★

YOU’REㅤNOT ㅤA ㅤ𝕲𝖔𝖉, YOU’RE ㅤJUST ㅤᴬ͟ᴺ͟ᴼ͟ᵀ͟ᴴ͟ᴱ͟ᴿ͟ ㅤ𝗙𝗨𝗞𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥 .ᐟ

[fukstar]

Visit Original Link

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ★

[fukstar]

Me: Yeah, this is my musician multimuse, where I talk about the horrors of fame and write my silly little band bitches. Me: Me: But also what if I build a character that's just my excuse to critique American prison systems and the military industrial complex. And happens to be a musician.

[fukstar]

ⵌ 𝗗𝗔𝗦𝗛 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗦, DESCRIBE YOUR MUSE WITH CRAPPY EBAY REVIEWS ── LINK.

[fukstar]

sapphire + steel :)))

WHY YOU FOLLOW ME ── INSANE EDITION, ACCEPTING. ANSWER, SAPPHIRE + STEEL : I WANT TO PUT YOU UNDER A MICROSCOPE AND STUDY YOU & YOU POST THE MOST BEAUTIFUL EDITS.

If you wanna study me under a microscope, you're gonna have to get in line and also prepare to see some weird ass shit, hope ur ready. ♡

[fukstar]

raspberry ♡

WHY YOU FOLLOW ME ── INSANE EDITION, ACCEPTING. ANSWER, RASPBERRY : I NEED YOUR HELP TO KILL GOD.

Fortunately, you've come to the right place because I'm actually an expert at this. We ride at dawn, so get your meteor hammers ready.

[fukstar]

navy. winks at u

WHY YOU FOLLOW ME ── INSANE EDITION, ACCEPTING. ANSWER, NAVY : YOU ARE LITERALLY SO SEXY.

Oh my god, you guys ... Tumblr user cuntryjunkie thinks I'm sexy. Have I ... won? At life? I think I won at life.

[tenshiei]

you hurt him again, is julian's first thought when he sees the tears welling up in cillian's eyes. good fucking job, devereaux. but the more seconds tick by, the more julian comes to realize that the tears are likely happy ones, the small laugh that succeeds them confirming his suspicions. okay. good. maybe he hasn't fucked up this special day after all. and that's the thing, really. julian has been on his best behavior, making sure his embarrassingly short temper doesn't get the best of him in favor of cillian having a flawless celebration. he thinks he's done well.

❝ are you really apologizing for crying? aren't you the one who's always telling me i need to stop pretending i'm not feeling things when i am? ❞ it's helped some, hearing those words from someone else who isn't his mother. sometimes julian moves through life presenting himself as a product rather than a person, whether that be with a bad reputation or a solid body of work. it took cillian pointing out how wrong that is for julian to break that spell once and for all. he feels like he can say no to people for the first time in his life. cillian deserves to feel just as free to have a cry, even if it's a happy one.

fingertips tracing over the locket, julian gingerly takes cillian's hand in his and raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the cold silver. none of the arguments they've ever had matter right now, none of the days they've spent not speaking to one another. julian had meant it when he'd admitted to cillian weeks ago that he hasn't slept with anyone since they started hooking up, nor does he have a desire to. there have been so many advances rebuffed, even when cillian is on julian's shit list. no one challenges julian like he does, no one takes his opinions into careful consideration the same way. they can be at each other's throats and still the happiest they've ever been. this is why julian stays ... why he hasn't strayed once, despite his past proclivities to do so.

❝ happy birthday, querido. ❞

[fukstar]

He  had  been  abandoned  by  his  own  philosophies,  entombed  in  a  burial  shroud  woven  from  hypocrisy  and  walking  contradictions.  Do  as  I  say,   not  as  I  do.  Bogged  down  by  his  own  advice,  that  was  so  often  dished  out  in  a  startling  form  of  tough  love  to  those  he  cared  for  most.  It  was  a  lot  easier  to  throttle  the  bad  behavior  out  of  other  people  than  it  was  to  internalize  his  own  guidance.  To  fixate  on  their  problems,  instead  of  his  own.  To  apologize  for  crying,  after  a  lifetime  of  being  told  that  this  is  not  what  a  man  does    ──    bred  into  a  culture  that  would  rather  hold  their  feelings  close  to  their  chest  and  drink  it  all  down  in  the  hopes  that  someday  they  will  die  without  ever  having  said  a  word  about  any  of  it.  It’s  different  when  it’s  me,  he  wants  to  say,  but  he  knows  it  would  be  a  fruitless  waste  of  breath.  

