[deathcalleds]

#𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐒   .    .    .    .    an         independent,         highly         selective,         &         borderline         private         original         character         inspired         by         various         horror         media.         triggering         &         usfw         content         will         be         discussed         &         dissected.         tread         with         caution.         loved         &         adored         by         morgue.         a         study         in         religious         trauma,         embracing         change,         making         friends         with         death,         &         grieving         someone         still         living. 

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃     –     𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄     –     𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒     –     𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒.

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋   : @whatichose , @sickrots , @glowslikegolds , @lustcalleds

[whatichose-deactivated20260427]

feeling. crunchy here as of late. across blogs, truly. if i am honest.

i'm moving blogs. shocker. but keeping it very cute and very private for the sake of my sanity. if you are interested in keeping up with writing with me, please let me know and i'll send you the URL <3 much love.

[floodflameschosen]

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[floodflameschosen]

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[graspedribs]

he just stopped being, as far as he was concerned. teddy was a memory. for all intents and purposes, matt succeeded. he died there, in that shitty fucking fieldstone basement. and now he was here, alone, and waiting to be put out of his misery. he's so tired. he's so broken. he's so lonely. he used to count the days. he used to wonder how long it would take until he could go home. around day two hundred and twenty six, he gave up. he knew he wasn't going home. he remembered the family money that was always flashed in his face, the shifty way matt described the people he worked with. maybe money was one of the reasons he lost it all. because nobody cared about what he said happened – he always had enough money to make it go away. their fingers zip together, and brown eyes focus on all of the places he never used to have to think about. the places where smooth skin has given way to scars, the shape of the knife that passed through his palm like cutting flesh from bone was the easiest thing in the world. it broke – it all broke – he always broke. crumbled under the weight of hard knuckles against smooth skin, the way that bones fractured into shards and splinters. i don't know what to say. it lands too heavy and he knows it. it's all too much. he hates how badly it all hurts– hates how much he wants to cry– hates remembering what it felt like to be loved when he knew all he had left now was to be alone. "i –" he starts, but he's trying so hard not to crumble into nothingness. he's breaking under the pressure. he's crumbling underneath it all. "yeah." he mumbles, eyes still focused on their hands. he can't possibly look up, when he's still cataloguing all of the ways in which everything has changed. he used to be so carefree. now he can't be. luke asks if he's been alone, and it stirs something hot and awful in his chest. he knows that his entire world is coming apart right now, and he still has the sense to ask. it hurts. it all fucking hurts. "have you spoken to my sister ?? is she okay ??" his voice cracks. he misses everyone so much. "and evan ?? and my mom ??"

[deathcalleds]

Guilt was not something that felt digestible.

Luke isn't clear on how the guilt comes. It's quick and loaded with enough pain to take him out. Was there something more he could have done to have prevented all of this? If he had done more to keep Teddy beneath his thumb, maybe none of this would have ever happened. It's broken thinking, but he clings to it. It tears him apart and makes ruins of the partially delegated peace that he had struggled to find. Luke can't sit with those thoughts for too long without suffering the consequences.

Luke doesn't want to know what brought this on. Ignorance is the only way he can find the strength to sleep. To eat. To simply keep his fucking head above the water. Teddy asks about his family, and it breaks something deep within Luke. He's quiet, not looking at anything in particular. His vision blurs, and the familiar heat builds behind his eyes. He doesn't want to cry. God, he's tired of crying. It takes everything in him to hold himself together in the wake of his own self-procured silence.

"They're okay as they can be, Teddy." His voice struggles to remain strong, wavering, and unbalanced beneath the heaving weight of his own sorrow. Luke spares himself the tears, wiping them away with the back of his free hand. His head falls back, leaning against the headrest as a bellowing sigh emits from the depths of his lungs. He wants nothing more than to be rid of this harrowing feeling, but it's far too complicated to simply wish away. "You might not be around physically, but your memory lives forever." It's hard to force the words out, and he keeps quiet enough for just the two of them to hear.

[prcperdose]

"i mean like– yeah, man, i used to say that about his birthday too." a beat and a laugh, "i bought him a helmet and goggles once. which he NEEDED, mind you. and he went to rei the next day, returned it, and then stapled the cash to the WALL of my bedroom." and then he smiles conspiratorially. "but since you'll definitely have more luck than i do– he like really a new suitcase. he's been dragging that same duffle bag around since freshman year. i think the handle is disintegrating." teddy's going to kill him. "and he's always eyeing this jeweler he walks by on the way to work, he has this chain from his mom that broke a few years ago, and he won't just let me pay to fix it. used to wear that thing every day."

