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$LAYYYTER
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@becomedeath-blog1
Oh my god. I finally got my computer back, and then I fell into Final Fantasy XV hell.
I’m going to get through drafts before I accept starters, but if you’re interested in eventually having a starter from me just like this post or message me.
hiatus again
ugh so. unfortunately, my computer is broken. I either have to get the hard drive replaced, or get a new one. I’m going to try and sort this out as soon as I can, but it will probably cost me money I don’t have, lol. Hopefully I can get in on some of those black friday weekend deals.
So, I managed to get a new laptop and it should be here by Wednesday. I guess the timing was good because of cyber Monday. I wouldn't have been able to make it happen otherwise. Woo! See you soon.
hiatus again
ugh so. unfortunately, my computer is broken. I either have to get the hard drive replaced, or get a new one. I’m going to try and sort this out as soon as I can, but it will probably cost me money I don’t have, lol. Hopefully I can get in on some of those black friday weekend deals.
five word prompts
[inspired by this]
“actually… i just miss you.”
“alright, i’ll leave you alone.”
“and slowly… i was forgotten.”
“and then everything just disappears.”
“and where do i go?”
“anyone could tell from here.”
“are you finishing that or…?”
“are you stupid or stupid?”
“anything, just call me, okay?”
“bitch better have my money.”
“bro… that’s so… not cool…”
“but did you do it?”
“call me now. it’s urgent.”
“can’t you listen to me?”
“cross that. don’t answer that.”
“don’t even think about it.”
“don’t you dare walk away.”
“do it. i dare you.”
“did you think i forgot?”
“eventually… you just move on.”
“even if you still do.”
“everything will fall into place.”
“fight me, you attractive stranger.”
“for once, i need you.”
“for once… i was right.”
“for once… i was wrong.”
“forget i even asked you.”
“forget it. you fucking suck.”
“fuck’s sake, what’s your problem?”
“fuck off. i mean it.”
“give and take. that’s life.”
“great. perfect. nice. fuck this.”
“have you lost your mind?”
“hello? it’s me. i was-”
“hey… that wasn’t so nice.”
“here’s a glass of whatever.”
“how about a hug, hm?”
“how about you make me?”
“i haven’t forgot you yet.”
“i can’t be around you.”
“i don’t need you, really.”
“i don’t need this now.”
“is this your first time?”
“it’s just a cut, really.”
“it wasn’t me, i swear!”
“i said i love you.”
“just don’t fuck it up.”
“just… come back alive, okay?”
“just make sure you’ve eaten.”
“kick his ass for me.”
“killed him? wait, what, literally?”
“life really sucks. feel better.”
“letting go hurts… a lot.”
“let me live, will you?”
“no, i don’t need you.”
“nothing can hurt me now.”
“nothing matters anymore to me.”
“okay it was me… so?”
“people lie all the time.”
“pipe the fuck down, asshole.”
“please, you can’t die now.”
“please don’t leave me alone.”
“quiet. they can hear us.”
“quick! give me your phone!”
“quicker, you freaking piece of-”
“quit it or i’ll bite.”
“quit staring! they’ll notice us!”
“really? do i look stupid?”
“real smooth, tripping over air.”
“rise and shine, sweet thing.”
“rise and fucking shine, motherfucker.”
“seriously? give me a break.”
“so… what are we now?”
“so… did you miss me?”
“so… can we go eat?”
“so… when’s the next flight?”
“so… how did everything go?”
“sometimes, i wish you died.”
“so what? you did it.”
“time passes slower without you.”
“then what do you suggest?”
“the fuck? who are you?”
“then you tell me why.”
“this is not working out.”
“this isn’t what i wanted.”
“this is all a fucking disaster.”
“when did it all happen?”
“who knew you’d be here?”
“why do i even bother?”
“why do i love you?”
“why didn’t you tell me?”
“you’re just… so, so stupid.”
“you can’t be here now.”
“you look like an accident.”
“you really need to go.”
“you know who to call.”
“zero fucks given. next please.”
ardxs:
(:: T ┼ O ::)
The witch couldn’t help the scoffed breath that escaped her lips, smiling as they were by the time she stepped closer to the fire ( because apparently teen parties were nothing without a bonfire ), if anything to make a big show of the means with which one dainty and fragile looking hand moved to shake her own lit cigarette to rid it of UNNECESSARY ashes. “Why, yes, the devil himself does.” She allowed, finding her head tilting gently to the side as she released the smoke she had inhaled onto a swift little cloud that easily formed beside her, though not ever d a r i n g to look away from the other boy.