❛  Yeah,  yeah,   I  know  ──  ❜  This  is  all  that  he  can  manage,  the  pitch  of  his  voice  cracking  and  folding  slightly  beneath  the  pressure.  Yet  somehow,  in  all  of  this,   Cillian  still  finds  that  his  heart  has been  dominated  by  the  overwhelming  weight  of  happiness  …  fingers  pressed  against  fingers,  lips  caressing  skin  and  metal.  Pet  names  poured  out  with  such  affection,  such  tenderness.  The  love  that  he  felt  now  was  more  of  a  bomb  than  their  fights  ──  the  arguments,  the  altercations,  every  raw  and  world  shattering  moment  that  left  a  scar  on  their  relationship.  Those,   he  could  understand.  He  was  content  there.   But  this?  This  bliss,  this  unearned reverence  …  it  had  gotten  to  him  in  ways  he  couldn’t  stand  to  articulate  fully.

Instead,  his  hands  reach  for  Julian  in  the  near  dark.  The  tips  of  his  fingers  brush  against  dark  curls  and  the  sharp  cut  of  his  cheekbones  as  he  leans  forward.  The  seat  belt  strains  against  his  sternum,  his  neck,  as  he  finds  him  there  …  finds  his  lips.  Every  bit  of  Cillian’s  touch  bleeds  adoration,  and  the  kiss  he  doles  out  is  similarly  stained  with  his  aptitude  for  complete  devotion,  as  destructive  as  itv  alwaysv  seemed  to  be.  

❛  Mindennél  jobban  szeretlek  …  ❜  Cillian  whispers,   confessions  spilling  out  in  a  language  he  knows  Julian  cannot  understand.  But  that  simple  fact  didn’t  make  it  any  less  true.   ❛  Thank  you. For just ... for making this a really great birthday. ❜

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤBest one he's ever had.

[rozqnov]

˖ ‧ ᯓ ☦︎ ▒ . ❘❘❘     ──── @fukstar   asked    ( ' 𝚒 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚌𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎. ’ ( 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙲𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙰𝙽 ) )   from  ⤵  𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔱 !

❛  okay . so go and get one . Я тебе не мама . just because you are big , famous guy does not mean i am going to get you whatever you want ! do you not have fans for this ? ❜ he's joking ... sort of . ilya was not ilya if he was not giving his friend a rough go of things . call it his love language — if he likes you , prepare for the biggest shit head of all time to bombard you with rage baits and quick chirps . time on the ice made them come out a little too easy . and he was excited to see his friend . besides , he's already pulling the pack of marlboro reds from his pocket , digging for the zippo inside too . he bites one between his teeth from the box , mouth halfway occupied as he tosses the pack to his friend . in a sing - song voice , he steps close , hand around the flame to guard it from the wind . ──── ❛  say ' thank you ilyushka . ' ❜

[fukstar]

There  is  an  air  of  subtle  yet feigned annoyance  that  adheres  itself  to  his  features,  eyes  devoid  of  anything  and  growing  narrow  as  he  stares  at  the  other  man.  It  was  exactly  the  type  of  behavior  that  he  had  come  to  expect  ──  that  he  enjoyed,  really.  Catching  glimpses  of  his  slow  acceptance  into  a  social  circle  that  was  not  his  own  through  the  near-constant  banter,  the  rage  baiting,  the  shit  talking.  Politeness  was  highly  overrated anyway,  he  thinks,  as  he  allows  the  tangent  to  run  its  course  with  a  silent  gratitude  washing  over  him  the  moment  that  the  filter  of  the  cigarette  is  resting  between  his  lips.  

❛  Or, how about instead ── Пошёл  ты,   Илюшка.  ❜   The  words  fall  out  in  perfect  form,  edges  sharpened  with  a  teasing  intonation  as  his  open  palm  connects  with  the  side  of  Ilya’s  head  ──  a  solid  smack,  short  and  sweet,  punctuated  with  a  shit-eating  grin.  

