everyone else is fast asleep in bed [karsten]

[bronwyn elise beckett]

i can't seem to find the switch

[/b]

to turn the lights off, even though I need to fall asleep

[/size][/i][/font]

.....

Bronwyn wasn’t entirely sure what woke her from her slumber: the sunlight slanting though the blinds and directly into her eyes, or the ghastly shrieking noise that came from the general direction of the kitchen. All she was sure of was that she was conscious, or at least more conscious than she had been a moment before, and that something in the loft was being tortured and torturing the eardrums of anyone within earshot as revenge for its suffering. Bronwyn rolled over, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her pillow over her head like a lid on a bottle. Grasping at the last shreds of that blissful, half asleep, none of this is real yet feeling, she tried to lull herself back into la la dream land. What’s that God awful noise, anyway?

[/color] she wondered idly. She could still hear it through her pillow, though it was mercifully muffled under all of the down feathers squashed over her ears. The garbage disposal? With forks in it? No! It doesn’t matter what it is. Ignore it. Go back to sleep. Five more minutes… Maybe it’s the coffee maker? Why the fuck would Kars be making coffee? He’s a warlock, for crying out loud! He could magic in some Starbucks and… God dammit. She was awake.

Baby blue eyes shot open and were instantly squished into a glare when scowling lips pulled slim eyebrows into a frown. Throwing her pillow to the foot of the bed, the brunette untangled herself from the snarl of sheets keeping her legs prisoners and sat up, running her fingers through her hair. Knots and tangles tugged at her fingers, and she winced at the idea of taming her tresses.. The alarm clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed glared back when Bronwyn finally looked at it, its purely decorative bells glinting sun into her eyes and its face screaming 9:07 a.m. Too flippin’ early when translated into Bronwynese. With a sigh, the warlock heaved herself to her feet, shivering when her sparkly silver toes hit the icy wooden floors. Absentmindedly, she waved her hand back towards her bed as she toed around the heap of clothes on the floor; the covers lifted into the air and rearranged themselves, smoothing out wrinkles and settling back into a neat, tidy pile. Perks of being a warlock: never having to make your bed. she thought, her lips twisting into a grin as she kicked up a dark grey hoodie that she’d bought from Aeropostale the previous fall. She tugged the hoodie on over her purple tank top; someone had cranked the air conditioning up in the middle of the night, and her itty bitty zebra sleep shorts suddenly seemed impractical. Adorable, but impractical.

Peeking her head out of her room, the grisly noise from the kitchen got louder, and again Bron wondered what it could be. More importantly, she wondered why Karsten hadn’t beaten it into a pulp to shut it up. Oh, wait. It was Karsten she was thinking about; he wouldn’t beat anything to a pulp. Sighing, the girl paced towards the epicenter of the noise, weaving through the entertainment room and dining room. (Which was pointless, really; no one ever sat down to dinner around here.) She ended up in the kitchen, where it turned out that her theory of a fork in the garage disposal wasn’t far off. She slammed her fist against the garbage disposal button, and plucked the chicken bone from the sink and tossed it in the garbage can.

The silence that fell on the loft was deafening, and in the quiet Bronwyn looked around to spot Karsten and yell at him for not turning off the blasted noise before it woke her up. As an afterthought, she grabbed a banana from the counter and peeled it as she walked, scanning the rooms for a shock of blonde hair. When the rest of the house turned up empty, she shouldered open the door to his room and stalked over to the bed. “G’morning sexy, rise and shine!” she yawned, plopping down on the edge of his bed and ruffling his hair. If she had to be up this early, then so did he. She took a bite of her banana, folding her legs under her as she prepared herself for what could possibly be the long process of waking him up. It had been so long since she’s woken up before him that she couldn’t remember if he was a light sleeper or not. Swallowing her bite, she shrugged to no one in particular as she tore off another chunk of banana.[/justify]

.....

tagged : karsten <3
words : seven seven two
lyrics : “goodnight, moon” by heyhihello
outfit : coming laterrrrrr

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[karsten rené ferdinand]

hey soul sister, ain't that MISTER MISTER

[/b][/size]


[/center]

A loud grumble tore through the room, reverberating off the walls. Karsten would not have cared about the source of the noise if he wasn't feeling it. No, the rumble echoed from the depths of his stomach, demanding to be fed. Purple eyes lit up as he realized there was no way on earth he was going to fall back asleep unless he had food in his system. With a groan, the blond lifted himself out of bed. His sleep attire, a pair of gym shorts, wasn't enough to combat the cool morning hallway, but Karsten didn't care. He was hungry. The man took quick strides into the kitchen, however with a sense of carefulness. He knew his body still wasn't awake, and didn't yet trust his footsteps. The dark hallway also stood out as a challenge, but Karsten knew the household by memory. After a turn here and a turn there, he finally made his way into the kitchen.