[deathcalleds]

Luke silently takes notes, nodding as Evan speaks. It's good to know that Teddy isn't just particular when it comes solely to him. "You know, it does make me feel better that he's not just like that with me. I was starting to take it personally." Luke laughs, though his words hold truth. He figures it's something that comes with time, and he makes every effort to bite back his urge to take care of, quite literally, everything for Teddy. "Thanks, Evan. I appreciate your help. God knows I couldn't just flat out ask Teddy without it being, like, y'know – a whole fuckin' thing."

[graspedribs]

he's being such a little shit, he knows that. but leaning in is fun, and he's tired of everything sucking all the time. "absolutely did." a smirk, and the shove feels like affection.he's so happy right now. "yes. and ??"

[deathcalleds]

Luke revels even under the grating experience of Teddy finding solace beneath his skin. It's always welcome, that much has always been clear. Luke rolls his eyes, but it's no match for the smile that remains permanently placed upon his lips. He throws an arm around Teddy's shoulders, pulling him close and pressing a chaste kiss to the top of his head. "You're annoying, and I love you dearly."

[imprcperdose]

teddy never expects the way the center falls out in his own head. he never knows how to cope with it – he never knows how to fix things when they all fall apart beneath him. its too HARD. he's too used to everything HURTING all the time. perhaps that was why he had done this dance with luke for so long. whatever it was that they were doing, anyways. he didn't know how to name it, he just knew that it existed. there was something safe about being the object of affection to someone who lived so far away. and like – yeah, the thought process is fucked up. this idea he settled on so long ago now, where there was never enough TIME for hurting him the way he was used to to be worthwhile if he lived so far. if they were never together LONG ENOUGH. but when he moved out here – which had nothing to do with luke he swears – that excuse went thin and see through. the guaranteed safety of being able to run had been abandoned for proximity, he was starting to lose himself in the way emotion overwhelmed him in a way that he hasn't experienced in a long time. so maybe he just wants to steel himself against it a little while longer, before he has to think about memorizing the feeling of luke's knuckles against his cheek bones and calling it love. maybe he just wants to live in this world he's built himself where he can pretend that love letters and kicks to his ribcage aren't the same thing.

he doesn't know how to explain what happened. he doesn't know how to explain the way that the moment that reverence and worship shifts from physical to something as tangible as cashflow, he knows that he's on his way towards destruction. and sure, no one's ever taken as much physical care of him as luke has, he holds him through the comedown and he presses praise into parts of teddy that have never seen the light of day. GOD, and he loves it so desperately. can't he hold on just a little longer to this dream that he has before everything falls apart ?? would that be accceptable ?? is it enough ??

luke's voice sounds tight, and teddy tries desperately to keep REMINDING himself that it's not because he's LYING. that reminder falls on deaf ears. it all might as well be broken and desperate and damaging, because teddy doesn't know what he can trust anymore. you have no idea how much you deserve it. it doesn't land. he can't let it land. because he won't take the blindside well when it comes– it'll wreck him and he can't put his life back together again. inked hands cradle his face, gentle and kind, and for an instant, before he remembers that he shouldn't, he leans into the contact. he's trying so desperately to commit this to memory, so that when everything breaks he can still remember why he did it. remember why he wanted enough to let himself get hurt.

who did this to you?? god, even the question burns against his skin. like all he is these days is some broken shell of a victim. like he shouldn't have known better. like it's not his fault. when it all HAS TO BE, right?? a broken, shuttering breath tumbles between his lips, and brown eyes swim with guilt. who made you think love has to hurt to count ?? a pitiful, angry laugh parts plush lips, bitten red and angry and please can't he just fix this stupid fight on his knees ?? can't he just let worship pour from him and pretend he doesn't need to keep confronting this awful, gnawing guilt that stirs beneath his skin ?? why can't he just have some PEACE?? a hard swallow, and his voice shakes when it finally tumbles from him. "because love is VIOLENT." it's not an answer to the question. he doesn't care. "loving ME is violent !! i make people crazy and i deserve what i get for it." god – it's so pathetic even when it's pouring from his lips. he hates this part. where people find out he's tricked them into believing he's something he's not. believing he's worthy when all he ever has been is a means to an end.

luke's hands pull back, and he braces himself for impact. of course he does. because teddy doesn't know a world without violence. but the impact never comes, and instead luke's arms wrap around him, stable and grounding and comfortable. like WORSHIP. it makes his heart ache in his chest, and the worlds pull from him before he can pull them back in. "i'm sorry."

