FLASHBULB MEMORY [EXTRAS]

Character Blurbs

I wrote this as a little character study activity. It's cheesy but it'll give u insight on the squad. Theres spoilers but I changed stuff so it wouldn't be TOO spoil-y. The rest of the spoilers aren't very obvious so if you're worried about that, don't be lol 

____

Seto is a page torn from a book, in possession of the answer but ripped from the question. Bitter candy turned sweet. A need to protect and a need to take. The laughter of children on an old cassette tape. The inability to connect lips to the mind, speaking out of turn. Believing wholly or not at all. Jumping without thought. Don't look down, you might be falling.

Jason is the cracking of ice, seconds from falling through. The warmth from the sun and the smell of asphalt after rain. The mistaking of streetlights for stars. Paper indented with strikethroughs. A longing to understand, to be understood. Flushed cheeks and paper planes. The rocking of swings abandoned in the wind. An overworked mind and glass heart. You wonder which will shatter first.

Adam is the crumbling of ancient statues, stepping stones towards a future. A gaze lingering a second too long. The echoing of a piano, the ghost of a sound which haunts the halls. Beauty hidden beneath dirt. Toy soldiers and scattered crayons. Laughing at shadows and lingering warmth. Fingertips grazing an arm, pulling away at the jolt of contact. Shaking lips and quivering smiles. Messy hair and rubber bands. Grasping your hands so tightly, fingernails scaring your knuckles.

Ty is the crackling of fire and the peaceful silence of a candle. Venom in the tooth of a serpent and the cure in the mind of man. Colorful clips in a little girls hair. The comfort in a cat's purr. A cup of black coffee and the sour of a sucking candy. Braided hair and nimble fingers. The silence following thunder, swallowing with a clogged throat and teary eyes. Broken noses and elbow pads. Starting fights for an excuse to feel. Screaming underwater. One day you will be heard.

Mitch is the breaking of dawn, the orange cast of light. Fidgeting hands grasping for something out of reach. The clattering of silverware and crashing of waves against the earth. A withering teather linking fingers together. The sting of breathing air and the brush of grass against bare legs. The scraping of a leash against the ground, nothing attached to the other end. Ripping words from novels to create new stories. Holding a broken glass so tightly that your fingers bleed.

Jerome is a worn jacket that's impossible to part with, a sense of warmth from days passed. The smell of laundry and hiding under the covers. Boxes taped shut, arrows pointing towards the ground. Fragile, this way up. Hopskotch drawn from chalk on asphalt and eyes darting back and forth. Puzzle pieces scattered across the ground, each from a different picture. Reinvention and Lotus flowers. Dreaming of different times. Will you ever begin to understand?

Ian is the shift between dusk and night, the sudden realization of just how dark it is. Parchment paper and photos with faces scratched out. The skipping of stones on a still lake, an old forgotten toy left in the yard. Hot chocolate with marshmallows and bruised knees. Leaning down to kiss a lover, hands intertwined with hair. Long walks leading nowhere, the scuffing of shoes against gravel. Hands clasped together in prayer. You hope you'll be forgiven.

Quinten is the glow of streetlights as they streak passed a car window, vanquishing the dark for a mere second. The warmth of a stone basking in the sun. Music notes scrawled in the margins of paper. The eerie silence of a hospital wing and the smell of coffee on a sunday morning. The bright orange of a pill bottle, smiling in spite of others. A soft melody, nights you can't seem to remember. Phone calls at 3 a.m. and old cartoons. Growing up so they won't have to. You don't feel like a kid anymore.