A long arm reached out and yanked the refrigerator's door open, spilling yellow light into the small kitchen. Hands shuffled through the fridge's shelves, digging through everything for a morsel of food. Old Yoplait yogurt - probably Bronwyn's. A sack of half-eaten asparagus sticks - definitely Bronwyn's. A slight curse started to escape Karsten's lips before he found the Holy Grail: a red-and-white tub. He recognized it instantly as leftover fried chicken, and tore into the bucket. Unfortunately there was only one chicken leg left, but Karsten didn't care. The boy brought the meat to his lips and tore into the cold chicken, ripping meat from the bone. No manners, all man. Although it was a bit on the salty side and the fat grams were doubled his daily personal limit, Karsten's stomach went from a bipolar state of starving to happy.

Still half-asleep, the blond tossed the chicken bone into the sink. The best part of being a warlock, in Karsten's opinion, was the immense amount of laziness that came with the job. The boy reached out his hand towards the garbage disposal button, instantly coming to life. For mundanes, it could be seen as a comical twist on Star Wars characters using The Force. Karsten shrugged when he heard the sink start to ravage the chicken bone. It did have an automatic timer, right? Another shrug. His one-track mind changed from food to bed, and he wanted it right then and there. His feet once again managed to make their way back into the bedroom before stubbing anything. Karsten jumped back into his bed, falling into a deep slumber before his body made contact with the soft sheets below.

---

Karsten's mouth hung gaping open, equipped with a bit of drool trickling down towards his chin. Though a very attractive male, his bed-beauty could use a bit of work. As Bronwyn called out to the blond, it took a few seconds for the noises to register in his head. He instinctively rolled over away from the noise, grabbing a fistful of blankets to cover himself with as he went. Karsten loudly grumbled, giving the intruder one last chance to leave him be. The chicken had left a horrible aftertaste in his mouth, as if he was trying to swallow greasy strips of paper. The warlock shuddered at the taste and flicked his purple eyes open once again. "Broooooooon," he groaned. He was still dazed from sleep and couldn't see straight. The brunette girl that sat on the edge of the bed beside him was just a blur, even after an attempt of childishly wiping his eyes with his knuckles. Karsten yawned, lifted himself upright, and stretched. The cold air once again greeted his bare torso. "What do you want this early?" he pouted, fighting another yawn.


words; six two eight.
tags; bronwyn, chicken.
outfit; silver gym shorts. no polyvore needed.
notes; woo! late reply!

[bronwyn elise beckett]

SHE SAID IT’S THREE A.M. AND EVERYONE ELSE IS FAST ASLEEP IN BED
and i can’t seem to find the switch

[/b][/i]
TO TURN THE LIGHTS OFF, EVEN THOUGH I NEED TO FALL ASLEEP.[/font][/size][/size][/size]

.....[/center][/b]

Watching Karsten, the brunette was reminded of small child. Which was odd, considering he was about six hundred years older than her. But as he rolled away from her, snatching at the blankets to keep all of the warmth cocooned around him, she found herself imagining him as he might have looked when he was about seven. Smaller, scrawnier, with a rounder face and lighter hair. The warlock suddenly sitting up startled her out of her revelry, and she grinned wickedly when he whined her name in a very displeased tone. “Karsssstttennnn,”

[/b] she mimicked, though she couldn’t manage to imitate his irritation; she was far too amused by his grumpiness, and so her voice held a singsong-y lilt.

