❛ + vagabond ! ❜

i liked hurting girls. mentally not physically. i never HIT a girl in my life. well once. but that was a mistake. the thing is, i [ g o t ] off on it. i really enjoyed it. it’s like when you hear serial killers say they feel no REGRET no remorse for all the people they killed. I was like that. LOVED it. I didn’t care how long it took either. i'd wait until they were totally in LOVE with me.

[stephanieblues]

“Wow, how is it that just yesterday we were out wearing long sleeved parkas, and now it’s like hot enough to wear shorts and a cute bodysuit,” she stated with a smile. “How are you doing?” She asked the individual in front of her.

[michaelwaxwing-blog]

The tall brunet’s face twisted in open, deliberate perplexity. “I didn’t wear either of those things - what?” As his mouth shifted to one side, he contemplated reaching for a cigarette. “Same ol’,” He said, not really elaborating what that meant. “How are you? Where’s your other half?”

[michaelwaxwing-blog]

hannahpls:

hannah stepped into the secondhand bookstore to shield herself from the sudden fall of rain, immediately gravitating toward the astronomy section to see if there was anything that might be of interest to her father. she couldn’t help but catch sight of a man standing idly by. he was repeatedly thumbing through the pages of old books and soon his sharp uneven breaths were all hannah could hear. they echoed in her mind, repeating like a buddhist mantra. his ritualistic motions reminded her of herself – – or what she hoped was her former self. tilting her head slightly, she soon recognised his features. “ … kale? ” hannah greeted softly, “ you okay there, love? look like you’re on the hunt for something. ” she paused, trying to muster a sentence that might distract him from his panic. “ like john cusack searching for that book kate beckinsale left behind. destiny, or whatever. ” 

It was sobering to realise that his peculiar actions where under observation, his expression paling even further when he realised it was Hannah — a former…fling didn’t seem an apt word for what they had, something fun that sizzled when they realised they were both not for relationships. Whatever she was, she was a ‘friend’ now at the very least, and the only friend Kale allowed to see him at his worst was probably somewhere far, far away. His memories failed him, but he could piece together that much. If there were nothing wrong there, Wesley would have been there while he navigated the fog, lost and dazed. “Hannah,” He acknowledged, wrapping his arms around himself to refrain from reaching for another book. He gave a small laugh at her analogy before shaking his head. “No, just looking for a distraction, I guess. Got a lot on my mind. How’ve you been?”

[michaelwaxwing-blog]

zxynokay:

Zayn didn’t know how he’d gotten here but what he did know is that it’d been a while since the last time he actually sat down and read a good book. He moved through the aisles absentmindedly, looking for a genre he would actually enjoy reading. He stopped though before he could find it and looked at the familiar male, one he hadn’t seen in quite a while. He moved toward him, a light smile on his face. “You been hiding from me or what?” he joked.

Three months gone like three blinks of an eye, like three drops of rainwater, three inhales in your sleep. The chunk of time he’d lost felt like a torn-off limb, like there was something missing. His shoulders tensed at the familiar voice, his eyes shifting over to Zayn with immediate recognition. Kale schooled his features to something more casual. Zayn was a friend in the loosest sense of the word, the only sense of the word that defined Kale’s friendships, but he didn’t need to know the grim reality he was still struggling to come to terms with. “You got me. We started playing Hide and Seek drunk and I gave up. You suck by the way.” He turned to face him properly. “Browsing, I see. Anything in particular?”

[michaelwaxwing-blog]

while the doctor advised against leaving the hospital for at least another week, michael couldn’t stay. he felt lost as though he had misplaced a part of his identity, dropped it somewhere. instead of heading back to the address they had on file for him, he headed into town and walked into the first second-hand bookstore he could find. hurriedly, he sorted through the books until he found something good. he would thumb through the pages until he found something he didn’t like and put it back. he repeated the action over and over, like a ritual, like he needed to. as if it would change the things that didn’t add up. his breaths came up sharp and uneven.

you’ve been in a persistent vegetative state, mr. waxwing.

there was a ringing in his ear all of a sudden and he grit his teeth to keep it from distracting from his task. for how long? he’d asked.

three months.

three months and a few days of temporary memory loss then everything would be as normal was the verdict, but the itch of frustration he felt would not ebb. three months gone just like that in the blink of an eye and….he couldn’t even remember how he got there.

[breathtakingqueens]

Arden Cho for Factice Magazine (2016)

[screamsource]

[reck7ess]

[stoicremains-deactivated2017102]

He saw her before he saw anything else in the room.

F. Scott Fitzgerald (via kvtes)

[retrospeckt]

[wnq-movies]

Do you ever do this, you think back on all the times you’ve had with someone and you just replay it in your head over and over again and you look for those first signs of trouble?

500 Days of Summer, Dir. Marc Webb (via wordsnquotes)

[quotemadness]

She is so stubborn, her heart has an argument with her head every time it wants to beat.

Catherynne M. Valente (via quotemadness)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

She was enkindled in her own living fire. Surrounded by coffee and orchids. She sat like a strange queen, almost supernatural in her glowing smiling richness.

