93 [ Carlos To Tk! ]

93 [ carlos to tk! ]

#𝟗𝟑: "𝑪𝑶𝑭𝑭𝑬𝑬" - 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 / 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙵𝚈 𝚆𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳 !

coffee in the morning... don't wanna wake you... just wanna watch you sleep... it's the smell of your hair... and it's the way that we feel...

          they’re  married  now.  that’s  still  something  that  tk  sometimes  struggles  to  wrap  his  head  around.  they’re  married.  prior  to  meeting  carlos,  tk  had  never  thought  he’d  actually  get  married.  after  having  his  heart  shattered  back  in  new  york,  after  his  last  relapse…  he’d  truly  thought  of  himself  as  unlovable;  afraid  to  put  himself  back  out  there  and  risk  it  all  once  again  for  the  sake  of  LOVE.

          he  knows  he  hadn’t  made  it  easy  for  carlos,  but  he  had  to  give  the  man  props—he  never  gave  up.  it  had  been  a  good  thing  that  he  hadn’t,  too.  otherwise,  tk  has  no  doubt  that  he’d  still  be  miserable  and  aimless.  carlos  made  his  life  infinitely  better  than  he  ever  thought  possible.  he  doesn’t  know  how  he  ever  got  so  damn  LUCKY…

          still  groggy  with  sleep,  not  willing  to  get  out  of  bed  quite  yet,  he  snuggles  in  closer  to  carlos,  curling  against  his  muscular  frame.  idly,  fingers  trace  imaginary  shapes  into  his  husband’s  chest  as  he  sleepily  murmurs,  “ i've  never  felt  comfortable  like  this… ”

beauty tag dump:

[ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / answered. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / about. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / headcanon. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / interaction. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / style. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / aesthetic. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / likes. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / fc. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / reply. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / musings. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / music. [ most beautiful. ] beauty b. / visage.

@lastedpromise asked: 23 [ will to mike! ]

#𝟐𝟑: "𝑺𝑴𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹" - 𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓 / 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙵𝚈 𝚆𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳 !

i should go now quietly... for my bones have found a place to lie down and sleep... where all my layers can become reeds... all my limbs can become trees... all my children can become me...

          most  liked  to  think  that  mike  didn’t  know  or  care  about  what  an  asshole  he  could  be.  it’s  not  like  he  liked  lashing  out  and  he  regretted  when  he  did  it—but  damn  if  he  wasn’t  miserable.  it  certainly  wasn’t  an  excuse,  but  between  feeling  like  an  inadequate  son,  boyfriend,  and  best  friend,  well,  how  could  he  not  be  in  a  bad  mood ?  it  wasn’t  like  he  did  too  spectacularly  at  school  either.  truth  be  told,  he  wished  he  could  get  out  of  hawkins  and  never  have  to  come  back.  college  couldn't  come  soon  enough—if  he’d  even  be  able  to  get  into  where  he  really  wanted  to  go…

          though,  his  biggest,  most  secret  gripe  was  an  internal  struggle  that  he  hadn’t  dared  to  tell  anyone  about.  how  could  he ?  who  would  even  understand ?  he  didn’t  even  like  to  think  about  it,  himself.  he  liked  to  shove  it  all  down  and  pretend  like  that  side  of  him  didn’t  even  exist,  but  the  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  it  just  made  him  angrier.

          a  moody  teenager.

          one  that  everyone  had  to  constantly  clean  up  after.  he  didn’t  like  that  he  was  like  this,  but  what  could  he  do ?

          slowly,  apologetic  eyes  lifted  to  meet  will’s  for  a  brief  moment  before  flitting  away  again.  some  ‘best  friend’  he’d  been…

          “ man… ”  he  muttered,  drawing  out  a  long  sigh.  “ what  a  mess  i  leave,  to  follow… ”

          another  beat  of  silence  passed  between  them  before  he  quietly  added,  “ i’m  sorry…  you  don’t…deserve  that… ”

tagged by: @imaginarianisms tagging: anyone who wants to do this!

