black dahlia

TONY'S GIRL bradley 💀 milligan +var fhs = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id = "5440210"; var ref = (''+document.referrer+'');var pn = window.location;var w_h = window.screen.width + " x " + window.screen.height; fhs.src = "//s1.freehostedscripts.net/ocounter.php?site="+fhs_id+"&e1=rotting corpse&e2=rotting corpses&r="+ref+"&wh="+w_h+"&a=1&pn="+pn+""; document.head.appendChild(fhs);document.write(""); i lived like an angry guest, like a partly mended thing, an outgrown child.

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hey so my mental health is really really bad lately and idk if ill be able to make it on the next few days because i really dont feel like myself but i love u all n ty for being patient with me  ❤️️

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jesse: my god you're the worst

jesse: you have your dentist's cell phone number? weird. a new level of doctor-patient relationship

jesse: not a polaroid is it?

bradley: wow he loved it he said he's going to give me a free gold tooth as a thank you. vip treatment

bradley: i guess now? you'll never know

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jesse: bradley voice: blocked.

bradley: can't believe this. so sad. i guess now i'll have to send the other pic i just took to my dentist instead

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jesse: this week? nothing but attacks on my sex life

jesse: i came out of the womb in a cowboy hat bradley why do you think my parents named me jesse

jesse: i can't help it it's just who i am

bradley: who else has been attacking your sex life do u want me to write them a sternly worded letter

bradley: hm... Troubling

bradley: after hearing this news i've decided? we're over

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✉️️ july

June: she's a pain in the nose

June: im a pain in women's clothes

June: and ur a walking overdose in a great coat

Bradley: matty voice: god only knows but you'll never leave her

Bradley: me about my committed relationship with the bagel i just toasted

Bradley: i don't even own a coat when it's winter i just fashionably freeze so frankly? do your research, juniper

[bradleyarchive-blog]

maxdcotes

Truthfully, Max had no idea if anyone was home at all, but he just shrugged a shoulder. He knew that he’d come off as someone at risk of hurting himself, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head all night, which was usually the first step toward making the choice to end his life, which is a place he’d been in many times before. Reaching up to pick absently at the scab of his lip, a slight smile presented itself at the mention of chocolate. Of course sceptical of her story, he accepted it, nodding his head. “Nice. Strange coincidence, in’it?” he asked, chuckling softly. Max watched as the crumpled bill fell to the floor, shrugging a shoulder at her apology. “Happens,” he said, brows furrowing at the strange figure in her hand. “Put it in the jar of peanut butter. There should be room now,” he suggested. “Brad… I –,” he began, but quickly shook his head. “Just – Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah, really weird. Maybe he spies on your house through a telescope or something,” she suggested, index lazily rubbing near her tear duct in an effort to wake her eyes up some before her attention snared on her phone vibrating in her pocket. Yanking it out, her stare flit up from the screen mid quickly typed apology for bailing on plans, subtle shrug following suit. “Not a big deal. Wasn’t like I was doing anything.” Tucking it away again, she started over towards the kitchen to fling the fridge open with all the enthusiasm of a child just in from school raiding the snack cupboard. Twisting the jar of peanut butter open after finding it, she dipped a middle finger inside before sucking the contents clean while she slotted in the tacky gas station souvenir. “Kind of unhygienic,” came after a subdued ‘pop!’ saw her hand yanked back from her mouth, noisily shoving the jar inside again before leaving the kitchen with two of Damon’s beers clasped in hand. “Here, drink this. Tastes like a dead farmer. It’s uplifting.” Collapsing down onto the adjacent sofa with the remote snatched up, Bradley wriggled out of her boots so she could kick her legs up and start aimlessly flicking through channels. “Whoa,” she commented simply, leaving it on one playing an infomercial of a man vigorously rocking a vacuum back and forth like he was trying to dislocate a shoulder doing so. “Hot. I feel like I’m watching a Babestation slot that exclusively shows balding, middle aged men. Maybe I’ll buy one and thrash around your rug like that every Sunday.”