❛  All  I  said  was  I  need  a  cigarette,  not  that  I  needed  one  from  you  specifically,  дурак.  What,  too  many  head  injuries,  or  were  you  just  born  that  way?  ❜  

[tenshiei]

fashion  is  in  julian’s  blood.  he  supposes  it’s  an  inevitable  fate  of  someone  whose  mother  was  a  supermodel  in  the  nineties,  the  peak  of  y2k  fashion  and  all  the  strange  notoriety  that  came  along  with  it.  he  vividly  remembers  being  on  set  for  photo  shoots  when  he  got  too  old  for  a  nanny,  vaguer  memories  even  before  that  of  being  toted  around  on  his  mother’s  hip  during numerous  fashion  weeks. the  flash  of  lights  feels  like  comfort  to  julian  as  much  as  shiny  new  clothes  does,  hence  his  current  fixation  on  deon’s  outfit.

❝  um,  duh.  what  the  fuck.  i  think  you’re  missing  out  on  a  second  career  as  a  stylist.  i’d  punch  someone’s  grandma  in  the  tit  for  pants  like  these.  ❞

[fukstar]

His  teeth  had  been  cut  in  the  world  of  do  it  yourself,   where  goths  and  punks  congregated  using  dental floss  for  thread  and  glue  guns  were  the  new  god.  For  a  subculture  founded  on  these  ideals,  it  had  always  seemed  completely absurd  to  Deon  that  corporations  expected  their  patrons  to  shell  out  their  life  savings  on  a  pair  of  pants  he  could  make  himself  ──  and  do  it  better,  if  he  were  to  blow  smoke  up  his  own  ass.  But  this  was  beside  the  point.  

❛  If  I  started  a  career  as  a  stylist,  there’d  be  a  million  little  versions  of  me  running  around  like  fucking  clones,  man,  I’m  good.  ❜  Deon  laughs,  fishing  his  phone  out  of  one  of  the  many  pockets  and  unlocking  it,  handing  it  off  to  Julian.

❛  Here,  put  your  number  in,  we’ll  figure  something  out  ──  y’know,  so  you  don’t  gotta  punch  Granny  in  the  titty  over  some  pants.  ❜

[cpericardium]

It's weird this blew up i just wanted to ask my followers... it's not my graphic... if you're the creator I'm sorry and please identify yourself

[tenshiei]

❝ who says i'm gonna fuck him here? i like playing with my food before i move in for the kill. ❞ as alice searches up hardware stores near them, julian rifles through his things for a fresh pack of gum, elated when he finds one. he tears the plastic off with his teeth and exhales a sigh of relief at the burst of cinnamon scent that greets him instantly. not exactly nicotine, but close enough of a comfort to him.

his boots are on in a flash, phone and wallet stuffed into his jean pockets. when they step out of the hotel and into the night, the air itself feels stale and out of date as if time has stopped to linger and watch their shared shenanigans. it reminds julian of being in his early twenties, running around the city with cath and babs. things were simpler then.

tucked into the back of the uber, julian waits all of ten seconds after the driver pulls away from the curb before he leans over to fiddle with the radio dial, switching from some bland, contemporary station to classic rock. giving the stranger a cheeky grin, julian stifles a laugh at how flustered they look. he settles back in his seat and rolls his window down, singing along with the radio as he lets the breeze ruffle his curls, wild and free as he always feels.

[fukstar]

For  as  carefree  as  he  appeared  to  be,  she  only  felt  twice  as  troubled.  Crammed  into  the  backseat,   letting  the  sound  of  an  old  rock  radio  station  wash  over  her  until  it  turned  into  static  nothingness.  The  tension  is  held  in  her  shoulders,  antsy  in  the  way  her  fingers  and  limbs  continue to twitch  ──   eyeing  the  estimated  arrival  time  as  though  it’s  a  watched  pot  that  will   never  come  to  a  boil.  Fifteen  minutes,  down  to  twelve,  back  to  thirteen.  Stop,  start,  stop,   start.  The  traffic  of  a  busy  city  causing  clenched  teeth,  or  maybe  that’s  the  lingering  side  effect  of  the  bump  she’d  done  just  before  they  left.  Who  fucking  cares.  

❛  Jesus Christ,  people  don’t  know  how  to  fucking  drive.  It’ll  take  us  another  eighty  four  fucking  years  to  get  there  at  this  rate  ──  ❜  Alice  is  muttering  her  grievances  to  nobody  in  particular.  Maybe  Julian,  but  maybe  not.  Her  skin  feels  fucking  raw,  and  her  ring  finger  naked.  

