the boy gleefully infodumps to him. but now he's even more aware of the fact that he's hungry and that the promise of ramen is just within reach. they should probably hurry along before Ryuji perishes.

Ryuji laughs a little—not so much at Gansey, he just finds something about this kind of amusing. ]

Well then, first we gotta “excelsior” to the train station. [ he's slowly making his way to the door. ] Let's go, dude!

[kingseeking]

Ah! Yes! Excelsior indeed!

[Ryuji is very gracious for playing along, and it doesn't go underappreciated. Gansey easily follows him outside and waits for him to lead their way to the ramen shop.]

that one psl

[kunimeh]

[Kunimi doesn't actually want to cook breakfast, but he also doesn't want to grab just anything to bring back - call him smitten, because he absolutely is, but he really believes there's a right choice to cap off the dreamlike 24 hours he's just experienced. He skims cafe menus from their windows, checks out specials written on chalk signs, but nothing seems quite right.

That's when it occurs to him that he may be at a disadvantage, considering that breakfast is yet another wild diversion between American and Japanese culture. How can he possibly guess what Whelk would want when he's accustomed to a bit of fish and steamed rice?

And so he winds up standing on a Henrietta sidewalk with hands tucked into the pockets of his big hoodie, his hair mussed and eyes still a bit sleepy, looking exactly as lost as he feels.]

[kingseeking]

[Whelk and Gansey have a couple of things in common, one of them being that neither of them know how to cook and eat mostly microwave meals. The difference is that when Gansey is sick of them, he can afford to go out and get breakfast, so that’s what he’s on his way to do. It should be more like lunch, but despite being awake most of the night, he actually forgot to eat until his stomach started yelling at him. He’s without his gang again, walking down a Henrietta sidewalk on a confident stride - always looking to make a good impression even when there’s no one asking for one.

[When he stops at a crosswalk to wait for the signal, he speaks politely to the gentleman standing next to him.]

Fine morning. Almost afternoon now. [Complete with a friendly chuckle. Oh, but this person looks familiar. In a small town in the American South, someone like Kunimi stands out - also he recognizes the hoodie, the implications of which settle in right around the time he remembers where he last saw him.

[You know, hurdling himself into the poor guy’s table at Harry’s.

[Also he was with Whelk.]

Ah, Kunimi. Kunimi Akira, right? How nice to see you again.

[This is awkward, but Gansey has more confidence behind his overly friendly smile now that he’s not wiping desecrated gelato off his phone and apologizing.]

tfln continutation for @dumpset

[kingseeking]

((ooc: from whenst))

Well, I did find you to be a bit cautious at first. Certainly there's nothing wrong with not showing every card in your hand on the first date. :) [He's kidding! It's funny, see? Because they met at speed dating! Hilarious!]

Then I found you to be very passionate about what you do, and very honest. That's endured. Now I know you to be quite funny and someone I enjoy spending time with. I wouldn't call you antisocial. You just prefer to socialize with people that you know and like, right?

I think most people are that way deep down. And you're perfectly nice looking.

[dumpset]

[ first d-date? oh, right... they met at that speed dating thing... tobio tries not to look disappointed when he realizes that must be what gansey meant. not that gansey can see him anyway since they're texting and all. ]

you think i'm funny?

[ well, that's new, tobio thinks. he never really does anything to be funny on purpose. but there are times when gansey laughs at something tobio says, and moments like those usually spark something light in tobio's chest. if that's what's being funny is all about then he's happy to be described as such. ]

thank you... not sure about nice-looking, but everything else seems right...

ronan's drunk and he loves gansey

[threesecrets]

[It's roughly two in the morning on Friday Night/Saturday Morning, when Ronan stumbles through the door at Monmouth. The keys to the BMW are a jangle in his hand, and the door echoes loud as it slams shut inelegantly behind him. He's warm with alcohol, with adrenaline, with coming home to Gansey on the mattress and his cardboard Henrietta on the floor around him. He sways a little and it pulls a grim laugh from sharp lips as he peers at Gansey.]