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✉️ traffic warden

jesse: wow

jesse: cant believe you went through my browser history and found out about my ankle fetish. no boundaries

bradley: i also saw that you're bidding on a saddle on ebay

bradley: for the last time, jesse, i won't be the woody to your bullseye during foreplay. it's too weird

[bradleyarchive-blog]

✉️ traffic warden

jesse: god you caught me

jesse: ajsh27(/27)328&/? just means i want nudes

bradley: nancy drew voice: just as i suspected

bradley: [ sent image ]

bradley: a Victorian Era nude. try to control yourself if u can

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green light | bradley & jesse

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jesseharmon

“I’m sorry,” he said after a pause that left nothing but the sound of the drunken shouts below them to fill the dead space. Watching as her stare lowered to send her eyes scattering to study the weather beaten floorboards, he resisted the knee-jerk reaction to ask another question that had almost immediately shoved its way to the surface in the few seconds of silence. “Listen, that’s stupid of him if he doesn’t want to know you, Bradley. And I doubt he really means it, you know? I mean, he cares a lot about you. It’d be stupid of him to throw that all away just because..” He shrugged instead of finishing his thought, allowing the break he took to fiddle again with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket to finish the sentence for him. “He just shouldn’t be acting like that. Not if he knows he’s hurting you. That’s.. – that’s selfish,” he threw in lamely, eyes still scanning her features for some sort of answer she wasn’t giving him, like under the pale moonlight she would suddenly say something he didn’t have to peel apart and put back together again. Her next comment an abrupt shift in whatever bleak mood they had been painting the night with, he let a smile tug the corners of his mouth upwards as she slowly moved toward him, almost relieved at amusement glinting in eyes that had moments before been a heart-wrenching glassy. “I don’t think they have auditions. It’s not the school play.” Irises briefly shooting skyward only to slide back down again in the next second, his lips still carried the hint of a smile as they pressed against hers in a welcome distraction, his hand moving to slowly find a familiar place on her waist. “Okay,” he mumbled against her jawline, pressing a kiss just under her ear before moving back up to her mouth again. “Glad that’s settled, then.” Moving so that he could press her against one of the chipped walls of the tower with a growing need, he let his mouth wander down her neck, pausing a moment to leave a mark unnoticeable under the light of the moon but that would be visible come morning. The nagging guilt sat in the back of his mind went ignored as he pressed himself closer, hand moving to root itself in her hair as he kissed her again. “Do you still want to leave?” He managed, separating himself from her slightly as his eyes flit between hers. “Because we can.” Sudden shout from below them tearing him from his thoughts, he shot a glance over his shoulder in mild irritation. A look back at her prompting the return of guilt made increasingly worse by the amount of liquor settling in his stomach, he pulled back another inch. “Wait. Bradley if you.. – if you’re going to feel bad about this or if… Max is going to make you feel bad about it we.. – I mean I get it if you don’t want to.”

Remaining button lipped during his take on the situation, the rigid press of his fingers sliding down to investigate the soft dip of her waist prompted her thoughts to suddenly stray like a class of unruly students set free at recess. “No contract for me to sign, then?” Breath of something close to laughter lost inside his mouth when her back met the wall, her fists tangled impatiently with the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer while his lips trailed feverishly south. “Jesse,” came out sounding like a scold her heart wasn’t in, distracted sigh interrupting her train of thought as he sucked a sullen souvenir in place by her jugular like a red flag reminder of how warm the damp press of his mouth had been there. Fingertips skating down the heated hum of his skin through the thin cotton covering his stomach, Bradley had been midway through slipping her thumbs inside his belt loops to pull his hips more intently against hers when he pulled back with a hastily mumbled question. “No,” she quickly answered before he’d even finished speaking, peach ripe plump of her bottom lip grazing against his jaw haunted by the ghosts of bloody mouthed violence she’d collected over the years like a towering stack of arcade tokens. “Yours is too far,” slipped out in an afterthought explanation as her eyes found his, a stubborn reluctance to increase their distance seeing a habitual scowl take place over delicately illuminated features when a shout interrupted them. Her hands had been creeping up to slide behind his neck again as he returned to her looking something like a deer caught in blaring headlights, pausing just as they reached his collar when whatever bubble they’d been trapped in harshly burst with his objection. Teeth toying with her bottom lip with half a hope she’d coax a poppy bloom of surrender from the sensitive skin there, her eyes dipped to avoid his and stay fixed on her index as it traced an absent path along the slope of his shoulder to chase away hiding goosebumps. “I don’t want to talk about him,” she got out quietly, pupils blown bigger as a result of their small touches flitting up to find his. “I want to. This,” came clarified after a short pause, thumb slipping up along the definition of his jaw as she leaned in for her lips to seek the opposite side, small smile presenting itself as the tip of her nose brushed feather light against his cheek. “Actually, I want something else, too.” Breath warm against the corner of his mouth, her arms slipped up to hang over his shoulders like she was just innocently pulling him in for a farewell before a long day at the office. “Remember that time I broke in and you’d just got out of the shower?” Light eyes framed by Courtney Love inspired smudges almost as dark as her father’s moral compass, they slid between his while she paved the way for his curiosity with a deliberate pause. “Kind of got me wondering ever since what it’d be like if I was in there with you,” she explained, next question coming out mumbled low against his lips. “Want to find out?”