He stretched, and Bronwyn was forcibly reminded just how attractive her roommate was: all bronzed skin, muscles, and blonde hair. Not to mention his gorgeous deep purple eyes, and his incredibly infuriating habit of wandering around the house half naked. She pouted for all of three seconds, cursing the sick, twisted higher being who decided it would be a good idea to make such a fine specimen of the male species, deliver him into her lap (figuratively speaking), and then have him be gay. So unfair. Even the voice inside her head had to sigh. She smoothed her features back to something vaguely normal as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, trying to focus on her. She could just tell from looking at him that he was still a bit blurry and fuzzy-headed. Maybe she’d get them both some coffee, a la magic, after she was done scolding him.

“What I want,” Bronwyn started, taking another bite of banana for the sole purpose of drawing this out and therefore preventing him from shrugging her off and falling back asleep. “Is to know why someone-”[/b] She jabbed a finger into his side, her blue eyes narrowing into an accusatory glare. “-decided it would be a good idea to throw a chicken bone in the garbage disposal!”[/b] She threw her hands up in exasperation. “You should know that a measly little garbage disposal isn’t going to grind the bone into dust and then swallow it into the sewers!”[/b] She huffed, crossing her arms. She glared at him for a moment, her roommate, her tutor, her best friend. Sighing, she averted her gaze to look over his shoulder; he was too darn cute with his hair all mussed, a crease on his cheek from his pillow. He looked too innocent to yell at. Finally, she looked back at him, some of the fire inside of her put out.

“You woke me up,”[/b] Bronwyn explained finally. “You left the damn chicken bone in the garbage disposal, and it woke me up, and now I’m making you wake up, too. An eye for an eye, lost sleep for lost sleep.”[/b] She shrugged, munching on the last bit of her banana. With a lazy swish of the wrist, tiny bits of magic ate away at the banana, hopefully sending it into their neighbor’s garbage can. The warlock looked back up at Karsten, smirking slightly. “It was either I wake you up or I crawl into your bed and cuddle so I could fall back asleep.”[/b] She held her hands out innocently. “Decided I didn’t want to get drooled on, so here we are.”[/b]

[/justify][/size]

.....

tagged : karsten, banana
words : five five six
lyrics : “goodnight, moon” by heyhihello
outfit : coming laterrrrrr
notes : i love that you imagine bron as the type to eat yoplait and asparagus sticks XD

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[karsten rené ferdinand]

hey soul sister, ain't that MISTER MISTER

[/b][/size]


[/center]

The sleep Karsten had just rudely been interrupted from clawed at him, begging him to come back. By all means the boy was ready and willing, but the brown-haired nuisance persisted on keeping him awake. Bronwyn had cruelly chose a harsh method: drawing her words out. The more she spoke the heavier his eyelids became. It got to where he just couldn't fight back anymore and succumbed to the temptations of another deep slumber... only to be fiercely poked in the ribs by the other warlock. Bron was starting to get all huffy and puffy, and looked like an adorable puppy fighting with the sprinkler rather than an angry teenager. Her quarrel sent Karsten into a fit of giggles only after futilely trying to repress them back. He hoped the laughter wouldn't make her even more mad, but with his luck so far that day his hopes weren't too high.

Karsten's purple eyes glazed over when the girl explained how she was awoken. "Verdammt," he cursed, instinctively in German, "I thought the garbage disposal had an automatic timer or something." Being a kid from the 1400s, he wasn't used to the mundane lifestyle and technologies quite yet. Fascinated, yes, but not used to them. Very rarely did he know how to operate anything, aside from pressing the button. His shoulder lifted in a soft shrug. As long as the garbage-disposal-bone-ordeal didn't end in the house set aflame, Karsten was happy. He continued to watch Bronwyn scold him in-between bites of her banana. It made the blond realize just how hungry he was, as well as a painful reminder of just how empty their fridge was. He made a mental note to do some shopping that day. Or tomorrow. Tomorrow sounded better.

When the brunette finally finished, Karsten opened his mouth to retaliate. However, a cold and slimy hand grabbed his shoulder, clenching tight against the bare skin. Shivers ran down his spine at the sudden attack, forcing him to jump in surprise. The warlock braced himself to use a spell, only to see that the banana peel had landed on his shoulder from Bronwyn's vanishing act. "You need to work on your spells," he began, taking the advantage of playfully scolding her. With a snap of his fingers the yellow peeling started to shrivel up as if set slowly aflame, leaving nothing behind. Gone forever, never to haunt another shoulder.