When  fucking  Jerry  finally  drops  them  in  front  of  the  hardware  store,  she  has  half  a  mind  to  rate  him  one  star  for  taking  so  goddamn  long,  but  her  phone  disappears  into  her  back  pocket  before  she  can  even  remember  that  the  driver  exists.  

❛  Alright,  your  job  is  to  find  some  fucking  tool  daddy  who  works  here  or  looks  like  he  knows  what  the  fuck  he’s  talking  about  so  we  can  ask  him  what  we  need  to  pry  that  bitch  open.  Got  it?  ❜

[fukstar]

OLIVIA RODRIGO, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING MIA SLAUGHTER & KIMBER VOSS.

Like  a  real  couple.  The  sentence  makes  a  mockery  of  the  tender  and  precarious  nature  of  their  relationship,  sending  her  spiraling  quicker  than  she  can  get  a  handle  on  it.  Nostrils  flaring  as  the  air  is  sucked  between  clenched  teeth,  jaw  set  in  a  rigid  formation.  Biting  her  tongue  and  failing,  as  phantom  memories  of  the  taste   of  Kimber’s  skin  floods  the  inside  of  her  mouth.   How  fucking  pathetic.  

❛  Wh  ──  oh  my  god,  shut  the  fuck  up,  Kim.  ❜  Mia  spits  the  words  out  with  twice  as  much  venom,  arms  folded  across  her  chest  as  though  she  is  shielding  herself  …  shrinking,  turning  away  like  a  wilting  violet.  The strange, contradictory mix of anger  and  indifference  poorly  masking her  jealousy.

❛   ──  Look,  if  you  want  to  hang  out  with  some  cocksucking  loser  bitch,  that’s  your  fucking  call,  but  don’t  come  crying  to  me  when  he  breaks  your  fucking  heart  because  I  really  couldn’t  give  less  of  a  shit.  So  just  go.  ❜

[fukstar]

does it ever stop hurting? ( cillian & blake )

A WHOLE BUNCH OF QUESTIONS, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING CILLIAN ROSEINGRAVE & BLAKE STARLING.

Her  question  does  little  to  satiate  the  solemn  entity  that  has  draped  itself  across  the  room,  and  all  he  can  do  is  shift  in  his  seat.  Fingers  tugging  at  loose  threads,  dislodging  the  hard  lump  that  had  formed  in  his  throat.  The  sting  in  his  chest  that  has  never  quite  dulled  tells  him  the  answer  is  no  ──  but  that’s  not  the  right  answer,  is  it?  Not  the  hopeful  messaging  that  a  woman   drenched  in  heartache  and  betrayal  deserves.  Cillian  falls  silent,  surrounded  by  the  cluttered  bedlam  of  wires  and  cables  and  sheet  music  he  had  created,  and  finds  himself  at  a  loss  for  words.  Was  it  better  to  lie,  or  to  pour  salt  in  the  open  wound?  

❛  I  don’t  know.  ❜  This  is  what  he  settles  on,  about  as  honest  as  he  is  capable  of  being.  His  voice,  lacquered  in  a   melancholy  that  he  had  never  been  able  to  rid  himself  of  without  self  medicating.  

❛  I  think  it  gets  easier  ──  and  I  think  you’re  gonna  be  okay.  Someday,  he’ll  just  be  …  a  footnote  in  a  song,  you  know?  Father  of  your  child,  sure,  but  …  as  far  as  I’m  concerned,  that’s  a  blessing  that  he  gets  no  part  in, 'cos he doesn’t  deserve  it.  There’s  got  to  be  some  comfort  in  that.  ❜

[famebitch]

BEHIND THE SCENES ── THE MAKING OF 2486, A PRODUCTION BY SAINT DEATH.