[deathcalleds]

There is nothing that could be changed about their respective pasts, and Luke has accepted that for what it was. Teddy has seen darkness and allowed himself to be consumed by it, just as Luke has done the same. It's a crushing revelation because Luke is firm on his belief that Teddy has only deserved devotion. To think that Teddy has endured something vastly different only makes him ache with a guilt that should not be his own. For someone whom Luke finds to be the most beautiful person, both inside and out, it feels criminal to consider they'd been subjected to such horrors. It only provokes Luke's desire to be the light, even if it is often faced with a fight like tonight.

He doesn't care. He'd fight all night had it meant it would drive his point. Teddy was so fucking stubborn to the point where it silently drove Luke into madness. Frustration simmers, and it builds to the point where Luke is left with no choice but to fully come apart at the seams. All he's ever wanted for Teddy is for him to find peace. Solace. Comfort. Something that contrasted with whatever reality he had known in the past.

Luke is quiet. What could be said to that? No words could manage to prove the theory wrong. Loving Teddy was never violent to Luke. As much as Teddy pushed his buttons, it would never succumb to such a thing as violence. Luke frowns, knowing the implications of Teddy's words.

"Love is not violent." A beat. "Loving you is not violent." As calm as Luke is, and as firm as his voice sounds, he feels the polar opposite of such things. It pains him to consider the aftermath of Teddy's trauma – and how that bleeds heavily into whatever dynamic they shared, now. "I don't know who convinced you that you deserved any of that, Teddy, but I need you to fucking trash the idea of you deserving violence." It's not a want. It is not a desire. It is a necessity, and the way that Luke's tone doesn't waver is a testament to that notion.

Luke's smothering embrace tightens. He feels too much, all at once, and it makes his head spin. "I don't want you to apologize." The words are muttered against Teddy. "I just want you to try to abandon the idea that you aren't deserving of my love." He pauses, silent for a moment as he holds back the weight of his own feelings. "That you do, in fact, deserve love. Not violence. That the two of those things are not the fucking same."

[loudbarks-arch]

it had been touch and go since the beginning — whatever this was. moments of unbearable closeness followed by the kind of silence that made her stomach twist. they kept circling, orbiting, waiting for the other to name it or break it or run. frankie wasn’t used to wanting someone like this, wasn’t used to someone wanting them like this and still staying. there had always been conditions before. expectations. men who only liked her when she was wild and flammable and easy to misinterpret. women who tried to tame them. people who wanted the legend, not the person beneath it. but luke had never asked her to shrink. he didn’t flinch when they got messy or cruel or quiet. didn’t pull away when she gave too much or not enough. and maybe that was what scared them most — how easy it was to want him. how natural it felt to fold herself into his space, to let him carry some of the weight she usually held with white-knuckled fists. whatever they were becoming, it felt like walking toward the edge of a cliff with your eyes wide open. and still, they kept going. the night air wraps around them the moment they step outside, crisp and sobering. she barely hears the hum of the city behind them, too focused on the press of his arm across her shoulders and the low thrum of his words still echoing through her. ruin me. it unspools something inside them, a heat that rises quick and sharp. she turns in front of him, and for once, doesn’t hesitate. "okay," they say simply, just before grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him down. she kisses him hard, reckless, her mouth finding his like it had been waiting for this all damn night. there’s nothing soft about it — the way they press him against the nearest wall, their fingers sliding into his hair, and the deliberate grind of their hips into his. it’s a kiss with intent. a promise. a warning. the moment doesn’t break, even when she pulls back just slightly, her breath warm against his lips. "uber’s three minutes out," they murmur, pupils blown wide. "if you’re lucky, i won’t make you beg again." her mouth curls, smug and hungry, and she doesn’t move from where she has him pinned — not until the headlights sweep around the corner.

[deathcalleds]

Luke has learned to surrender. What would be, would be, and what would not would simply diminish beneath the weight of the world. As much as he burned for things to play out in his favor with Frankie, he knew better than to put the weight of his desires into something so feeble. Relationships and their movement often felt like a curse. Something that was destined to fail before Luke ever gave it the power to. Something gives way with Frankie, and he can no longer stomach the thought of his forced indifference to claim stake. He would be the one to determine the outcome of whatever they shared, even if it played out against his favor. Frankie had proven, time and time again, that they were worth that risk.

It was impossible to pretend that their friendship did not bleed any deeper. He ached for them in ways that went beyond what could bind two souls as gentle companions. It was messier. Dirtier. More honest, more raw, than he would have liked. If they were to sink into something complicated, he would be content to do so if it meant having them beside him. It's a selfish thought to harbor, but he's never been one to pride himself on full and total selflessness.

