BLOODY & RAW.

low activity multi-muse.

[dooshy-blog1]

a  little  word  of  advice:   DON’T  BE  LIKE  THE  OLD  JAKE.  be  like  the  new  jake.   and  always  wear  protection.

[disconection-blog]

                   independent hailey jensen.    written by aly.

[graveribs-blog]

[graveribs-blog]

venomclaws.

she  has  no  care  for  anyone  else  unless  they  can  BENEFIT  her  in  some  way        (        and  even  that  is   a  difficult  feat,        given  just  how  disposable  most  people  are  to  her.      )            the  only  problem  with  the  injured  man  now  is  that  HE’S  IN  HER  WAY,                and  he’s  becoming  increasingly  more  annoying  with  each  passing  second.               eyes  don’t  look  back  to  the  other,               focused  solely  on  the  victim  below  her  as  she  draws  her  claws,               taking  a  few  steps  over  to  him   and  staring  down  at  him  BLANKY.              she’s  void  of  empathy,              having  no  care  for  who  this  man  will  leave  behind  if  he  dies.              killing  isn’t  new  to  her         ——-          but  it’s  never  her  first  plan  of  attack         (       the  kill  is  worthless  without   the  TORTURE.          do  they  ever  have  a  chance  to  learn  their  lesson  without  it?      )              she  leans  down,           venom  dripping  from  her  claws  as  she  holds  them  over  his  mouth,         allowing  it  to  SOAK  his  tongue  and  paralyze  it,              forcing  his  whimpers  to  subside.          she  stands  back  up,         finally  turning  to  the  other  as  she  offers  an  apathetic  shrug.            ❝         shouldn’t  have  to  worry  about  it  now.              that  should  paralyze  his  tongue  long  enough   until     —-      ❞              she  looks  back  again,         a  tilt  of  her  head  given  as  she  stares  down  at  him.              ❝      —–       well,        until  he  dies.   ❞ 

there’s  something  missing  inside  her,      something  that  was  never  there  in  the  first  place:     she  holds  little  concern  for  others,    especially  those  too  weak  to  look  out  for  themselves.     she  understands  that  not  everyone  is  fortunate  enough  to  have  years  of  training,    or  to  have  the  power  of  a  god  in  their  veins,      but  in  her  eyes,     it’s  not  her  fault  she  has  an  advantage.      (      it’s  hardly  an  advantage  anyway,     considering  the  more  powerful  she  grows,     the  more  monsters  she  attracts.     )       tracy’s  actions  aren’t  met  with  disgust  or  horror,    but  rather  relief,    the  urge  to  drown  him  slowly  diminishing.      “      that’s  a  pretty  convenient  gift.    ”      if  only  she  were  able  to  silence  others;     it  would  come  in  handy  whenever  some  of  the  greek  campers  would  visit.       “       i  could  have  shut  him  up  by  making  his  heart  burst,    but  i’d  rather  not  deal  with  the  mess.     ”       that,     and  it’s  not  worth  the  energy  drain  she  feels  whenever  she  takes  advantage  of  the  water  that  makes  up  the  human  body;     there’s  more  important  things  to  use  her  abilities  on  than  an  already - dying  man.

[chris-woods]

filed under: things that shouldn’t be that attractive to me

[graveribs-blog]

“     a  little  hurt  that  you  didn’t  get  a  ride  i  could  sit  in,    too,     but  this  is  definitely  an  upgrade  from  your  bicycle.     ”      hands  pat  the  handles  of  the  dirt  bike,    honeyed  gaze  narrowing  in  scrutiny.     “     at  least  it  has  a  motor.    ”        /      @temuto

[graveribs-blog]

leftoverfear.