"If we use your logic," he continued, mocking Bron's exasperated voice, "then I owe you a tickle fight." Blond eyebrows lurched forward, showing how serious he was. "Eye for an eye, rib poke for a rib poke?" Before she had a chance to yell at him, Karsten lunged towards her and lashed out his fingers, attempting to poke as much of her tummy as possible. There was no way on Earth that she was going to waltz into his bedroom at the crack of dawn, have the audacity to wake him up, prod him in the ribs and expect to get away from it scotch-free. Oh no, not it Karsten's book. Besides, she had the nerve to point out his horrible drooling habits as well. She was gonna get it. As his tickle-fest continued, he playfully spoke in-between laughs, "So what are we gonna do today? You better have something in mind for waking me up so early!"


words; five five eight.
tags; bronwyn, banana peel.
outfit; silver gym shorts.
notes; i know, right? i'm also hoping that bron is ticklish.

[bronwyn elise beckett]

SHE SAID IT’S THREE A.M. AND EVERYONE ELSE IS FAST ASLEEP IN BED
and i can’t seem to find the switch

[/b][/i]
TO TURN THE LIGHTS OFF, EVEN THOUGH I NEED TO FALL ASLEEP.[/font][/size][/size][/size]

.....[/center][/b]

He was giggling at her. Giggling! Bronwyn huffed, blue eyes narrowing into a glare as she clenched her jaw. He’d just woken up; she’d been the one to wake him up. He was just delirious, she decided. She couldn’t snap at him for his delusional little fantasies, not with his brain as drunken with sleep as it was. A muscle in her cheek twitched. She wanted to, oh, she wanted to snap at him so badly. But then he reminded her of his naivety by announcing that he thought that the garbage disposal had an automatic timer. Right. He was old, from a different era where technology wasn’t nearly as advanced. Hell, so was she, but she’d grown up with technology advancing by leaps and bounds; he hadn’t. Her glare lessened in intensity, only a little, as she mentally forgave him for the chicken bone incident.

Then her banana peel appeared out of nowhere and landed on his shoulder. Karsten scolded her, albeit playfully, about needed to work on her spells. “ I know!”

[/b] she half sighed, half groaned, flopping down on his bed. She drew her knees up so that her feet were flat on the mattress, her toes curled in the sheets. The white ceiling swam before her vision, the shadows cast by the sun filtering in through the blinds parading from corner to corner, merging and converging and passing by each other in their endless dance. Bronwyn snapped her eyes closed. It was too much to look at when her brain’s fuel gage was still teetering around empty.

She curled her fingers into fists, pressing her knuckles against her eyelids. Spots of color exploded across the blackness, and she eased up a little; all of the imagery was giving her a headache, a nasty thing that resembled what having a spike driven slowly into her temples would feel like, she imagined. Her magic, or rather, her lack of control over it, was her sore spot. He knew that. “Forty-two years of repressing it…”[/b] She trailed off, unsure of how to describe how difficult, how frustrating, how scary it was to be allowed to use it, to bring it out from wherever it was, hidden and locked deep inside of her, and test its limits. She pulled her hands away from her eyes, slightly, and cast Karsten a sidelong look. The warlock guessed that she looked tired, and not because of her rude awakening this morning.

Even with his fair warning, she wasn’t fast enough. By the time it dawned on her that she was in danger, it was too late to roll out of the way, or prepare a defense, or even grab his hands before he could start torturing her. Karsten lunged, landing lightly and strategically pinning her to the mattress, his fingers probing over her tummy in search of all the sensitive places that made her squirm. “Kars!”[/b] she whined, already succumbing to a fit of giggles as his fingers found her ticklish spots. Laughter bubbled up from her belly, spurred into movement by his tickling. She gasped out protests, pleas for him to stop, in between bouts of laughter and gasps for air. After a good five minutes of wiggling and squirming and begging for him to stop, she finally caught hold of his wrists and, with every ounce of strength that she had in her tiny little body, pushed them out of reaching distance of her torso. She sat up, slowly, still giggling as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Ow, ow, ow!”[/b] she snickered, holding her aching ribs. Bron glanced up at the older warlock, realizing just how close they were, and how warm it had been when he’d been leaning over top of her… The brunette gulped down the last of her laughter, her attraction to him sobering her up better than any amount of time ever could.