I think-- I might be drunk.

[Ronan offers this surprisingly brightly; the mix of alcohol and beating Kavinsky's Mitsubishi because he didn't know how to shift through the fucking turns put him in a pleasant mood. The other boy would be furious at school on Monday, but that was hardly a detriment. It was an outlet, an excuse. Kavinsky's bad temper gave him somewhere to put his anger that wasn't his friends.

He stripped out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor before stepping around Gansey's model of Henrietta with almost exaggerated care. It's more that he doesn't entirely trust his reflexes to navigate it. It's not that he's unaware that Gansey worries about him on nights like this, when he mixes racing and alcohol and impulsive decisions. It's just that sometimes the adrenaline is the only thing that makes sense, sometimes the weight of being cared about burns because he can't put it into the words he wants to say.

He flops down on the mattress in the rest of his clothes, careful not to accidentally fall on Gansey, and noses into his shoulder. He's like a dog that's still deciding whether or not it wants attention, but still wants proximity.]

[kingseeking]

[Gansey’s eyes, tired, lecture Ronan before his mouth does. Tonight is one of those nights where he may have been able to go to sleep at a somewhat reasonable hour if only he hadn’t been up worrying (as he so often does with Ronan). It had been no wonder where the other boy would be. The smell of gasoline and liquor confirms for him what he already knows, and finally, eyebrows raised, he says:]

You think you’re drunk.

I’d say I know you’re drunk.

[Evidenced by plenty, but particularly by the way he’s flopped into bed with him. The two of them have been getting closer lately, but it’s still rather a new thing to be this close. Ronan’s nose on his shoulder makes it difficult to stay angry, but not so difficult that he can’t still feel exasperated. He sighs a little, adjusting where he lays, but not so much as reaching for him yet. It’s best to let Ronan be the one to decide how close they should be.]

Were you driving too? [His voice has an edge to it.] You’ll kill someone that way.

First meet

[57times]

[ This wasn't good.

This wasn't good at all.

She could have sworn she'd gone the right way, but the longer she'd been out, the thicker and darker the clouds had become, and soon not only was she very lost in a town she'd been in barely a week, but now she was now woefully getting soaked to the bone. Not to mention how late she already was now. Her dad was going to kill her.

Fuck....fuck.

It feels like the more desperate she gets, the fewer people there are out - and even the ones that are, she clams up before she can approach them to ask for help. And so she wanders some more on the slightest hope that maybe she'll find her way if she keeps going.

Only, instead of the road where her new house is, she just winds up at the door of some old factory, or warehouse maybe. It doesn't exactly scream 'safe haven', but it's freezing and she's upset and panicking just a bit, and completely drenched on top of all that. So she opens the door - wary of alarms, or of any sounds inside, but the rain drowns out anything and everything.

So, she slips inside, and closes the door as carefully as she can behind her, her arms quickly coming around herself as she shivers against the cold and steps further in. Looking around her now, she's starting to wonder if being outside was perhaps the better option.

Place looks like it belongs to a serial killer - something not helped by her foot catching on something in the near darkness, a pole or piece of metal toppling over and clattering to the ground, the sound echoing dreadfully and startling her just as much. ]

HERE IT IS

[kingseeking]

[Monmouth - although Gansey has lived there for a few months now - can be a terribly haunting place at night, especially when Ronan is out (racing, God, he's probably racing in this rain, he's probably dead in a ditch somewhere), and Noah is...off doing whatever it is that Noah does. While the second floor is decidedly more homey than the first, the floor to ceiling windows really aren't much comfort when it's pitch black outside and storming (Ronan is dead in a ditch, he just knows it). Gansey has his earbuds in, and he's trying to pretend that the entire evening isn't becoming quickly uncomfortable as the storm rages on and the night grows darker.

[Then he hears a clang downstairs that echoes so loudly he can hear it over his music. He yanks the earbud from one ear, heart jumping in his chest.