[tenshiei]

nothing  surprises  julian  anymore.  nothing  except  this;  them.  how  easy  it  had  been  to  slip  back  through  the  door  he  assumed  cillian  had  padlocked  shut  after  their  last  fight,  bordering  on  physical  in  a  way  none  of  their  other  arguments  had  escalated  prior.  guilt  should  be  prying  julian  apart  and  consuming  him  right  about  now,  but  the  way  cillian  wraps  his  arm  around  his  shoulders  brushes  every  other  thought  away.  it’s  made  even  worse  by  the  smiles  that  are  on  everyone  else’s  faces  now,  as  if  they’ve  finally  laid  their  weapons  down  and  decided  julian  isn’t  as  much  of  a  threat  to  their  livelihoods  as  they’d  originally  thought  when  he  showed  up  out  of  the  blue.

cillian  gets  up  and  julian  assumes  he’s  either  gone  to  take  a  piss  or  a quick  smoke  break,  keeping  himself  entertained  for  those  few  moments  by  asking  everyone within proximity  what  they've  been  watching  on  television  lately,  if  anything.  when  cillian  returns,  they  fall  into  the  same  comfortability:  playing  footsie  under  the  table,  cillian’s  hand  on  julian’s  thigh  as  they  make  quiet  jokes  and  catch  up  on  what  they’ve  missed  in  their  near-month  apart.  this  is  nice,  and not  unlike  most  stops  heaven’s  eyes  makes  whenever  matt  or  santi  bitch  about  being  hungry  for  something  more  than  just  gas  station  cheeseburgers  and  red  bulls.  julian  has  missed  being  around  large  groups  of  people  now  that  he’s  taking  a  slight  hiatus  right  before  festival  season  kicks  back  up.

the  sprinkle  pancakes  arrive  to  their  table  just  as  julian  snags  a  strip  of  bacon  right  off  of  cillian’s  plate,  mouth  full  of  hash  browns  when  he  peers  up  at  the  manager  in  mild  confusion.  he  swallows  his  food  and  manages  to  stifle  a  laugh  at  what  is  announced  next.  god,  cillian  is  such  a  shithead.  and  god,  does  julian  love  that  about  him.  without  missing  a  beat,  the  confusion  turns  to  what  seems  to  be  genuine  elation  when  he  looks  up  at  cillian.  yeah.  coming  out  here  was  a  great  idea.

❝  babyyyyyy!  ❞  he  practically  squeals,  reaching  up  to  grab  cillian’s  face  in  both  hands  and  pepper  his  face  with  soft,  chaste  kisses,  ❝  i  thought  we  were  waiting  to  tell  people!  i  haven’t  even  picked  out  what  kinda  ring  i  want  yet!  ❞  julian  is  the  perfect  picture  of  someone  who’s  just  gotten  engaged,  cheeks  flushed  and  stars  in  his  eyes.  it’s  a  sight  to  behold  really;  how  quickly  julian  can  adapt  and  pick  up  whatever  role  he  needs  to.  call  it  a  habit  from  childhood,  playing  with  his  toys  by  himself  since  he’d  had  no  siblings  to  speak  of.  in  the  here  and  now,  he  cuts  a  piece  out  of  the  special  pancakes  with  his  fork  and  delicately  feeds  it  to  his  newly  acquired  fiancé.

[fukstar]

The  kisses  are  softer  than  anything  he  had  ever  known,  a  foreign  and  all - consuming  gentleness  obscuring  the  much  rougher  nature  of  their  relationship.  There  is  a  sinking  voice  in  the  back  of  his  mind  reminding  him  that  this  isn’t  real,   and  every  inch  of  the  starry  eyed  facade  was  exactly  that  ──  meticulously  crafted  fabrications  for  the  sole  purpose  of  reinforcing  a  lie.  Don’t  fall  for  the  trap  that  you  helped  to  build.  There’s  a  fleeting  emotion  he  can’t  quite  pinpoint  that  snags  and  pulls  at  his  thoughts  for  a  moment,  yet  it  is  quick  to  get  drowned  out  by  the  elation  that  paired  well  with  a  stupid  fucking  joke.  

There  are  several  sets  of  eyes  boring  into  him,  burning  holes  into  the  side  of  his  head  ──  friends  and  colleagues,  unsettled  and  uncertain.  Hitting  a  wall,  trying  to  parse  out  how  far  they  were  willing  to  go  for  a  bit,  a  free  stack  of  pancakes.  Was  it  real,  or  part  of  the  performance?  This,  this  was  always  the  question  where  their  self  destructive  frontman  was  concerned,  and  Cillian  always  seemed  content  to  let  them  marinate  in  their  wondering,  never  giving  an  answer  one  way  or  another.  

