tonic [n] – stimulant.

indepdendent semi-active & private original characters. written by luca. icons are not for public use. tracking tag: genietonic. MAIN ACCOUNT.

[genietonic-blog]

yOOO i’m gonna move these muses over to dcviant where i’ve got some of my canon muses. find me/them there if u feel like it!! uwu

[cedricsghost-deactivated2016101]

[genietonic-blog]

jacesclary:

[x]

[thediaryoflaurapalmer]

[genietonic-blog]

thediaryoflaurapalmer:

Amanita’s hair appreciation (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

[genietonic-blog]

— good hair.

      ❛         oh, well. they’re—-different. kinda vintage, so that’s neat, i guess! if you like them then i don’t see an issue.           ❜ 

                     ❝ That tells me nothing, but thank you.   I like your hair, by the way. How many failed attempts at dying it did it take? ❞

[genietonic-blog]

                       ❝ How do we feel about these glasses? Too much? ❞

                                              closed / @derbydiva

[daisylowes]

[itendsbad]

[genietonic-blog]

4.09

[genietonic-blog]

— mio.

SHE HOPES HE KNOWS THAT the lack of touching on her behalf wasn’t because of him, or them, but the fact that there was a part of her that shrinked away when he touched her. a part she couldn’t control. but her wants & her needs outweighs everything else ( as usual ). her body presses, flush against his own, her heart still racing, her nails dragging up the back of his neck, landing in his hair. a tug, to tilt his head back, lips leaving lips and attaching themselves to his neck, instead, acting like the suction cups on a squid, leaving red and purpleish mark on his skin. heavy breathing, her shirt hitching up to expose her stomach, toned & tanned as she rubs against him, fervently.

 a leg lifts, hoisting over his hip. her mouth trails back, dampening his ear and his cheek before another french kiss ensues. she is nothing but desperate desire, lust and greed anymore. her blood, hotter than it’s ever been, her breath nearly getting caught in her throat every time she tries to inhale some air.               ❛            mm,         ❜       she hums, nails on his back, now, pushing down and leaving more marks to tell him that she was there.            ❛            i love you.          ❜      

              He’s swiftly diminished to a living, breathing body of DESPERATION as soon as she pulls at his hair and deprives him of what he wants. A groan of ostensible frustration thus flees his lungs, followed by another throaty hum as soon as her intentions become clear to him. With each scalding contact of her lips to the column of his throat, his need for her grows more dire. He pays homage to the marks she leaves across his skin by a firm grasp upon her waist and the rise of his pulse beneath her mouth. 

              Once more, Gin lets it all come to pass without objection, even if in the back of his mind a voice shouts for him to stop in his tracks whilst he yet can; whilst he needn’t regret anything yet. He prays to his gods for whoever else might be in this body that’s rubbing up against him ( and he’s shamefully enjoying now ); that she’s not truly awake to see it. If it turns out to be the opposite... –––––– Well, he’ll torture himself over it later. ❝ God. ❞ It leaves him in a ragged exhale passed onto her mid-kiss, paired with the sidling of flat hands across her middle ( despite the uncertainty that still conflicts with all these good things he’s feeling ). ❝ I love you.      I’ve missed you. ❞

[simply-canine]

[genietonic-blog]

simply-canine:

Magyar Vizsla by KDR PHOTO

[genietonic-blog]

— @notherbody​ / cont’d.

      HE’S ON THE PHONE AGAIN.he looks tired ( and you caused it ). his beard, scruffier than usual. a certain looseness to his clothing. despite it all, the grief he had to get over when she returned, the bags beneath his eyes, not a single percent of his beauty had left him. for a moment, she’ll wonder if he tastes the same. if this tongue would feel different than the last one, would she allowed it to dance with his own. for a moment, no other thoughts find their way into her head. all she can think of are the hairs on his face,scratching against her cheeks. a step forward, her hand reaching out, her heart, beating sofast that it just about SCARES her, she grabs his phone. hangs up, puts it aside. an apology is mumbled against his chin, her fingers reaching up, pressing into the skin of his neck as she tugs him down to her level.