[An intruder? Goddamn that downstairs door never locking (or maybe he just forgot to lock it - maybe Ronan forgot to lock it dead in a ditch, dead in a ditch). He furrows his brow, listens a bit closer to the sound of-- Oh yes, someone is certainly downstairs. And it's not Ronan - Ronan is dead in a fucking ditch would have slammed the door downstairs shut so loud it rocked the brick building.

[This is highly discomfiting. So Gansey grabs a crowbar. Nothing wrong with a little friendly (and armed) confrontation. He doesn't creep quietly to the door leading to the bottom floor either. Confidence is important. So he thrusts it open, making no show of hiding the weapon in his hand, and calls down, voice deep, firm, but somehow still somewhat friendly:] Hello, now. What's all this?

tfln continuation for @hababa

[kingseeking]

((ooc: from whenst))

Of course. He was my roommate back in Henrietta. I've known him a couple of years now.

[They're bffs, Theo. Also, why do so many people keep implying he's going to die?]

I can't say the name is terribly fitting, but suppose I'll take the "dream" bit as a compliment.

You're Theo according to my contact information.

[hababa]

Huh, small world.
He tell you how we met?

「 Did he, Gansey? Because she's about to. 」

Nearly hit me with his car, speeding like a twat.
He's alright though.

Yeah, that's me.
dw I'll change your info in mine.

[existandbleed]

[They're out of school and it's summer, and Noah has been returned to- well, life is the wrong word. But he's back, as much as he was before. And Adam had an apartment of his own and his birthday is looming. But what he doesn't have is Gansey. Not like it was before. And he means to call or text or say something, but with all these tension it's even harder face-to-face. And it feels like he's supposed to say something that starts with sorry and Adam Parrish doesn't fucking want any of it.

But not talking- the way they avert their eyes when they stand too close- he doesn't want that either. So instead, Gansey gets an attempt at an olive branch, one of Adam's contentious compromises. Where he's building a bridge without talking about what runs beneath, like this is a normal discussion, a continuation of some earlier reminder he'd given Gansey.]

you know if you have the time you should get the oil on the pig changed before the heat spikes & let me check the fluids.
I think I'll have some spare time at the end of my shift at Boyd's tomorrow if you want to stop by?

I was supposed to be looking over the transmission on a 98 firebird trans am but I guess the guy wants to do it himself.

[How do you express care for Gansey without saying any words that could be read that way? Well, if you were Adam Parrish, you did it by caring about his car.]

whoops gansey novel for you

[kingseeking]

[Gansey isn't expecting a text from Adam.

["Strange" would be an understatement for how things feel between them right now - "right now", Gansey tells himself. Something temporary. Something that can be resolved - something that will be resolved. This is what he tells himself. But everything feels wrong.

[It's not a simple fight that's put distance between he and Adam as of late. A young man is dead, a body left crushed in the woods - god, how broken he'd looked lying there, so unlike the man that had been standing at the whiteboard only days before. It's an image Gansey can't rake from his mind no matter how hard he tries - something new to keep him up at night.

[And Adam. Breaking Gansey's trust had been only part of the discretion. Sacrificing himself to the line came as a shock, no doubt. But the coldness with which he'd tossed the idea of human life aside. That had shaken Gansey deeply. Something about Adam felt foreign now. Cabeswater's power had been terrifying - did its roots now tangle with his dear friend's veins?

[Of course they couldn't meet each other's eyes. But Adam Parrish is still Adam Parrish, isn't he? How desperately Gansey has been aching to feel like that's true.

[He misses him, and how things felt before teachers wielded guns and forests fought back with stampedes.

[Talking about the Pig should feel sore. It does, a bit, but it's so much more a comfort than it is an irritation. This is a familiar conversation. This is territory that Gansey knows. Even if he does idly feel like asking if the fluids seemed alright when Adam stole his goddamned car.]

Hasn't it spiked already?

'98 has no charm like '73. I'll take you up on your offer, Parrish. She did seem a bit finicky this morning.

[Gansey is a bad liar, but it's just a little white one. The Pig is, for once, running fine. But he's not about to say no when Adam is reaching out.

