Tom Hiddleston for Flaunt Magazine (Long Version) [x]
Monthly Archives: December 2013
In a universe where everyone is born with numbers on their wrists counting down to when they’ll meet their soulmate, send me 00:00:00 for my muses reaction to their numbers hitting zero when they meet yours.
The soulmate countdown was something everyone preoccupied themselves with at one point or another throughout the day. Often without really concious thought about it. Someone would rub their fingertips against it, gaze at it, brush it up against their heart as if that somehow synched the two beatings into one.
The clock was meant to countdown towards the meeting of a soulmate. Tick, tick, tick. Every number falling lower and lower until that moment would arrive.
For Derek Hale his countdown started to mess up at the age of nine, which perplexed everyone because that wasn’t meant to happen. His counting went haywire and would alternate between rising and falling numbers. It could move down but then would suddenly move up. No one had any way of knowing this was because his soulmate was facing trouble. The number would rise in the heat of the danger and would fall back down where it should have been when the danger cleared.
They first encountered one another when Derek was twelve years old but they weren’t ready yet and the numbers fiddled until they rose a little higher. It wasn’t the moment but a faint beep happened anyway, not that either one paid any attention to it.
It was when Derek was eighteen that the countdown finally reached 24 hours left. The very next day he would finally meet his soulmate and try as he might he couldn’t sleep at all that night. He went about his day and everytime he thought it was her — it turned out not to be.
No, the moment he actually met his soulmate once and for all was when he was about to step into the street and into oncoming danger he wasn’t noticing but pulled back just in the nick of time with a thud. He was left to stare up into the eyes he was meant to be with forever.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
This time the numbers actually read zero.
It was like any other scar on her body; in times of stress, Summer would run her fingertips over it. The soulmate countdown. She’d long since quit paying attention to the numbers. They had seemed to spiral out of control the first time she had an empathy-induced seizure, spiking up and down erratically.
That was when she had decided she wasn’t actually meant to have a soulmate.
After all, who could possibly be destined to be with someone like her? Someone born broken, forced to listen as others around her met their soulmates. Forced to know the hidden things, the things people didn’t want others to see.
So she didn’t notice that her clock dropped sharply with the first fire she shaped of someone else’s emotions, or again when she moved upstate.
Summer didn’t notice that days had become hours on the clock, while she unpacked her electronics and clothes, bought her coursebooks. She didn’t pay attention to the fact that hours had become minutes, while she steeled herself for the first day of college. And she didn’t see that minutes had become seconds when she felt the driver’s spike of panic and flung out both hands to snatch the tall, dark stranger back from the oncoming truck.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
His eyes were whiskey brown, and she couldn’t stop herself paling at the darkness that lurked within them.
… excuse, why am I six from 250? EX-PLAIN EX-PLAIN EX-PLAIN
I just mainlined all of s2 of Teen Wolf in a day, I’m not responsible for my sanity.
Yes, sometimes I find new rpers to follow based on their fc.
Shut up.
“What are you planning to do with that?”
lancelotsbravery-deactivated201:
“I plan to destroy it so no one else can get their hands on it. It has caused nothing but misery.”
“Well, what were you /going/ to do?”
“Until I have found a way of disposing it, I will keep it well hidden.”
“I’m going to go with, that is a stupid idea.” Summer tapped her lips with a finger, thinking. “I think we should ask Gaius, really.”
.
She makes a sound that is supposed to mean assent, and leans her head back against the headrest, trying to keep her hands away from her mouth. It’s hard, because the lack of feeling feels so strange. Of course, the painkiller they gave her before she left might also have something to do with that — it’s hard to tell. She feels drifty.
Clint uses some of the side roads to avoid the worst traffic jam. It’s a bit longer trip but you’re still home faster than you’d be if you had taken your chances with the shorter way and the jam.
As Clint parks his car, he says, “Okay you’re home now. Do you want me to to come and keep you some company?” The hawk’s a bit worried and wants to see that you’ll be okay. He gets out of the car and walks to the other side of the car with the intention of opening the door for you..
She waits, still drifty, until he opens the door. It barely occurs to her to open it herself, as strange as she feels right now. There’s a /hole/ in her mouth, full of cotton gauze, and she can’t feel half her jaw, and honestly she kind of feels like if she stands up she’s just going to fall back down.
Summer grabs Clint’s hand when he opens the door, leaning her head against it briefly, then summons up a smile for him. When they get upstairs, she’ll be able to communicate better — a tablet, a pad, something. In the meantime, she holds on to his hand and puts the other arm around his waist, just in case the dizziness is real and not her imagination.
“Hey, our common friend the coffee monster told me to come and talk with you.” Clint chuckles and sits down.
“Oh yeah? Were there specifics? Did you leave him with plenty of caffeine?” Summer glances up from her laptop, grinning. “Or is this him doing that thing where he’s afraid he’ll screw it up if he tries to … make his friends be friends?”
“It’s the wind,” she replies. It is, and the way the towering highrises of downtown New York channel it into cutting edges doesn’t help. No coat she owns proof against that. She takes in a deep breath and holds it for a moment, then breathes it out in a puff of condensation and laughs. “Dragon’s breath.”
“The wind is quite sharp and nearly chilling. Here, let’s hope it protects you at least a little.” the hawk says and places his coat on your shoulders.
You puffing your breath brings a small smile to his face and your words cause a quiet chuckle to emerge. “Come on then my little dragon, let’s get you some hot chocolate to warm you up.”
Summer growls quietly. She doesn’t need to be protected, but she doesn’t jerk the coat off her shoulders. It would destroy the fragile bond they’re crafting here. Clint will come to see her independence soon enough. She grabs his hand, instead, and pulls him at a faster speed toward the park.
ø
A drink at the bar.
Gwaine waved Summer over, a smile on his lips. “Sum! Let me buy you a drink, what are you having?” He asked, smiling.
“I figured usually there was a reason. Battles won, women lost, things like that.” Picking up the cup, she showed him how it was done; lifting the chin, because the flattest part of the head is the very top.
Gwaine grinned at her, watching as she balanced the cup on her head; only to lightly shove her shoulder, trying to make the cup fall. “Show off,” he mumbled, downing his drink and placing it back on the bar. “How’d you do that?”
“Lots and lots of practise,” Summer swept up the cup and held it back out to the barmaid, who neatly refilled it. “Practise you will never have, I expect, because a man never carries things on his head.” She tapped the cup on top of his head, then drank most of it off and slid down to his lap. “Is there a reason?”