The brisk wind is a reminder of sobriety that begs to be felt beneath the stifling weight of his consumption. The taste of their mouth hangs heavy, and Luke melts into their kiss. It feels too good to deny himself the honor of having more. God only knows how much more Luke wants. His back collides with the wall, and his hands grip her like she may dissipate beneath gentle touch.

The kiss breaks, and he almost whines about it. Fuck it, he's greedy. Rightfully so. "I'll beg all night, if that's what you ask of me."

[imprcperdose]

if teddy reframed the way that luke looked at him, maybe it wouldn't have felt so uncomfortable. if he could reframe love from violence to consumption, maybe it wouldn't feel like such a threat, because teddy has always wanted WORSHIP. a brief moment of want flits through his chest, but he shoves it away. because it's not the usual wanting he's used to. it feels deeper. heavier somehow. and that, somehow, feels like too much. luke's devotion might be deeper than fucking him to tears, but teddy's feelings tend to run a lot closer to reverence than they do to desire. he just keeps ignoring it.

knees hit wood laminate, and he doesn't even notice if hurts. he's too desperate and wanton, body tight with desire that coils all the way through his body and pours out of every piece of him. every touch feels heavy and weighted with WANT in a way that he hasn't had to grapple with in a long time. but if he keeps his emotions far enough from him, maybe he won't NEED to be afraid of everything that could go sideways. maybe someday he'll TRUST the sheer mass of these feelings that exist between them, built on years of wanting and flirting, could mean more than his destruction.

there's this gnawing need to be good. to be hot. to be useful. it coils in his bones and rips through his body. luke's hand, tangled and tight in his hair inspires a broken whine, breath shuttering and desperate. he wants so badly to be an object of luke's every whim and desire. brown eyes stare up through his lashes at like, needy and desperate. fingers pull on his pants until they're pooled on the floor. luke makes him feel so unmoored. like there's nothing but this. and GOD, teddy hates how badly he loves it – like it's a threat instead of a promise. open mouth kisses press into the inside of luke's thighs in an instant, hot and sloppy and needy. he like kind of wants to drag his tongue over the outlines of EVERY one of luke's tattoos, but he holds back, if only to keep himself from losing it.

hands calloused and wild trip and stumble with heat, and finally lips find purchase at the inside of luke’s though. his ands keep moving, tracing the outline of his cock through his boxers. it’s all so easy and desperate and wonderful all at once. when he pulls away from the sensitive skin and the inside of luke’s thigh, his breath pours hot and shaky into his bulge. “prettier when you fuck my face.” he replies, voice wrecked at the edges. he means it, wholeheartedly. the hands in his hair tug again, and he needs the desperation to feel just as overwhelming for luke as it does for him. so his mouth moves a quickly face pressed into the soft cotton that covers him, dampening in part because of luke’s raw wanting, and in part because of his own. “please—please fuck my face baby. please.” the request fumbles him with desperate religious fervor. god, he wants luke.

[deathcalleds]

There is no explanation. There is no logic. Luke abandoned every desire to know the reasoning behind his devastating fixation for Teddy. It wasn't logical to find himself at the throes of his own heated desires – to feel so utterly fucking consumed by them. It never mattered that all of his past meaningless trysts – Teddy struck something within him that was different from anything before. Love and violence bled together, an amalgamation of something that Luke grappled with, familiarizing himself with.

Possessive nature burns brighter. There is a primal desire to make Teddy his own. It presents itself with a warning and without the manners of introducing itself before pressing the issue. To the bone, Luke burned to own every fiber of Teddy. It was sickening – he knew that, embraced the cold touch of his own ailing nature. It's the reason his hands often reach out to touch, to grab, to feel. He marks his skin, presses into flesh, leaves a memory of his touch to make this more real. Something tangible for Teddy to remember him by.

If this was fleeting, Luke demanded to be remembered. It was insatiable – that much he knew. He revels in the sight of Teddy on his knees, those pleading doe eyes peering up at him through thick lashes. As much as Luke wants to throw his head back and relish the sensation of Teddy's lips on his thighs, he fights it. He wants to watch every move, to watch Teddy slip into that mindless blur. Inked hands come down to rake through Teddy's hair, tugging roughly at the nape of his neck.