❝   but  i  didn’t  know  that,   ❞       she  quickly  shoots  back,     the  glare  in  her  eyes  cold  and  standing  her  ground.        ❝    that  should  say  something  about  you,      shouldn’t  it?       daddy,      you  wouldn’t  let  me  see  her,      you  wouldn’t  let  me  talk  to  her,      you  wouldn’t  even  tell  me  where  she  went!     how  could  i  know?      how  could  i  be  SURE  she  was  okay?    ❞       she  was  completely  out  of  control  of  all  of  it,      and  that  was  what  was  hardest  for  brooke  to  manage.        ❝    there’s  no  hope  for  a  town  like  this.       don’t  you  get  it?    ❞ 

“    what  have  i  ever  done  to  lost  your  trust?     ”     not  telling  her  about  her  mother  had  been  for  her  own  protection;    with  all  of  her  friends  dying,    she  didn’t  have  to  worry  about  her  addict  mother  on  top  of  it  all.      “     i  told  you  she  was  okay.    and  she  was.     ”     out  of  the  three  of  them,    her  mother’s  the  safest,    kept  far  away  from  a  town  soaked  in  blood.     “     there  is  hope.      i  know  things  are  bad  right  now,    sweetie,    but  they’ll  get  better.    miguel’s  working  on  finding  the  killer.    things  will  go  back  to  normal.     all  lakewood  needs  is  hope  to  keep  going  long  enough.     that’s  what  i’m  trying to  show  everyone.    ”  

[graveribs-blog]

beastruin.

it’s  what’s  to  be  expected,       yet  hearing  the  words  out  loud  make  her  stomach  turn.      still,        she  knows  that  making  them  leave  beacon  hills  wasn’t  a  real  solution  to  begin  with.          her  home  and  the  people  here  could  be  safe,       but  what  about  the  place  these  supernatural  creatures  move  to  next?         what  about  the  people  and  their  lives  there?       it  makes  her  heart  BREAK,      to  know  that  even  if  she  saves  this  town,      she  can’t  save  anyone  else  unless  the  supernatural  is  entirely  GONE.           ❝      so  while  they’re  gone     —–     ❞          she  pauses,      taking  a  moment  to  look  back  up  at  him.        breathing  steady,     lips  pursed  together  as  she  takes  a  deep  breath.           ❝    —–    we  make  sure  we  have  everyone  we  need.   ❞        and  that  means  EVERYONE.        whether  or  not  they’re  willing  to  fight  alongside  with  them  doesn’t  matter,      as  long  as  they  see  scott  and  his  followers  as  the  enemy,      it’s  enough  for  the  hunters   to  WIN.         ❝     they’re  planning  something  of  their  own,       aren’t  they?    ❞ 

it  won’t  be  difficult  to  gather  everyone,    not  with  the  way  fear  seems  to  be  swarming  the  hearts  of  beacon  hills.     all  they  need  to  do  it  use  that,     use  the  human  tendency  to  fight  against  the  unfamiliar  for  the  sake  of  their  own  lives.    “      they’re  always  planning  something.     ”      if  there’s  anything  he’s  learned  over  the  years,     it’s  that  scott  mccall  always  figures  somethings  out,     always  finds  a  way  to  keep  blood  from  spilling.     (     except  for  allison’s.     )      this  time,    they  have  to  make  sure  that  his  does  before  scott  gets  the  chance.     “     they’re  not  going  to  quit.     he’s  not  going  to  run.    they  think  something’s  wrong.     we  just  need  to  show  everyone  else  that  they’re  the  problem.     ”      so  far,     it  hasn’t  proven  to  be  very  difficult,     their  numbers  increasing  every  day.      “      even  the  strongest  wolf  pack  can’t  win  against  a  group  of  hunters  ten  times  their  size.     when  they  come  back,    we’ll  be  ready.     they’ll  regret  ever  stepping  foot  back  in  beacon  hills.    ”

[graveribs-blog]

i love hailey j/ensen

[graveribs-blog]

leftoverfear.