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐁 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

MINT

The world is a puzzle, so complex and multifaceted that you long to run your hands through the tapestry of its wonders and stay there forever, lost in the threads and colors and stories. You wish to stay there forever and you tell yourself it's to know the world but maybe it's not, maybe it's a fear that you're not enough, that you're so fragile and helpless in a world that moves too fast, to sharply, too many bright, painful colors that you stay locked inside your mind and thoughts, where you decide the tempo of your world, where you can grow and be as competent, as capable as you want, where the world is as wide as you can imagine it and never out of control unless you want it to be. Your shield is your knowledge, your mind, and you never feel ready enough for the world around you, never feel prepared enough, never safe, and you wonder if things could have been different, if you could have been better, happier, more like everyone else if you'd just known what you know now.

BASIL

You wear a thousand masks and you claim them all. You say they are all you, all parts of you but some of them you picked up when you needed to be brave, some you picked up when you failed because you were yourself, some of them you picked up because you needed to be stronger for someone smaller, better for someone bigger, useful for someone crueler, and you can't help but desperately scramble for first place, for usefulness, to prove you're worth keeping around, to prove you're the best, to prove you're good enough, valuable, enough. You just want someone to tell you you're enough. You strive for success, to be a role model, to take the lead, to be someone everyone loves, someone who can't fall, someone who can't be hurt the way you were once, the way you're running from even now. Sometimes you just want someone to hold your hand and let you spill all your broken fragments outward but you know you could never let it go. The only thing holding you together some days is the image of perfection and success and security and the worst part is that everyone else needs you to never falter either because you so often are the one holding everyone together too. You can't help but wonder if your emotions are ever your own, if you are just an actor in a life that's not your own, if you were cursed to be a mannequin, a doll, from the moment you were born and placed into a life where you were a child meant to be seen, not heard, to perform, not live, and the jealousy the injustice or the pain is fueled into masks as you take the world by storm.

@lastedpromise asked: 7 [ steve to nancy! ]

#𝟕: "𝑯𝑰 𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑴𝑬" - 𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒌𝒐 / 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙵𝚈 𝚆𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳 !

uh, when i'm with you i have amnesia, got me without a mind... my stupid brain thinks that i need you, misleads me all the time... [ ... ] 'cause i forget the crazy shit, the littlest things impress me... mediocre in the bed, my bestie would never let me... uh, i did it again...

          college  was  somehow  both  what  n.ancy  w.heeler  did  and  did  not  expect.  she  expected  a  heavy  course  load  and  to  not  have  much  free  time—and  sometimes  it  truly  was  like  that,  but  she  hadn’t  expected  to  befriend  some  of  the  people  in  her  classes,  much  less  expected  to  be  invited  out  for  drinks  to  celebrate  the  end  of  semester  exams.  normally,  nancy  wouldn’t  have  agreed—not  much  of  a  partier  in  general—but  with  how  much  of  an  absolute  STRESS  BALL  she’d  been  over  the  whole  ordeal,  she  agreed.

          and,  without  giving  it  much  thought,  she  got  carried  away—far  too  carried  away  to  be  sober  enough  to  make  it  home  on  her  own.  if  she  were  sober,  she’d  kick  herself  for  letting  herself  go  this  far.  though,  she’ll  be  paying  the  price  of  her  actions  by  tomorrow,  if  not  tonight,  depending  on  the  reaction  she  got  from  steve.  if  she  were  any  more  sober  than  she  currently  was,  she’d  feel  guilty.  because,  truly,  he  didn’t  deserve  this.

          “ steve, ”  she  crooned  into  the  payphone  outside  of  the  bar  she  and  her  classmates  had  gone  to.  “ steveeeee…  i,  um…  need  you… ”  her  words  were  slightly  slurred,  despite  any  attempts  to  sound  normal.  

          a  giggle  escaped  her  lips  before  she  could  stop  it,  followed  by,  “ it's  like  i  need  a  babysitter—someone  to  come  and  get  me…  you…have  experience  in  that,  don’t  you…?  can  you  come  pick  me  up ?  pleaseeee…? ”

          surely,  when  she’s  sober,  she’ll  feel  terrible  about  all  of  this.