* COLOR / LIGHT

luca caetano. / rogue. ❝ white, a blank page or canvas. the challenge : bring order to the whole, through design, composition, tension, balance, light, and harmony. ❞

[lachrymcses-blog]

muse preferences! bold your muses preferences & repost !

open curtains or closed blinds | stray dog or house cat | people or pets | outside or inside | half - empty or half - full | tv or radio | sing or dance | shoes or sandals | cash or credit | hike or drive | casual or elegant | centre or corner | sword or shield | airplane or boat | fizzy or flat | garnished or plain | extra salt or extra pepper | spicy or mild | record player or digital media | opaque or transparent | white lies or complete truth | blunt or subtle | loud or silent | books or music | familiar or new | youth or experience | spoon or fork & knife | knife or baseball bat | space or ocean | bow & arrow or blow dart | love at first sight or slow burn | freckles or dimples | long lashes or long fingers | soft lips or sensitive neck | stubble or thick hair | slow dance or intimate conversation | candlelight dinner or stargazing

[lachrymcses-blog]

amorevoles. 

     the footsteps drew closer and stopped. SILENCE ate away at her, unease filling her body as she began to worry. it was easy to forget that people were dangerous, that not all humans will fall for the sunshine disguise that she forced herself to put up. WORRY left her mind in a daze of ‘ what if’s ’ that laid out before her. each step was just another question, another brooding anxiety. & suddenly the door SWANG open, with very little warning. it caught her off guard, the small jump of her body and wide-eyed gaze being enough indication that lucia was TERRIFIED above all else. 

     lucia sat there, as still as a deer in the headlights, and slowly, the memories began to take over. paint-stained fingers, bedtime stories, and hugs that lasted forever. she would recognize his face and his voice from ANYWHERE. and how could she not ? he was her brother, after all. 

     ❝ luca ? ❞ she questioned, the name getting caught in her throat like a FORBIDDEN prayer. 

     he’s a man of few words , prefers to let his a r t do the talking , so it’s really no surprise that all he can manage is a feeble , ❝ oh my god. ❞ syllables softened by love , eyes lowered to where she sat but avoiding her gaze. guilt floods him now , as he thinks back to the night she disappeared , how he simply ASSUMED what had happened. he had given up on her without a fighting chance. and yet here she sat , alive & well , if not several inches taller. ❝ i can’t .  .  . lucia , i’m so sorry. ❞ he wipes at the tears in his eyes in vain , puddles of salt water pooling on his cheeks. ❝ i should have .  .  . i should have known. i should have fought for you. ❞

[skylcrks]

“please come down from there!” rhiannon called, forehead wrinkled in desperate concern as she turned her head to look down the block. they’d agreed it would be a QUICK jaunt up the fire escape–nothing scary–and rhiannon would play look-out like some kid on summer vacation. THE COAST WAS CLEAR, but it did nothing to ameliorate the growing knot in her stomach. “PLEASE!” she hissed again, the desert eagle in her hand growing heavier by the moment. unable to properly visualize the survivor any longer, she swallowed hard, shoving the gun into her waistband and climbing up the fire escape. “are you alright?” words were caught in some liminal place between whispering and SHOUTING.

[lachrymcses-blog]

there’s no mistaking the worry in her voice , each syllable coated in it like oil or tar. and normally , he’s not so reckless , but now that he’s found lucia again he has something to live for : something to fight for. ❝ hey , i’m fine ! ❞ the words are called out gruffly as he struggles to climb atop the roof ( he’s not exactly graceful ) but his voice is carried away by the wind. ❝ just give me another moment , i think i see something ! ❞

[crazyexedits]

So I move to West Covina, in love with someone else, and he’s the sarcastic, messed up bartender that calls me out on my stuff, and I ignore him, but we have undeniable chemistry.

[lachrymcses-blog]

* --- ike-knox.

She looked in the direction of the voice, waiting for something else—something more, though when nothing would truly come, save but for a tease or friendly banter, Ike would roll her eyes. “Go home.” 

     ❝ Go home ? ❞ A soft chuckle falls from his lips as he closes the distance between them. ❝ Hey, come on .  .  . I just got here. ❞  

[decision]

[lachrymcses-blog]

ofhcstility.

The reaction to the sudden, unexpected voice caused her to lurch up sharply in surprise, the bottle in her hand slipping and rolling across the floor as her head smacked hard into the top of the cupboard she’d been fishing into. “What the fuck?!” Came a low, husky voice as she staggered back and swung to face him. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Going around and scaring the holy shit out of people?!” All of that indignant anger toward the ‘intruder’ for interrupting her robbing him blind was directed at the man on the stairway. She looked nearly feral, poised like that. Crouched on the balls of her feet with a mop of red hair that, at first looked brownish from the mud caked in it. Her face, framed by the same muddy lining and what suspiciously looked like a small smattering of blood was twisted into an expression of annoyance.

It was the same red hair, only unlike when Luca knew her, it was wilder and tangled as if it hadn’t been brushed in weeks. Dark shadows tinted beneath familiar eyes and a hint of an ugly, raised scar flashed in the dim sunlight along the curve of her jaw. Even as she directed her tirade toward the intruder, she was still pushing bottles into her bag, before Cassidy paused. Eyes narrowing on the familiar silhouette in the stairwell. Cold washed over the redhead as recognition rocked through her and she stared up at the man, Luca. But a part of her didn’t want to acknowledge it, didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to register his presence, knowing goddamned well that it was likely just a trick of the fuckin’ light.

recognition rushes through him in the pale light of the bar , pieces coming together in flashes : the familiar voice , the mop of reddish hair .  .  . the theft attempt.  he hasn’t seen her in years , assumption being she was dead. he always assumes they’re dead ( so much for being an optimist , huh ? ) but now it’s like lightening has struck. he can’t move , can barely speak , disbelief crowding his features as he stares at her. “ cas ? ” it’s hard to believe it’s really her. “ you .  .  . you look different. ” he notices every detail about her , committing it to memory so that eventually he’ll paint her as she is now : FERAL. 