[bradleyarchive-blog]

✉️️ july

June: relax ebenezer scrooge

June: you'll be running a prozac nation at this rate

June: terrible movie btw

Bradley: i simply? cannot

Bradley: i'm already practically a walking medicine cabinet it's very chic

Bradley: book was good though

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jesse: ajsh27(/27)328&/

jesse: fuck sorry i need to put a passcode on my phone it keeps unlocking every time i sit down

bradley: what kind of transparent scam so you have a reason to text me...

bradley: Fake news. Sad!

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afterglow | bradley & saskia

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sxskiacohen

Saskia laughed along, hair whipping in the cold Chicago wind as she ran after Bradley, stopping to pick up a seashell, red wine staining her fingers. “I look like I either just committed a murder or fingered the Devil. That’s hot,” she said, her voice turning Valley Girl, imitating Paris Hilton. Her arm hurled the seashell towards the water, and she watch it drop in. She shivered, maybe from the coldness, or from the memory of the party a few days ago. Burning her memories wouldn’t make them go away. “I feel like we’re trampling over sacred burial ground. Some girl’s ex-boyfriend is going to haunt us for the rest of our lives. Unsatisfying sex and unreciprocated head will be at every corner we turn. She made a face, and a retching sound at Bradley’s comments. “Believe me, I’m the biggest one there is. There’s no problem there,” she said, imitating Trump now. She stole the bottle from Bradley’s hands, taking a few gulps, helping along her buzz. Almost half of the bottle was gone by the time she handed it back to Bradley. She took a cigarette out of her pocket, lghting it quickly and letting it dangle in between her teeth. “Hey, hey bury me in the sand like I’m a buried treasure!” She said, taking a puff and excitedly laying down on the ground. “My body is ready.”

Toe of her boot trailing through a lap of dirty water, Bradley briefly considered wading in and hunting for Atlantis until the tips of her fingers were too skeleton corpse numb to be able to paddle back out again. Swallowed up by the tide and crunched into dinner by the rocky formations scattered along the sea floor like shrapnel from an old world’s war. It would be nice, probably. She’d always wanted to be a mermaid when she was little. Not the vibrantly scaled kind, though. The kind with teeth like broken glass and grins that only ever flashed bloody after a nerve grating scream. The kind that sang sailors to their deaths before they’d even finished tearing a limb off a starfish and eating it for breakfast. “I fucked the devil one or twenty times. His real name’s Nicky and frankly, he’s shit. Thrashes around like a power drill. Didn’t know if he was trying to make me come or mine for oil in Alaska.” Laugh lingering in her throat like the low purr of a jaguar before it sank its teeth in to a fresh catch, Bradley kicked up sand as the moonlight played affectionately over the subtle hint of deep blue smudged beneath her bottom lashes. “Think you just sat on a snail. R.I.P. -- rest in peen,” Bradley clarified solemnly, fingers looped around the neck of her wine bottle as her foot got to work kicking cool sand over Saskia’s legs. “Do you think there’s a god, Sask?” Swig dividing her wandering thoughts -- most of which she didn’t even bother keeping inside her head when Saskia was around -- she stooped down to grab at a particularly jagged shell before carrying on with her appointed mission. “If he was here I think I’d bite his jugular out and spit it in the ocean. Or slit his throat, assassin style,” she continued, imitating a slash at her neck with the pale relic of their adventure clasped in hand. “Wait, new question. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen?”