4 Works by somethingihavenotseen
Listing Works
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Summary
They’ve waltzed in these forested walls before. Dancing around each other’s feet, around answers. Even before his world flipped on its axis, even back when things were simpler, set around a table in wood varnish with sunlight stepping in through the curtains.
Tord loved to toy with him, he often wondered if he was anything else to him than a novelty.
That's all he was. Tom’s deep seated votary coated in his volition. Brow laid in thorn, ripe on pride, owning that if he’d been made to say a word with the honest truth on his tongue—cut him down.
“Why did we stop receiving direct communication after your initial intervention?” He questions.
“Would you like a drink?” Tord slides out of his seat, and his gloved hand streaks warmth down his arm in its wake.
Tord knew the answer, so Tom said nothing.
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Tom and Matt are spies within the throes of the Red Army, attempting to save their friend Edd, and destroy the army from the inside. But Tom is increasingly drawn in to the Red Leader's infatuation with him. Will he stay the course? Or flounder?
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He has his hands over his face so he leans down to get a good look. Then—a blunt jab to his knee sends him to the ground right after. He’s able to catch himself slightly without dropping all of his weight onto John’s body, but it's pointless because John tackles him, flipping them so that Dave’s the one pinned to the ground.
“That’s real dirty, Egbert.”
Silence.
“Wow.” John says.
And he’s just there. Looking down at him in marvel like he was a novelty. Arms around him as though shielding the world from him, or him from the world. Sweat trickles down his face and neck.
“I think I—”
Rookie mistake.
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Dave has been in Washington for a week, some playful banter, a failed video game, and a playfight later...
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Summary
It was familiar, as if it contained the past and the future in a synonymous symphony. A harmony of sureness and things undefined. Of cornflowers and poppies both bleeding in the wake. The flame consumed, but it seemed to bloom as well. Relentless but not unforgiving, a wilting core but something forever living.
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Lukey finds himself returning time and time again to a painting he'd seen in memory lane, he tries to make sense of it.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 517
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 17
- Hits:
- 104
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Tags
Summary
He was no stranger to the dark. But alas, when one finds that much coveted flame the cold can feel so desolate. He hated the cold. More than he despised the cold he despised the feigning of heat before having it snuffed away amidst an uncontrollable force. Always uncontrollable, because seldom if at all did he let something malleable in his hands slip away.