. guilttripping .

so many stars in the sky & i don't know why they always have to fall on me.

[defaiite-blog]

for some reason i feel like luke’s gonna go full rockabilly

[defaiite-blog]

deliiricus :

       leo’s lips curl down into a frown, eyes narrowing, his tongue darting out so he can lick over his bottom lip quickly. he thinks for a moment, eyes studying frankie before he speaks. ‘  okay. good.  ’ he says with a tilt of his head, uncrossing his arms so he can shove his hands down into pockets. ‘  i’ll wake you up at nine, then. consider this your formal invitation to said sausage fest.  ’ he says, a bitter tone laced within his words. he takes a step back, heading to leave, before ; ‘ how’d you like your coffee in the morning ?  ’

          ‘ don’t get all wimpy about it- being a fag has nothing to do with being gay. ‘ he says, pushing the pad onto unwashed bed sheets. ‘ i’m not kidding, leo. i’ll fucking die, and you’ll be stuck sucking off the fuzz to get out of handcuffs. ‘ he uses monotone to hide the fact that he’s ready to launch into full infant mode, ready to kick and scream and claw his way for what he wants until there’s blood caked under his fingernails. ‘ leo, you’re being a total fag right now. not ‘cause your gay, but ‘cause your disrupting my schedule. it’s a balanced system. you should sing for, like, fagazi... that’s how much of a fag you’re being. ‘

[defaiite-blog]

the 5sos fandom are always kicking and screaming over little things and i’m just so desensitized from bandom oh 2009-2013 you were a blast

[doona-baes]

[defaiite-blog]

frankie in a few words: morrissey. pissed off. shitty teen. more morrissey.

[blissifer-deactivated20150913]

[suffocatho]

Visit Original Link

[admirxbles]

         leo huffs, taking a few steps further into the room, bottom lip pushing out into a pout. ‘  ‘m not being a colossal bitch, shut up.  ’ he mumbles, a look of distaste crossing over his features, settling there momentarily. ‘   i don’t want you to make schedules. i don’t see why you can’t just get up at nine. i’ll even make you breakfast. & coffee.  ’ he tries, hopeful, though he knows that there’s close to no point, painfully aware of how futile his attempts are. ‘  why can’t you just change your waking up times for a while ?? see how it all works out ?  – it’s been scientifically proven that waking up earlier is better for you.  ’

[defaiite-blog]

          long legs stretch, knees cracking. his drawing is partially done when the pad lays flat on his thighs; not quite finished, black and white and medi-all-ocre. ‘ i’m not some sort of fag. ‘ the word leaves a dull taste in his mouth, something casual and unexciting. ‘ i’ll literally die if i get up any earlier. die. and my family will have you tried for manslaughter. and i’ll haunt your ass while you’re having a sausage fest with some low ranking aryan brotherhood skinhead freaks. ‘ he thinks before he says, eyebrows raised. ‘ play your cards wisely, sir. ‘

[defaiite-blog]

deliiricus :

       leo watches the other from the doorway with furrowed eyebrows, arms crossed against his chest as he listens to frankie speak. ‘  — that’s stupid.  ’ he decides, teeth pressing down gently into his bottom lip. ‘  i wake up at eight. ‘m not just gonna wait for another three & a half hours to be able to talk you or something. – what about nine ??  ’

          there’s a sigh and he diverts his attention to the paper. probably to avoid going full-atlas and strangling blondie over here, but his ass would be traded for cartons of cigarettes like nobody’s business if he were to be incarcerated. ‘ let’s try this again, ‘ he says, and then, ‘ you see, there’s this thing called not being a colossal bitch. ‘ he says it with the words all stretched out, each syllable stressed. he draws a line too hard, too bold, and it indents the paper. ‘ that includes not waking me up before eleven thirty. i can make schedules, if you want. ‘

[defaiite-blog]

headcanon one:

frankie speaks in monotone 95% of the time. it’s partially a defense mechanism, but mostly just how he’s always been. he’s only emotive when he’s, a) drunk, b) high, or c) whining about something. just because he speaks in monotone doesn’t actually mean he’s stoic and unfeeling   -   he’s quite the opposite.

[defaiite-blog]

          ‘ you see, there’s this thing called not being a colossal bitch. ‘ curled up on his bed, his knees bent and pulled close with a sketch pad between them. he’s drawing something cartoonish and boxy. he peers over the paper, squinting. ‘ that includes not scaring away any potential chicks and, like, don’t wake me up before eleven... thirty. ‘

[almaraistheperfectcouple]

[defaiite-blog]

escapeless :

         a humourless laugh parts his lips, the distinct taste of blood lingering in the back of his throat mingling with post-cocaine drip. yeah, he’s using again. undeniably coked out. since when is it 3AM? ❝ nobody says using, you fuckin’ infant. open the door or i’ll break it. ❞ 

          the eye within the peephole blinks. he says a ‘ whatever. snorting ? i don’t know, just go away, ‘ and then a, ‘ why do you even wanna come in so bad ? ‘ before finally settling on a sigh and the lock clicking shut. his palm is laid flat against the painted wood of the door, a gentle cream to go with their picket fence outside. ‘ i’m not, like, smuggling drugs for you. or one of your girly-boys, y’know, if that’s what you want. ‘

[defaiite-blog]

          sea foam flushes through the carved peephole of his door, his pupil midnight dreary   -   glossed and tired. ‘ it’s three in the morning. this door doesn’t open until twelve pm. go away or i’ll tell mom that you’re using again. ‘

@escapeless​