 she’s  already  assessing  the  situation,            trying  to  figure  out  for  herself  which  side  she’s  SUPPOSED  to  be  on         ——–           but  that’s  always  where  she  finds  difficulty,           always  too  concerned  about  what  she’s  getting  out  of  a  situation  rather  than  who  she  needs  to  help         (        her  moral  compass is  OFF,          money  taking   the  priority  long  ago.       )             COLD  expression  forms  on  her  face,         lips  pursed  as  she  stares  back  at  him.            she’s  done  her  best  to  study  others,          to  read  them  in  a  way  she  can  know  where  the  threats  against  her  rest.           with  him,           she’s  gathered  that  he  has  no  intentions  of  harming  her,             so  her  hands  decide  against  reaching  for  the  guns  or  knives  she  hides  behind  leather  clothing.               ❝      and  what’s  your  GOAL  here?          making  a  hobby  out  of  all  of  this?      ❞             she  can’t  be  quick  to  judge,         not  when  it’s  likely  that  his  career  could  align  with  hers.              she  ignores  his  dismissal,       body  crouching  down  next  to  him  as  hands  rest  on  her  thighs.          ❝       WHOSE  JOB  are  you  referring  to?      ❞  

maybe  somewhere  along  the  way  it  turned  into  a  hobby.    it  used  to  disgust  him,     the  way  blood  looked  coated  across  once - innocent  palms,      the  way  life  would  leave  his  prey’s  eyes,     but  disgust  would  quickly  turn  to  anger  when  he’d  remember  the  fate  of  his  sister:     dead,     killed  by  the  hand  of  a  man  spared  in  prison.    now,    it  only  serves  him  a  feeling  of  satisfaction,    knowing  that  the  streets  are  cleansed  of  another  killer.    another  monster.      “     just  doing  the  right  thing.     ”       heath  knows  that’s  questionable  in  the  eyes  of  others,    but  given  that  she  has  yet  to  stumble  back  and  reach  for  her  phone,     he’s  guessing  her  morals  aren’t  exactly  straight,    either.     “      you  know,    the  police.     the  assholes  that  get  paid  to  find  assholes  like  him.      but  justice  doesn’t  make  sense  anymore.     a  guy  kills  someone,    they  spend  forever  deciding  if  he  really  did  it  or  not,     and  then  he  gets  free  basic  necessities.      if  you  kill  someone  in  cold  blood,    you  deserve  to  die.    ”       there’s  certain  exceptions  to  his  way  of  thinking:    other  antiheroes,    for  example,     given  that  they  were  aiming  for  the  exact  same  thing,     or  people  that  had  no  choice.      otherwise,      a  killer  deserved  the  same  fate  they  gave  someone  else.      “     so  i  do  it.    and  for  free.     ”     he  hesitates,    fishing  through  the  corpse’s  pocket,    only  to  retrieve  his  wallet.     “      mostly  free.     ”

[graveribs-blog]

#icb i Just made you my main gerard on tamora and now i have to change the url!!  @leftoverfear  “main gerard”  what other options are there really

[graveribs-blog]

@wolfache​.

their  expressions  contrast  ,  her  brows  furrowed  and  lips  pulled  into  a  thin  line.  she’s  not  good  at  this  ,  body  tense  ,  fear  sinking  in  beneath  her  skin.      ‘    amazing  ,  though  i  think  there’s  something  on  your  chin.    ’      there’s  no  emotion  behind  the  words  ,  only  sarcasm.

there’s  no  need  for  fear.     even  if  he’s  coated  in  crimson,      there’s  nothing  malicious  about  him.     he’d  been  taught  to  protect,    never  kill,    only  acting  out  of  selfishness  when  his  own  life  was  on  the  line.      besides,   it’s  his  own  blood  that  splatters  across  his  face,    the  only  remainder  of  his  victim  existing  in  the  ash  that  dusts  across  ripped  shirt.      “      is  there?     ”     callous  hand  wipes  at  his  chin,     pads  of  his  fingers  glazed  in  blood,     only  to  be  wiped  onto  dirtied  jeans.      “     hopefully  that  doesn’t  scar.     ”

[graveribs-blog]

because who cares when your throat grows into it’s own black hole?    we’re all going to die.    ©

[graveribs-blog]

bravelyfought.