D.H. Lawrence, from The Classic Works of D.H. Lawrence; “The Rainbow,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[michaelwaxwing-blog]

hi kids update

\+ do u remember the iconic engagement party of payton and atlas in which kale exPosed 5 people and went home

well

+ he grabbed his keys and the rest of his whiskey and set out on the road, fully intending to drive back to la......drunk

+ he didn’t make it, obviously, getting into a pretty nasty accident

+ and winding up in the hospital, comatose.  i’m working on a self para that will detail all of this, but i just thought i’d clue everyone in so you don’t think i’ve abandoned him. he’s COMATOSE.

[bhucewayne]

How complex was your relationship with your co-star?

[michaelwaxwing-blog]

obhelias:

              A scoff parted her lips. Nobody’s keeping her here, that’s rich. “No, actually you are the only reason I’m even here is because of you.” Not necessarily true but Ophelia cannot be bothered with the technicalities of the situation. “Since the moment I came back you’ve been nothing but cold and Louis? I get it, I understand that one he can hate me as much as he fucking wants — but you? What the fuck did I do to you to get all hostile? Leave? As if you wouldn’t have done the same thing. As if you’re not.” In reference to his last message. “You don’t know shit about what suits me or not, Kale. You’re over here dropping the biggest bombs. Knowing Louis is alive, giving me names like Jesse, and dead bodies? C’mon, the only one being stupid is you because if you have something to say to me just spit it out, can’t get any better than this.”

The smirk on his lips parted into a scoff, his head moving to the side for a minute before his gaze snapped back to hers. “That’s bullshit, Ophelia. Like you give a flying fuck.” He retorted without preamble, finding the very notion someone who could not even say goodbye to his face would find their way back into his life on purpose. “I don’t care that you left, not really. Sure, it stung, and I thought - I thought we meant more to each other, but that ebbed away once I got over the fact I must have read you wrong. That the girl I knew, or thought I knew, wasn’t who you actually were, and that’s fine. Like I said, I don’t care that you left. I care that you came back. I care that you’re here right now in my fucking face acting like I owe you something just because once upon a time, I cared about you. It’s past-tense. Believe me.” A dragged-out sigh fell from his lips. “Jesse, the woman who shot him, the woman who exposed his and Payton’s secrets, the women who might have been pulling all the strings behind this shady Hamptons farce of a getaway. Jesse, who I know well enough to say she would have left his body to be found just so everyone would know that she got what she wanted, that she always does.” A darkness fell over his eyes. “Jesse, the woman who gave birth to me.” His lips twisted cruelly. “There, you’ve got your truth, and you’ve got your elaboration. Now, get the fuck out of my face.”

[michaelwaxwing-blog]

louiiis

“Thank you,” Louis murmured bashfully to a musician he’d been a longtime fan of. He had been expressing sympathy for his most recent brush with danger. It was a little grounding to know how many people who never had a real conversation with him were somehow invested in his health and safety during his absence. It made him feel a little less alone, even though his fame played a big role in garnering sympathy. All that concern was still real. He was torn out of his thoughts when he heard another voice, a more familiar one, turning to look at Kale - no, Michael’s sour face. His eyes narrow. “You’ll live. Maybe you can write about this in your little book. ‘Louis William Tomlinson, middle name’s irrelevant, wouldn’t step away from me while I was trying to leave a club. What a fucking waste of skin.’ Just a little soundbite for inspiration.” With that, he turned back to his previous conversation partner, who looked nothing short of bewildered. “So, anyway, I saw your show and I really quite liked it. We should jam together sometime.”

A scoff tore from his mouth, the scowl on his face becoming darker. It was uncharacteristic of him to show his true nature in public, even if it was just to Louis Tomlinson, resident basketcase, but the alcohol he’d been flooding his bloodstream with all night lowered his inhibitions, limited his self-restraint. With a smirk on his face, he allowed the ice-cold acid that he normally kept safely locked in his chest to pour out of him. He felt ugly. Maybe he is his mother’s son after all. “Oh, Louis, even if I had a ‘little book’, I’m afraid you’d be off limits, you know, now that my best friend is fucking you and all. Don’t fret though. As soon as he dumps you, you’ll be fair game again. You can just wait until then. Now, if you don’t mind, I really do need to go, and you really are in my way. Unless you want to talk more about what I wrote, in which case I’d be happy to share with the class every little thing I know about you.”

[michaelwaxwing-blog]

He grabbed the cigarette between his lips and tossed it onto the ground, not bothering to see where it went as he hastily pushed his way through the crowd dispersing from the club opening. There was an obnoxious kiss mark on his left cheek and his hair was all messed up. He saw a face he recognised standing in his way, but his uncharacteristic drunkenness made a sour look cross his face instead of one of pleasure. There was a faux fur boa loosely tossed around his neck he stole from Kate Moss too. “Just on my way to Psychopaths Anonymous to pick up my womb-donor, d’ya mind?”