        —–he tastes the same. like her favorite food, drug and drink, all mixed up into one. like a slice of fucking paradise, as cheesy as that sounds. her tongue feels no differentcompared to the one before. but the dance between them does.

               He’ll keep staring at the floor whilst on the phone until it no longer gives him the RELIEF he needs; that’s when he’ll draw his gaze to Quince who’s resting in the corner of the room. Watching him breathe proves soothing for frayed nerves and cluelessness as to what to do with himself now that Mio, his wife, has returned to him from the dead. 

               It’s not like he’s actually keeping track of what the voice on the other end of the conversation is talking about, so the fact that his talk ( or lack thereof ) is interrupted, doesn’t much bother him. Gin however is quite STARTLED with the sudden forwardness of her actions, seeing as neither of them seemed too eager to indulge in touch so far.   Yet the manner in which she presents herself now intrigues him; makes him want to find out what’s to follow–––– so he lets it all happen. He lets her pull him down by the neck; lets her press her lips to his and part them with her ( her? ) tongue and, despite his earlier convictions, he even falls into step with the flow of her movements against him. How can she taste so similar? Is it her SOUL then, that he’s tasting ( since that must be the only thing that remains unchanged )? ❝ Mmh–— ❞

[notherbody-deactivated20160509]

GIVE GIN A SMOOCH

FIRST 3 PEOPLE IN MY ASK GETS A KISS FROM MIO.

       HE’S ON THE PHONE AGAIN.he looks tired ( and you caused it ). his beard, scruffier than usual. a certain looseness to his clothing. despite it all, the grief he had to get over when she returned, the bags beneath his eyes, not a single percent of his beauty had left him. for a moment, she’ll wonder if he tastes the same. if this tongue would feel different than the last one, would she allowed it to dance with his own. for a moment, no other thoughts find their way into her head. all she can think of are the hairs on his face, scratching against her cheeks. a step forward, her hand reaching out, her heart, beating so fast that it just about SCARES her, she grabs his phone. hangs up, puts it aside. an apology is mumbled against his chin, her fingers reaching up, pressing into the skin of his neck as she tugs him down to her level.

         —–he tastes the same. like her favorite food, drug and drink, all mixed up into one. like a slice of fucking paradise, as cheesy as that sounds. her tongue feels no different compared to the one before. but the dance between them does.

[genietonic-blog]

— mio.

IT IS ALWAYS ABOUT HER. SHE realizes this. she had a while ago, when she vanished for the first time. left him aching with worry ( for what? ) only to return with a bruise and another piece of her sanity, missing. for someone who lacked any sort of confidence, she definitely had a big ego. it’s proven, too, by the look she gives him. like she wants him to feel sorry for her. like this was caused by someone else’s crazy. a nod. she wants to step into his arms, inhale the smell of home. breathe him in and keep him in her lungs in case things get BAD again. of course, she doesn’t. instead,  her arms cross over her chest.              ❛            okay. are we going home?          ❜  

                  He’s not sure what to think, feel or do anymore. Part of him feels like he’s suffered a great INJUSTICE as soon as she gives him a look that to him begs for pity. ❝ Is that where you wanna go? ❞ It’s a straightforward question at first sight, but upon looking ( or listening ) more closely, one might discern the projected fear of transience. What are the odds of her leaving again sometime soon? It seems that whenever he gets used to either her presence or absence, she leaves or returns and tears his world inside out. ❝ We can if you want. ❞

[genietonic-blog]

— mio.

A DISAPPOINTMENT, THAT’S what she is. she should be happy. she asked for this. everyone knows that wishes don’t ever get granted the way you want them to. distraught, she gestures with her hands, unsure of what to say, what to do with herself. with the hands and the lips and the eyes that don’t belong to her.          ❛            i don’t know. i love you, and i missed you, and i regret—-but this isn’t what i wanted. this isn’t me.            ❜           on the border of becoming hysterical, she’ll close her eyes, lower her voice.              ❛            this body isn’t mine. i feel like an intruder. sometimes … i think i can hear her, in the back of my head, wanting to get out. and i haven’t even showered since i came back because i don’t want to look at myself—at her, naked.              ❜

           Scarcely had he begun to process the death of his wife, and now she’s back––– and now she’s back with a new face. The latter doesn’t bother him, considering he’s just about forced her to get used to his different forms back in the day. What  d o e s  upset him truly is that she somehow was granted a wish to return, from wherever she might’ve vocalised it, and it apparently went sideways. Makes it HARD for him to really enjoy the fact that she’s come back to him.      It’s not about him though. It has been for the past weeks ( or rather about his grief ), so now he withholds the need to take her hand for his own comfort and instead holds on to his phone. ❝ -—— Let’s talk somewhere more private. Wanna come with me? ❞

[genietonic-blog]

— mio.