❛  I  couldn’t  help  it,  I’m  just  so  excited  to  spend  the  rest  of  my  life  with  you ...  I  had  to  let  everyone  know,  ❜  Cillian  purrs  the  words  out  in  perfect  pitch,  matching  the  faux  sincerity  they  have  woven  together  as  strangers  begin  to  lend  sparse  claps  and  congratulations  to  the  scene  playing  out  before  them.  His  lips  part  to  wrap  around  the  end  of  the  fork,  locking  eyes  with  Julian  as  he  takes  the  end  between  his  teeth,   and  the  server  and  manager  cut  and  run   ──  the  simple  act  just  a  little  too   sensual  for  them  to  want  to  linger.  He’s  trying  not  to  laugh,  really.  

❛  Jesus,  Mary,  and  Joseph,  that  shit is  way  too  fucking  sweet  ──  ❜  Cillian  admits  as  soon  as  it’s  safe,  choking  down  the  bite  and  wiping  the  sticky  remnants  of  the  sugary  syrup  off  his  lips.  He’s  reaching  for  the  cold  coffee  to  wash  the  taste  out,  the  edge  of  a  ceramic  mug  hiding  his  grin.  The  rest  of  the  table  is  silent,  barring  the  nervous  laughter  that  slips  out  amidst  their  doubts.  Several  minutes  pass  before  everything  settles  again,   returning  to  casual  conversation  sooner  rather  than  later  as  everyone  finishes  off  the  rest  of  their  plates.  

Julian  pays  off  the  monstrous  tab  as  he had promised,  and  Cillian  is  out  the  door  smacking  a  pack  of  cigarettes  against  his  open  palm  to wake up the lung cancer before  most  had  even  had  the  chance  to  leave  the  booth.  Slowly  but  surely,  everyone  begins  to  spill  out  into  the  parking  lot,  with  non-smokers  piling  into  the  bus  to  wait  patiently for  the  lingering strays.  He  has  the  filter  perched  between  his  teeth,  patting  his  pockets  down  in  search  of  a  lighter  while  he  speaks.  

❛  Surprised  they  didn’t  fuckin’  ban  us  from  the  iHop,  that  poor  girl.  Leave  her  a  good  tip?  ❜ 

[strfckersinc]

BEFORE HE COULD EVEN REACT, THE microphone was colliding with his temple, sending jax staggering sideways. that scowl of his pulled deeper, hand raising and pressing over the spot, feeling the rough texture of clearly broken skin and the warm, sticky evidence it left behind. a harsh huff of breath pushed past his lips, staring at the woman. this was the love of his life. this is what he had asked for, basically, when he pursued her, wasn't it? the violence, the anger, the deep feeling. so why the fuck was it always like this? they were always throwing the worst insults at each other, let alone objects. heat blossoms through jax's chest, anger and love all rolled up in one, holding him tightly there. he moves forward, boots crunching against the shattered glass on the floor, moving to corner her. palm moves quickly, suddenly shooting out over his shoulder and pressing against the door. " you're not fucking going anywhere, not 'til this fucking shit is done, okay? " his voice is low with barely contained venom.

[fukstar]

She  had  to  believe  that  he  wanted  this,  that  he  liked  this  …  liked  her.  Loved  her,  even.  That  somewhere  beneath  the  locked  jaws  and  clenched  fists,  it  was  the  thrill  of  the  chase  and  the  near constant  hits  of  dopamine  and  adrenaline  that  made  them  burn  bright.  No  matter  how  much  it  hurt,  no  matter  how  much  they  bled.  She  had  never  pretended  to  be  any  sort  of  a  saint,  and  neither  had  he  ──  this  sort  of  mutual  awareness  spreading  like  an  infection  the  moment  their  eyes  met,  so  many  moons  ago.  They  knew  that  a  kiss  with  a  fist  was  better  than  none,  and  neither  of  them  were  bound  to  change.  Ensnared  in  this  cycle,  this  all-consuming  ouroboros  that  she  loved  more  than  anything.  

When  his  fist  slams  against  the  door  and  blocks  her  from  leaving,  she  feels  complete.  Cornered  like  a  fucking  wounded  animal,  yet  twice  as  vicious.  He  is  there,  mere  inches  away,  that  familiar  venom  dripping  from  the  sharpened  tips  of  his  teeth  and  she  is  home.  

❛  Move  your  fucking  hand,  before  I  punch  you  in  the  face,  you  fucking  cunt  ──  ❜

[roseingrave]

﹫𝖱𝖮𝖲𝖤𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖱𝖠𝖵𝖤 : Posting proof of life because my manager made me.