[There's so much more he wants to say, but it's already frustrating to weigh out every single word of a simple conversation about a car they both well know.]

Your Firebird owner is a fool. Suppose he'll realize that when he's broken down on the side of the road come tomorrow.

tense phonecalls

[declanisms]

[He remembers the first time that Ronan brought Gansey to the Barns. The first time that he'd gotten a glimpse of him as something more than the boy he was at school. This Gansey was all bright and lit up inside, something irrefutable to his charm as he talked about ley lines and Glendower. He hadn't been able to help thinking how lovely he was, but he'd tried to resist. Gansey was Ronan's friend, and Declan was not allowed to want things.

But Niall had died, leaving Declan executor of the estate and convenient target for Ronan's ire. He'd gone to live with Gansey, and they'd become something like friends, a bond that came from mutual love-tinged-with-frustration for Ronan. And then there'd been that night at the hospital, and he'd been out of town when it had happened, and he'd ended up with his face pressed into his shoulder, because he'd almost lost Ronan. He still thinks that maybe he should have told Gansey about Ronan's dreams then, but he knew Gansey would feel the need to talk about it, and it would be another betrayal of their father that Declan did not have the emotional currency to afford.

He'd kissed him. Overwhelmed and wanting and aching for something that was good. He'd been prepared to apologize, but Gansey had kissed the words from his mouth. Things were good. But there was still Ronan. They've learned to keep these conversations to phone calls, where they're less likely to be distracted, to soften each other so they don't say the words they feel they have to.]

--I'm not saying it's your fault, Dick. But he missed three days this week, including a test in World History. I got a phone call from Aglionby about an ethics hearing because they feel he's not, quote- 'conducting himself to the standards Aglionby holds all its young men' end-quote. I managed to put it off for the moment, but if things don't change, he's not going to make it to midterms.

[He loved his brother. And he tried to not think of a name for his feelings for Gansey. But it didn't make these conversations easier. He knew Gansey was doing his best, but Gansey was the only person with any hope of getting Ronan to behave, so Declan had to push sometimes, to make sure Gansey was pushing Ronan.]

[kingseeking]

[Gansey felt tired the moment he saw Declan's name pop up on his phone - and what a terrible way to feel when getting a call from your boyfriend. But something told him - Ronan's attitude earlier that afternoon, the struggle with which he's had to strongarm him into doing his homework lately, maybe just the smell of the air - that this would not be a pleasant phone call.

[And it isn't. Gansey hates to argue, and he especially hates to argue with Declan, because they so often do, and it's so often about Ronan, and he so often wishes that they talked more often about pleasant things like each other than they did about unpleasant things like ethics hearings and wayward teenagers.

[He has to grit his teeth on the other end of the phone as Declan rattles on to avoid snapping at him, but it's something he's quite practiced at. Even where no one can see him, when he speaks, it's behind a stubborn smile - a smile with bite to it, and politeness in his tone that has all the more so. Your average Joe might not be able to place the irritation, but he knows Declan probably can.]

I wouldn't imply that you thought it to be my fault, Declan. [He says, knowing full well that that is what he felt Declan implied, meanwhile asserting that it's not his fault. "I'm doing the best I can," he feels like screaming, but he can't, of course, so he doesn't.] Ronan has been up on his school work - I should know, shouldn't I? We study together. And we've arrived at school the same time each day this week. If he's missed class, then it wasn't to my knowledge.

[He has to bite his lip to keep back from letting out a sigh - it comes out as a quick breath instead.]

I'll talk to him, of course. Now, that will be all, won't it? [He hates that he wants to get off the phone with his boyfriend right now. He hates that they have to talk about this in this way. He hates that he's angry at Declan because of Ronan's shortcomings - again. He hates his muddy sense of loyalty and the fact that he has to draw those lines in the first place.

[Christ. He mutters it only in his mind.]

trauma talks!!!

[knucklesdirty]

[The text comes when Fran's back at the dorms and Gansey's at Monmouth, clocks ticking towards 3am.]

I died when I was a kid too.