IT FALLS DOWN HER CHEEK, A SINGLE tear. she rushes to wipe it away with her sleeve, the material of it rough, stabbing at her cheek. she should lie. lie more. lie until her teeth fall out and her eyes pop out of her skull. until she’s nothing but a dark pool of rotten SHIT. but she doesn’t. even though he deserves better. even though she’s stealing his shot at a better life. through and through, she’s selfish.            ❛            yeah.            ❜      she prays for the devil to pull her by her ankles through the ground and back into hell.   it’d be less painful than this. something along the lines of ‘ i shouldn’t have come back ‘ lingers on her tongue, but she says nothing. all there is is her, her shame, and her sniffling. nose dripping.

             He wonders if he’d need to know her as well as he does to recognise the SHAME that permeates the air surrounding them. It’s a feeling of dread, prompting goosebumps to spring to life across his arms and neck––––– as if he’d just seen a ghost. Still there’s no suppressing the initial need to smile, so that’s what he does for just a split second. The realisation that she seems nowhere near happy or relieved to be back ( with him ) kills it in a heartbeat, however. Gin wonders if that hurts her like it does him. He doesn’t dare take the tear rolling down her face and all that comes with it as a sign.    ❝ You’re not... happy to be back? ❞

[genietonic-blog]

— stranger?

SHE’S BEEN STANDING THERE, WATCHING him for about an hour, now. empty feeling in her stomach, like something had been taken from her at the time when she was given her life back. it wasn’t even her life to begin with. feet lead her towards him, finally, almost without her realizing it. she’s standing just a step away from him when she opens her mouth to speak, voice b r e a k i n g, sweat dripping down the back of her neck.         ❛             hey—-            ❜         her gaze flickers, settles on the ring decorating one of his fingers. the one she put there. her eyes well up with scathing tears, and she chokes.              ❛             i—–mistook you for som—someone. i’m sorry.            ❜               / @genietonic.

               He’s on the phone with his sister the second he’s addressed. Gin falls silent, mute with recognition and confusion both at once. The phone’s lowered after a scarcely mouthed APOLOGY to the other end of the line, though he clings to it as if his sanity depends on it even after the connection’s broken.   The stranger, if he could even call her that, has already revealed too much to cover it with the  L I E  that ensues. ❝ ––––– Wait a second. ❞ A frown digs into his forehead. The voice is vaguely familiar, but the mannerisms are what confirm the suspicion that shouldn’t even be true to begin with.       ❝ Mio? Is that... you? In there? Can it be? ❞

[genietonic-blog]

— sadie.

    she’s tempted to lie again. tell him that it’s no one special. just some guy she used to be friends with. it’d hurt a lot less than telling the truth. but she’s not that selfish. so, instead, a deep breath. another forced smile, shoulders pulling up, slightly.          ❛           my brother. today is his birthday.            ❜  

              ❝ Oh. ❞ Why is he relieved? He shouldn’t be relieved; she’s sad. ❝ Well, congratulations with your brother’s birthday then. Are you gonna do something fun at all today, or? ❞

[genietonic-blog]

— sadie.

                ❛           i’m fine, so. you don’t have to do anything.            ❜            sadie had never been a very good liar. biting the inside of her cheek, she looks down at her phone, scrolling through pictures of her brother. 

               ❝ Here I thought I was a shit liar, ❞ Nate scoffs after a solid five seconds of staring in silence. He no sooner decides to flop down next to her ( always too lazy to stand if there’s no need to ), lobbing a cursory glance at her phone. ❝ -—— Who’s that? ❞