“That’s why I’m his favourite.” And it was true, for Thomasin, once innocent, pure and obedient as she had been, had forgone every instance of her innocence upon the continuous claims onto witchcraft that at the moment had NOT been true, but slowly, and with the blood of her mother sprinkled so h o r r i b l y across her face, became the reality of her life upon the discovery of the devil himself. She who had once been the submissive daughter of an exiled man and a desperate mother, with a signed name and a naked flame, had become one of the most powerful witches of her time.
All hail Black Phillip, indeed. “Who are you, then?” She promptly wondered, for if she WAS nosy and careful to know it all, she would not allow herself to let the other go on as what he was if she did not know his n a m e. Simply put, the fact that he hadn’t heard of him alone… well, it was slightly worrisome. She knew of almost all the witches in the world, yet Devil’s favourite or not, she was not PERFECT, nor all knowing, but no reason would stop her from b e c o m i n g thus.
-[ ◘ ]-
"The Devil.”
It wasn’t a question, but an ignorant statement spat from too-white lips, hardly caged by equally white teeth.
Anthony did not consider himself part of some higher calling. He had no coven family or kin to confide in. He saw himself as an unlucky child born on a jinxed Hallow’s Eve, saddled with two shitty providers and a strange gift curse which had brought bloodshed upon him.
The boy was an untrained medium. Power was not an attribute he would associate with his... talent. Though he had felt dangerous, great and terrible on the night he had murdered his step-father, those feelings were overcome only by his own fears. Anthony had not suspected the possibilities of magick flowing through his veins, or the craft nestled deep in the marrow of his bones.
He would have scoffed perhaps, if only the girl had taken her gaze off him. For the more she stared, the less he felt the need to hold up defenses. Slowly, ‘nosy’ became ‘interested’ and for a fleeting moment he felt powerless-- resigned to the idea that if he didn’t tell her, she would somehow find out anyway.
“...Anthony,” he said, swinging back the rest of his beer. He’d meant to break whatever spell she’d cast then than there, but found himself drawn once more to look her in the eye. It was almost like channeling spirits, like feeling as if you didn’t belong in your own body.
“Uhm. I talk to the dead, I guess.”
The language of flowers.
absolutxangel:
Each time Apadiel climbs the stairs to knock at the door of the apartment above the bookshop, it gets a little easier. He opens the door, lets her in, and for each time that he does, she is more confident that he won’t turn her away.
Tonight, it’s clear out, a heavy silver moon hanging above the rooftops, reflecting light into through the windows. Apadiel is careful as she moves around the apartment. She’s nervous, unable to settle right away, always this worry that this will be the time she is too much for Anthony to allow her to stay.
It is during this restless wandering around the edges of the apartment that she happens on a guitar. It’s a beautiful instrument, but she is surprised to find it in tune when she picks it up and runs her fingers over the strings.
“Is this yours? Do you play?”
@becomedeath
The Reaper watches her as she surveys his things, touches his possessions. She’s fond of his books; he knows this. She takes it upon herself to know his comings and goings, (to have eyes on anything that isn’t human); he doesn’t believe that he minds.
The guitar.
White lips purse and he nods.
He hasn’t played in a long time. Not since his joy slipped through his skeletal, starving grasp. Long ago, Anthony had fallen for a soul he had been made to help cross over, however the two of them proved selfish and defiant of fate. Four years they would spend together--
And of course now he is alone.
Anthony is caught between an extraordinary loss and living with the pain of knowing he is the cause of such.
“I had a friend who liked music,” he provides with a bit of a smile, a fond memory on the tip of his tongue.
“Do you want to hear something?”
tag dump for my relationship posts with @fracturedportrait @absolutxangel @cherubchoking and @candyapplefrank ... I definitely have some more muses that I want tags for, but that will be done in time.
flamedamaged:
Rubber band , armed && ready. “ Where are you hiding the food ? “ Cue her stomach rumbling , confirming her hungry state.
› › @becomedeath ▌ Established relationship. ( accepting. )
“Don’t even try--”
He eyed the rubber-band gun, but was smiling anyway as he shrugged his backpack off one shoulder; swung it around to his front. “You’re lucky I’m the greatest shoplifter in town.”
Having some dinner, and then I should be around to get to those starter calls and drafts.
becomedeath:
Okay. I will do a starter call because my follower count jumped for some reason. Shit. Thanks?!!? Wow!!!??