[kingseeking]

[Not what he was expecting, but not something he can ignore either.]

Are you alright, Fran?

the dumbest idea

[threesecrets]

Hey. It's for you.

[It's summer, and they're at the Barns, and Ronan has just returned from inside, holding a box out to Gansey. The curls of his dark hair brush against the line of his jaw, and he grins at the other boy, sunny and bright.

The box in question is approximately shoe box shaped, if he decides to get analytical about it. And it is true that the week before they'd spent two hours ankle-deep in water, with Gansey in his favorite boat shoes; choosing between his questionable fashion and Glendower was never much of a choice.

But new though their friendship was, Ronan recognized that they mattered to him. He was perfectly capable of buying his own stupid shoes, but he'd kept wearing the ones with the cracked leather. So here they were, Ronan with a box in his hands and a laugh on his breath as he handed it to the other boy.]

Open it.

[He leaned in, shoving his shoulder into Gansey's with heedless exuberance.]

feed a stray once and he keeps coming back;

[dreamforger]

[In this world the words Ronan says are not it'll never be you and me. Instead it's this: get in said as solemn as a promise. Kavinsky is sharp enough to realize when he's being offered an olive branch, and so he does. He rides shotgun and hides behind his sunglasses as Ronan gives Gansey his car.

He tries to pretend he doesn't notice that he's leaving footprints in Gansey's sunshine world. But before he can say something acerbic and self-defeating that probably would have started with it's been fun ladies, but I have better places to be-- Ronan says he's like me. And just like that, Kavinsky understands that he's being vouched for. So for once he sullenly shuts his mouth and lets the other boys give him whatever weird gift this is. Gansey seems to accept those three words like a testament, like he reads the things Ronan isn't saying outloud.

So if Gansey finds himself wondering when his life changed to include Kavinsky tipping the other teen's desk chair obnoxiously as he steals a leaf from the mint plant-- that was probably the beginning. It's 4am and small annoyances aside, K's been surprisingly quiet as he watches him work on his model Henrietta. Eventually he breaks the silence with a crooked sort of grin-]

You know, if you still can't sleep, I could help with that, Dimochka.

[Is he talking about sex or drugs? With Kavinsky it could be either. Or both. Probably both. Gansey got insistent about not being called Dick one night, and while K technically obeys, it's only because he's replaced it with Russian nicknames.]

don't let it in with no intention to keep it, jesus christ

[kingseeking]

[There was a point at which things had "started" with Kavinsky, and that was relatively clear to Gansey. But at which point things had "become" with Kavinsky was less clear. That is to say, what had "started" as an occasional visit to Monmouth had "become" more a matter of a fixture than a guest. Something about Gansey wanted to resist this at first - that "something" was that Gansey didn't like Kavinsky. But Ronan had spoken his camaraderie into truth, and Gansey was no one to deny him of it. So Kavinsky had "started". But when had he "become"? When did perpetual feather-ruffling turn into something Gansey expected, brushed off, even laughed at? When had it become Kavinsky who stayed up with Gansey late into the early morning hours while he perseverated on whatever he happened to be perseverating on. And when had Gansey come not to mind it?

[The implication of either sex, drugs, or both isn't lost on him, but it doesn't bother him either, because Kavinsky said it, and that's just what he does, and Gansey doesn't find it offensive anymore. It's familiar. It's within the walls of Monmouth, among the tiny cardboard streets, sitting in his desk chair, chewing on his mint leaves. Just like Ronan when he plays music loud enough that you can hear it through his door, or like Adam when he's finishing his homework on the other side of mini Henrietta, or like Noah when he sits on the floor with his back against the wall, or like Blue when she snarks about his boat shoes.

["Right-ness" creeping up on him so slowly that he doesn't even place it.

[Gansey doesn't look up from where he's gluing a roof tile in place, but he does furrow his brow a little bit. His voice is a little idle when he speaks, his focus on rebuilding the cardboard town, and on Glendower, and on staying upright.]

What's that one? "Dimochka". Something vile?