 ❛    could  be  they’re  just  nervous.    ❜      suggestion  harbours  a  defensive  edge;    tongue  caught  between  molars  as  another  scan  of  the  room  is  performed,    screen  of  his  FLIR  cam  showing  only  what  is  to  be  expected:  nothing.    disappointment  is  a  bullet  lodged  in  his  ribs,  unfazed  by  the  bait  alex  dangles  before  him;    footsteps  falling  short  just  feet  from  his  partner,  lens  lowered,  shadows  concealing  the  chagrin  tainting  usually  -  bright  countenance.    ❛    funny.    let’s  just  get  a  few  more  shots  for  some  filler  then  gather  our  shit  and  leave.    you  probably  scared  everything  off  with  your  negativity.    ❜

“       my  bad.     i  have  that  effect  on  people.      ”         his  humor  is  dry  and  nonchalant,     finding  that  the  best  way  to  cope  is  through  wry  comments,       even  at  the  expense  of  david’s  beliefs;         the  other  must  be  used  to  it  by  now.      though  the  action  is  pointless,       he  angles  his  own  camera  elsewhere,         a  snicker  earned  by  his  best  friend’s  exasperation.       “      hey,       i’m  helping.       maybe  one  of  them  will  show  up  just  to  prove  me  wrong.      a  huge   ‘    fuck  for  for  not  believing  in  me,     alex.    ‘        spite’s  a  great  motivator.       ”       he  understands  that  this  is  david’s  passion,      though  he  can’t  comprehend  why;         he  sees  no  reason  to  believe  in  something  that  isn’t  backed  by  facts,        but  if  it  makes  him  happy,       he’ll  go  along  with  it.        even  if  he’s  pessimistic  the  entire  time.

[graveribs-blog]

“        before  you  call  the  cops ––––        he  deserved  it.        ”         they  always  do  when  they  die  by  his  hand,        refusing  to  harm  anyone  innocent;         it’s  why  he  doesn’t  raise  the  gun  in  his  hand  toward  her,        even  when  she  is  witness  to  the  bloody  mess  before  him.            “         so  there’s  no  need  for  that.       i  did  their  job,       but  better.        ”         heath  kneels  beside  the  man’s  corpse,       gun  tucked  away,       carving  knife  slipped  out  from  beneath  his  sleeve.       it’s  only  after  he’s  slashed  the  body’s  shirt  open,       tip  of  the  knife  pressed  to  the  skin,       that  he  glances  back  up  at  her,       composure  calmed  and  expectant.          “        you’re  excused.       ”        /         @leftoverfear

[graveribs-blog]

“       that’s  unfortunate.       ”        apathetic  gaze  lingers  on  the  stranger’s  crimson - stained  form,       grown  careless  to  the  misery  of  those  she  doesn’t  know;         she’s  supposed  to  be  a  hero,        born  right  from  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  the  gods,      but  she  lacks  the  empathy,        as  unforgiving  and  merciless  as  the  ocean.        she’ll  blame  her  father  for  that.         “         –––– for  him.       ”       it’s  no  concern  for  her,        nothing  worth  losing  sleep  over.       the  man  will  die  without  immediate  help,         but  it’s  not  her  job  to  save  him.          “         i  just  wish  he’d  stop  crying.      it’s  giving  me  a  headache.       ”       /        @venomclaws

[graveribs-blog]

blood  stains  his  lips,      trickling   down  the  side  of  his  face,      claws  having  sunken   a  little  too  deep   into  hardened  skin,      shirt   splattered   with  crimson  and   hellhound  remnants,     though  it  doesn’t  wipe  the   GRIN   off  his  face,      the  adrenaline   he  gets  from  a  good  fight.         “      —-      how  do  i  look      ?       ”       /        @ammorsos.