"Uhm…”[/b] A blush crept across her face, leaving a pink stain in its place. She really, really hoped that he’d attribute it to, well, she wasn’t really sure what. She just didn’t need him making fun of her for having a crush on him. “We could, uh. We could always work on my spells?”[/b]
[/justify][/size]

.....

tagged : karsten, sexual frustration
words : seven oh two..
lyrics : “goodnight, moon” by heyhihello
outfit : short zebra sleep shorts, purple tank top, dark gray aeropostal hoodie

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[karsten rené ferdinand]

hey soul sister, ain't that MISTER MISTER

[/b][/size]


[/center]

The blonde shook his head, hoping that he wasn't going to come across as the ultimate douchebag. He just could not comprehend why Bron chose to repress her powers. Being the high warlock of the Upper East Side, Karsten nonchalantly used his powers however he pleased. Then again, after six-hundred years of practice, he learned to know and trust them. The frustration and scariness is understandable, but it was something that his brunette roommate would have to overcome. "You really need to embrace your gift," he flatly stated, glancing over at Bronwyn. She seemed so young and helpless, but something in her was begging to learn. Karsten was sure of it. Wait, was that a blush?

Purple eyes examined Bron's face, staring at the pink splotches that stained her facial features. Karsten immediately glanced away, forcing another yawn to boom out from deep within his chest. The male warlock didn't want to make it obvious that he noticed, but Karsten certainly noticed the blushing. But what for? Regardless, the brunette seemed to move on, proposing that the two start working on her spell mastery. He couldn't help but let a cheeky grin spread across his face; Bron had come a long way from wanting to hide her spells altogether. "I think that's a grand idea," he cooed, throwing the last remnants of his blanket off his body and onto the bed. Karsten waltzed over to his small dresser (half stumbling, not yet used to his feet) and yanked the drawer open, thinking of his possible outfits for the day.

This time it was the blonde's turn to blush. As his tiredness cleared his mind, Karsten remembered that he had unsaid things to discuss with Bron. The two were extremely close, and consequently they shared everything. "Oh, I forgot to tell you something," he hurriedly stated, the giddiness shining through. A simple white v-neck stood out to Karsten and he clutched the top, unfolding it from the neat stack of shirts. "I may or may not be interested in this guy..." The warlock trailed off, letting his best friend soak in the new information, especially after noticing the blush. He mentally crossed his fingers, not knowing what to expect. Karsten pulled the shirt over his head and let the fabric fall down to his waistline, covering every bit of his torso. He swung around with another big smile, awaiting Bron's response.




words; four zero zero.
tags; shirt.
outfit; silver gym shorts, white v-neck.
notes; everlasting sexual frustration.

[bronwyn elise beckett]

SHE SAID IT’S THREE A.M. AND EVERYONE ELSE IS FAST ASLEEP IN BED
and i can’t seem to find the switch

[/b][/i]
TO TURN THE LIGHTS OFF, EVEN THOUGH I NEED TO FALL ASLEEP.[/font][/size][/size][/size]

.....[/center][/b]

Embrace her gift? Bronwyn narrowed her eyes in the elder warlock’s direction, biting her tongue to keep from reminding him that up until a few years ago, she’d considered her magic a curse. Something that made her different, out of the norm. Something that her parents had seen in her and frowned upon, because it wasn’t something they’d foreseen for their one and only daughter. They’d wanted her to be perfect, and her magic had been the one flaw that she could never smooth out enough to slip under her parents’ radar. So she’d repressed it. Now that her parents were both dead and out of the picture, coaxing her magic from where she’d hidden it for all those years felt… wrong. There was no other word she could think of to describe the way she felt when she could feel the magic coursing through her, prickling at her veins like static electricity. That surge, that rush of power flowing through her felt wrong. Almost dirty. And that’s why her spells still sucked; whenever she had time to practice them, she didn’t. Yielding her magic always just rubbed her the wrong way, and she could rarely bring herself to use her magic in more than small dosages.