Luke can't stand it. Can't tolerate the way heat pumps through his veins. Every nerve ending is set to flame. He's hot with desire, and that only ever makes him an animal. "So fucking pretty like this." His voice is dense, marked with a darkness that comes to light in moments like this. A hand moves to cup his jaw, thumb brushing against the skin of his plush lips. He's not so gentle, here, with his fingers prying into his mouth like he seeks salvation in the space there. "Begging to just taste me." A wry chuckle wraps against his words as two fingers find solace in Teddy's mouth.

"Show me that you deserve it, sweetheart. I might let you." There's no question about it. Luke would rather die than suffer the tension that threatens to pull him apart.

[graspedribs]

teddy can't stomach the idea of losing luke again anymore than luke can handle going back to the way things were. it was all so hard. isolation felt like torment. he needs this to feel real, even if he doesn't know how to make it stop feeling like a dream. "yeah." he repeats, like he still can't believe it. his voice is cracking under the pressure. and then luke says his name and everything comes apart. he nods, and arms tighten around his neck like it'll save him. "i'm sorry." he knows he isn't meant to keep apologizing, but he doesn't know what to say. he doesn't know what to do. he feels frozen.

[deathcalleds]

There's the undeniable desperation to simply never let Teddy leave his view. Maybe this opens up a new wound, and it's not something that Luke is bothered to dissect in this very moment. Relishes the feeling of relief that floods his system and tends to his aching nerves. Luke's grip upon Teddy tightens, like he's struck with the fear of such a heavy loss once more. "Don't apologize." His voice is quick, wavering. He won't account for the way his stomach churns and lurches – how every fiber of his being has burned to be held just like this. His eyes flutter shut, savoring the moment, memorizing the painfully familiar aroma of Teddy's cologne. "I thought I'd never get to hold you like this again."

[graspedribs]

he used to treat the world like it was his. it was one of the things luke said he loved about him. but now, like this, covered in jagged scars and isolated to the point of insanity, called by a name he doesn't recognize, teddy's not sure the world isn't trying to snuff him out. like it was never his to have in the first place. inked fingers brush away tears, and he hates how sad it makes him. how temporary this feels. like a dream. "you're really here." he whispered, like he was talking to himself. "i love you."

[deathcalleds]

Luke can't stomach the thought of losing Teddy again. There's a taste of desperation in every touch, like Teddy might dissipate beneath the tender weight of his hands. He has a moment to gain his composure, because none of this ever begins to feel real. Luke waits for the moment when his eyes flutter open – like this was all some sick, realistic dream meant to torture him even further. "I am here, yeah." His laughter is light, a little weary under the tension. "I'm not going anywhere, Teddy. I promise."

[concretejunglefm]

[graspedribs]

when he pulls away from the kiss, there's a massive part of him that just wants to crumble beneath the desire that thrums through his body. he wants to beg luke just to HOLD HIM and PROMISE he's okay. that he still loves him. that nothing is ruined. but instead, he swallows, and he tries to hold back, but the tears keep coming. "thanks for coming over." he mumbles, god, when did teddy get so soft spoken?? "i miss you."

[deathcalleds]

Pulling from Teddy's kiss is an act of war in itself. All Luke wants is to completely lose himself in Teddy in the way he once had. He can find the humor in learning how to appreciate the smallest of things, even in the face of such debilitating ordeals. "Hey, look at me." A frown at his lips as his hands come up to capture Teddy's face. His thumbs brush away the tears that slip from his eyes. It breaks Luke's heart to see the aftermath like this, up close and personal. "I'm happy to be here. I miss you." A pause, a quiet sigh. "I love you so much."

[graspedribs]

closed starter for @deathcalleds !

he left the a key in the lock box. he sent a passcode. he has two cameras at his front door and a security system. so when the door opens, he shouldn't panic. he still does. but then brown eyes catch on luke, and none of it matters anymore. his arms wrap around luke's neck in an instant, like no time has passed at all. tears well in his eyes, and he doesn't even have the sense to be embarrassed about how desperately their lips slot together. "i missed you."

[deathcalleds]

The guilt still lingers, but relief hits harder. Luke wastes no time in closing the distance between the two – all too eager to fall back into the routine of falling into Teddy. He's missed him beyond what words could ever be close to touching. Luke's arms snake around Teddy's waist, pulling him as close as he can get. Somehow, it still doesn't feel like enough. Their lips collide, and Luke finds himself savoring the taste of Teddy. Part of him falls into the fear of losing his memory of him, just like this. "I missed you, too."

[deathcalleds]

"morgue why are u on a gov watch list?" girl idk prob cause i say shit like this

[deathcalleds]

"Objectify you?? Don't mind if I do..."

"There's nothing more I could want in this world than to be objectified by the most beautiful woman in the world." Cue the lovesick look in his eyes.