[lachrymcses-blog]

amorevoles.

( @caetcno )

     lucia sat, nestled away in a bedroom nearby the medical center, the sting of vodka against open flesh allowed her to remember one simple thing: THIS WAS REAL. all of it—the death, the sadness, the pain. it was all real, and nothing would change that. sometimes she needed that reminder, but in this moment, it only DISTRACTED from the footsteps that grew louder. lucia’s fingers patted the wound dry with a cloth that was only clean in enough—her mind relying more on HOPE than realism with it. as the footsteps grew LOUDER it was harder to ignore. with a frown, she abandoned her work as her own personal healer and she reached for her trusty gun. with any LUCK, whoever entered would leave once they realized how empty the house seemed, and she could escape without hurting anyone in the process. though, the chances of that seemed LOW, so she aimed her gun at the door, eyes narrowing with FOCUS. 

HE CAN’T BELIEVE THIS. his feet move quickly , urgently , through the halls of the medical center , each step agonizing as he realizes one thing : he gave up. the optimist , the hopeful man , had stopped believing in her. he said he believed he’d find her again , but stopped looking altogether. now , as he stood outside her door , he’s riddled with guilt. he wonders if he’s any better than their father -- abandonment runs in the family , after all. 

for a moment , he simply stands , fear running through him. what if , he wonders , she’s given up on him too ? what if she hates him now , for not finding her sooner ? his anxiety nearly forces him to turn around and walk out , too weak to deal with the repercussions. instead he braces himself , shoulders tight as he raises a hand to the door. a knock is offered , but he doesn’t wait for a response before swinging open the door.

“ lucia ? ”

[lachrymcses-blog]

ofhcstility.

@caetcno

Resources were.. for lack of a better word, running low. If Cassie were being perfectly honest with herself, between Austin getting rid of nearly everything she had and her haste to drink it before he could, she didn’t have much liquor left. It seemed her sources didn’t seem to want to trade with her anymore when it came to alcohol. And it was really starting to chap her ass. Usually, she’d go to Nadja or depend on her own personal stash, but that in itself was dwindling these days and she didn’t want to go to Nadja without having something to trade in return. So Cassie went.. well. Shopping, for lack of a better word.

She’d found an older bar on the edge of town that had, until recently, been overrun by the zeds. And for some reason, it wasn’t anymore. Not that Cassie was complaining, she thought to herself as she managed to get herself into one of the back windows with little to no noise. For a moment, Cassidy didn’t understand why there were no zombies, the back room was clear.. and when she went out into the bar, it was as well. But then she realized that none of the windows were broken. Even the door was deadbolted. As her gaze flickered to the stairs that lead to the second floor, even the first few of those seemed to be broken in. It looked like maybe this place had been shut down before the apocalypse even happened and if that was the case. Well, it was her lucky day.

Shrugging to herself, the redhead moved to behind the bar, pushing bottle after bottle of any dark liquor she could find into her empty bag.

THE BAR IS OLD AND WORN DOWN : dust & cobwebs litter the tables and corners  , it’s been abandoned long before the outbreak. paint , pinks and purples , is smeared against his hands as he paints his next portrait , a woman half eaten ( dead-alive ) against a beautiful sunset ; a juxtaposition to make him nearly c r y.

he ignores the first rattles he hears , assumptions being it’s the dead come to wander. he’s safe upstairs , no zombie has the coordination to make it up the damaged steps. but the noise continues longer than he would like --- something isn’t right. he moves quickly ( softly ) as he descends the stairs. the first thing he sees ? a mop of red hair. 

“ HEY ! what are you doing ? ”

[-broadway]

“We were in it together. We’ll take care of each other.”

[vincentvangogh-art]

Find things beautiful as much as you can, most people find too little beautiful.

Vincent Van Gogh (via vincentvangogh-art)

[inglouriousbastarz]

Santino Fontana on Show People

[ochocolate]

crazy ex-girlfriend characters: greg serrano (season 2)

Chernobyl next to us looks like a campfire! Hurricane Katrina was just bad weather! We have chemistry, of course, but that’s a formula for divorce. A play about pieces of feces is what we are together!

[lachrymcses-blog]

ike-knox. 

“Your steps are heavy,” she would say, not bothering to look over her shoulder as she laid another log upon her fire. The encroaching night putting a bite into the coolness of the wind which played with the ends of her hair—the glow of that small flame bringing a near sense of light into the darkness of her eyes. They had to be living, some errant thought assured her, for although heavy such steps failed to hold that thickness—that dead drag. Unnatural sound. 

PAUSES IN HIS TRACKS , brows furrowing together at the stranger’s words. “ that’s a new one, ” he comments , voice low in the darkness. there was something comforting about the woods at night -- the BEAUTY outweighed the fear. “ at least i didn’t spook ya’ , right ? ”

[thatlinearttho]

[shareaquote]

I don’t want to know the consequences of my actions, but the possibilities.

indescribable-fear-of-nothing (via insp0s)

[vidabrilla]