Karsten got out of bed and stumbled over to his dresser, and Bron took the opportunity and the free space to roll over onto her stomach. She propped her head up in her hands, nestling her chin against her knuckles as she watched the blonde sift through his wardrobe. “I may or may not be interested in this guy…” What did he expect her to say in response to that, exactly? Well, obviously he expected her to be happy for him, and curious about who he was crushing on. But honestly. “‘May or may not’ is a lie, because obviously you’re interested in him, otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me.”, “Haha, that’s great Kars! Now my silly little one-sided crush on you is even sillier since you’re well on your way to be even more unavailable!”, and “We can finally go on a double date. You with your almost boyfriend, me with one of my vampire flings. It’ll be a blast!” all rolled around on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed all of those possible responses.

Instead, she opted for something simple and supportive. He’d had the genius idea to smile at her, all goofy and hopeful and love struck, and she just couldn’t disappoint him like that. She’d be a horrible best friend if she did. “What’s his naaaaame?” she sing-songed, cocking her head to the side to let him know just how curious she was. And she really was curious, somewhere underneath all of the bitterness that had surged to the forefront of her emotions. As an afterthought, she added “If you bring him over and I hear anything that I find even remotely disturbing, you’re getting kicked out. No questions. End of story.”

[/b] She smiled sweetly, contradicting her harsh words. Bronwyn really was happy for him, because it was about damn time that he venture out into the dating pool again. For as long as she’d known him, which was probably about seven years, she couldn’t remember him ever having a serious boyfriend. He was over six hundred years old, after all! It was time for him to consider settling down, in Bron’s honest, wants-what’s-best-for-Karsten opinion.
[/justify][/size]

.....

tagged : karsten, sexual frustration
words : five six seven.
lyrics : “goodnight, moon” by heyhihello
outfit : short zebra sleep shorts, purple tank top, dark gray aeropostal hoodie

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[karsten rené ferdinand]

hey soul sister, ain't that MISTER MISTER

[/b][/size]


[/center]

Karsten couldn't help but smile a wide grin at how accepting Bronwyn had reacted about the sudden possible guy in his life. He had expected Bron to be the type of girl that would want to know EVERY bit of information about the new guy, including but not limited to: his social security number, the address he can be reached at, his work experience, every detail about the guy's ex-boyfriends, smoker or non-smoker, and what species he was. However, Karsten was sort of relieved that it hadn't turned into an interview session - then again, he could sit and talk about his new love interest for hours on end if he wanted to. A blush took over his features as he replied to Bron, "His name is," he stopped, hoping to keep the brunette on her toes in a cruel dramatic pause, "Westley!" The giddy side of Karsten, the side he almost never saw of himself, was coming out. Even at the mention of Westley's name, giggles echoed throughout the bedroom. It was a surreal feeling, but it felt... nice.

The blonde's giggle-fit escalated into roars of embarrassed laughter as Bron commented on their sex life and any noises that may follow. "Oh my God, Bron," he turned his face away, not wanting his companion to see his entire face turn into a rosy tomato color. "We aren't even that close!" However, the thought of spending time alone with Westley did sound good right around then... "Well, we aren't that close... yet." Karsten couldn't help but add that last bit in. It's just that he was so excited to finally have a potential boyfriend in his life. It had been years, literally, decades since his last boyfriend. It was about time for the warlock to settle down with someone. It was certainly an odd combination between a werewolf and a warlock, but the blonde thought it was cute. Different. Exciting. All of the above.

Karsten let two fingers creep under the waist band of his gym shorts and slid them down, using his legs to kick them off into a crumpled heap on the floor. He had changed hundreds of times in front of Bron, so he wasn't concerned about anything out of the ordinary. Reaching into his still-open drawer, he plucked out a set of dark blue jeans that accented his white top. The High Warlock of the Upper East Side had a good sense of fashion, if he did say so himself. "So, what are we doing today?" he asked yet again, sliding one leg into the pants. As indecisive as he was, Karsten felt horrible for constantly making Bron pick their activities. "Are we working on your spells?" Another leg. Fastening the button around his waist shut, he reached for a belt in his cluttered drawer. While he dug, he mumbled to his company, "Or do you think you'd be up for that today?"




words; four eight seven.
tags; bron!
outfit; white v-neck, dark blue jeans.
notes; muahahaha.