I’ll probably get to them all tomorrow though. Work killed me and I’m just a ghost now.
Like this post for a starter.
becomedeath:
Okay. I will do a starter call because my follower count jumped for some reason. Shit. Thanks?!!? Wow!!!??
I’ll probably get to them all tomorrow though. Work killed me and I’m just a ghost now.
Like this post for a starter.
@ardxs
( ANTHONY ) »» @becomedeath (:: T ┼ O ::) They were her eyes, big beautiful orbs that they were, that focused on the other entirely; from head to toe, studying him and the means with which he looked, walked and talked. Such appearances that didn’t entirely mean onto anything but an offensive truth of what a witch was supposed to be: he dressed exactly the way people in such modern societies THOUGHT witches would; all black, all punk, all metal, as she had come to learn. Not that she didn’t like those kinds of music, but her clothes did not r e f l e c t it. After all, Black Phillip had promised a delicious living, rich with many more things than material boxes full of objects, dresses and money, and those powers she held in his name… well, they drove her onto the means to carry herself in nearly a royal means. Though, yes, her clothes were mostly black as well, she did not forbid her now long gone INNOCENCE from showing onto her figure once in a while ( it worked to fool some people during the witch trials and many more other things ), so dresses, dainty little g a r m e n t s, they covered her frame every single day. Nothing to ever give way to the reality of what she was. It was for it that, when she finally looked into the other’s eyes, the corrupted witch released a sigh, even if the corners of her lips lifted as sultrily as she nearly now always allowed.“Could you be more obvious, though?” She wondered, still thankful to have found someone such as her, if only so she didn’t have to PRETEND to be all innocent all the time. “Anybody else know what you are, or just me?” Though, with those clothes, a few people definitely had to s u s p e c t it, right? That is… if those people even believed in such things. -[ ◘ ]-
A party? Sure.
Anthony had been to countless parties. School parties, basement parties, secret shows, parties-that-he-had-to-sneak-into. All of it was really a blur. Himself, James, and some of the other kids who bounced from home to home, shelter to shelter always sauntered in smelling of pot, cigarettes, and usually alcohol. They always arrived together, but went their separate ways towards the end of things, always catching up a few days later to recount and then jump back into the fray.
It was one of those times where the music got too loud, when the people too belligerent and the words too fake. Anthony tiptoed through the kitchen, past a couple making out (a little too loudly) on the counter. He eyed them warily while liberating two bottles of beer from the fridge and then slipping soundlessly out the screen door and onto the back porch. There, he lit up a cigarette and cracked open beer number one on the concrete.
He was seventeen. Young in theory, weary in experience. Still reeling with the knowledge of what he was capable of, covered still in black and red makeup, huddled into his sweatshirt and protected by a stale veil of cigarette smoke.
When he realized he had company, Anthony’s expression twisted. He took a swig of his beer, cigarette pinched between two fingers while the other three gripped the cold bottle. His hand bore a mark, a knotted ugly scar that he’d apparently attempted to draw attention from with back alley tattoos.
He’d been enjoying the silence, until now.
At first, it didn’t matter to the boy that she was dressed in pretty things, (lots of shitty people were capable of dressing nicely), but he caught the way her lips had curled, soft and pink, attractive even in the harsh yellow light of the porch-- or maybe it was just the beer.
Her accusation had him turn his head, set the beer down on the step and took a great, scowling drag on his cigarette, facial piercings (lip and nose) glinting in the light.
“Does anybody else know that you’re a nosy little brat?” He asked.
What kind of person just... fucking... assumes that kind of shit?
//Thinking aloud here. I feel bad making a headcanon that’s so broad but... I’m thinking about witches in general and the way I portray them/portray Tony... like, witches that are tied to fandom. I think that... female witches will always be more powerful/the craft would come more naturally to them than males. (Maybe this isn’t the case in say... Harry Potter). But, if we’re talking about something like AHS, the supreme will always be a female and men are capable of being gifted, but it’s more rare.
Even if they are powerful (ie. Tony has the capacity for power), control of their gifts doesn’t come as easily and their gifts are definitely more volatile. I want to... think on this.
Okay. I will do a starter call because my follower count jumped for some reason. Shit. Thanks?!!? Wow!!!??
I’ll probably get to them all tomorrow though. Work killed me and I’m just a ghost now.
Like this post for a starter.
