[hath no fury]

[ofgxds]

an   independent,   semi-private   and   also   mutuals   followers   only,   roleplay   blog   for                   horror            𝙾   𝙲   named   lark hernández   based on the                                   sᴄᴏᴛᴛ ᴛɪʙʙs ᴅᴏᴄᴜᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʀʏ from [sᴀᴡ ɪɪ]

    written by nate      ❪     21   +   he   /   him     ❫.            ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

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[ohisms]

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬'𝑺 𝑨𝑳𝑾𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝑨 𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬 .    (   sentence  starters  originating  from  the fourth  season  of  syfy’s ‘ warehouse 13 ′ .   change  pronouns  as  needed !  )

❛  what  is  it ?  what’s  happening ?  ❜ ❛  are  you  alright ?  ❜ ❛  this  is  wrong .  ❜ ❛  you’re  putting  your  life  on  the  line .  ❜ ❛  you  don’t  have  to  hold  my  hand .  ❜ ❛  close  your  eyes ,  [ name ] .  ❜ ❛  there  has  to  be  another  way .  ❜ ❛  guess  i’m  not  much  of  a  hero ,  huh ?  ❜ ❛  what  aren’t  you  telling  me ?  ❜ ❛  i  guess  i  should’ve  told  you .  ❜ ❛  i  really  hope  you  can  forgive  me .  ❜ ❛  i  would  do  it  all  again .  ❜ ❛  the  world  is  a  better  place  with  you  in  it ,  [ name ] .  ❜ ❛  you  didn’t  get  permission .  you rebel !  ❜ ❛  there  are  consequences .  ❜ ❛  right  now  i  wish  i  was  dead .  ❜ ❛  thongs  give  me  a  rash .  ❜ ❛  who  died  and  made  you  boss  of  me ?  ❜ ❛  are  you  protecting  me ?  ❜ ❛  [ name ]  said  he  was  gonna  tell  you  …  ❜ ❛  you  owe  me  a  dinner .   a  very  nice  dinner .  ❜ ❛  when  was  the  last  time  you  slept ?  ❜ ❛  what  are  you  keeping  from  me ?   spill .  ❜ ❛  if  you  need  me  for  ANY  reason  whatsoever ,   call  me .   but  only  if  it’s  important .  ❜ ❛  we’ve  been  through  a  lot .  i  think  we  should  just  lay  low   &   take  it  easy .  ❜ ❛  OKAY ,   so  many  questions …  ❜ ❛  look  at  you ,   having  ideas !  ❜ ❛  i  have  ideas !   most  of  them  are  illegal .  ❜ ❛  we  both  know  this  is  about  so  much  more  than  that .  ❜ ❛  real  suffering  is  knowing  what  lays  just  beyond  your  grasp  and  never  being  able  to  reach  it .  ❜ ❛  some  risks  are  worth  taking .  ❜ ❛  no .  you  don’t  get  to  just  quit  on  us .  ❜ ❛  this  is  not  a  debate !  ❜ ❛  you  slept  with  her ,  didn’t  you ?  ❜ ❛  can  we  just  do  this  &  go  home ?  ❜ ❛  for  the  record ,  i  don’t  want  you  out  of  my  hair .  ❜ ❛  this  is  not  how  i  wanted  to  handle  this ,  &  you  know  it .  ❜ ❛  there’s  no  turning  back ,   now .  ❜ ❛  i’m  not  even  going  to  pretend  to  understand  what  you’re  talking  about .  ❜ ❛  can  i  ask  …   what  happened ?  ❜ ❛  are  you  sure  you’re  okay ?   you  still  look  a  little  woozy .  ❜ ❛  it  went  by  so  fast ,   i  just  …  i  honestly  don’t  know .  ❜ ❛  i  tried  to  tell  you ,   but  you  didn’t  want  to  hear  it .  ❜ ❛  all  this  anger  &  hate ,   it’s  not  good  for  you .  ❜ ❛  how  could  you  say  that ?  ❜ ❛  [ name ] ,  stop .  look  at  me .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  let  it  go .   i  really  do ,   but  i  don’t  know  how .  ❜ ❛  can  you  feel  my  heart  beating ?  ❜ ❛  what  did  you  do  to  him ??  ❜ ❛  do  you  have  a  better  idea ?  ❜ ❛  forget  about  me ,  just  save  them .  ❜ ❛  why  don’t  you  just  kill  me ?  ❜   ❛  take  this ,  &  disappear .  ❜ ❛  [ name ]  wouldn’t  do  that .  ❜ ❛  i  don’t  see  a  way  out  this  time .  ❜ ❛  i  just  need  you  to  trust  me .  ❜ ❛  there’s  that  smile  …   i’m  glad  it’s  the  last  thing  i’ll  see .  ❜ ❛  [ name ]  …  i  never  stopped  loving  you .  ❜ ❛  don’t  do  this ,   [ name ] .  ❜ ❛  there’s  nobody  there !  it’s  just  you ,   it’s  just  you .  ❜ ❛  it’s  gonna  be  okay ,   okay ?  we’re  gonna  figure  this  out .  ❜ ❛  i  want  you  to  leave .  go .  go ,  now .  ❜ ❛  let  me  help  you .  ❜ ❛  you’re  in  my  way .  ❜ ❛  [ name ] ,  can  you  hear  me ?  ❜ ❛  what  is  it ?  are  you  okay ?  ❜ ❛  no  one  is  giving  up .  ❜ ❛  i’m  sorry ,  [ name ] ,  but  that’s  not  gonna  happen .  ❜ ❛  just  for  once ,   will  you  please  listen  to  me  &  do  as  you  are  told ?  ❜ ❛  you  can  tell  me  where  it  is ,  or  i  can  find  it  myself .   telling  me  where  it  is  is  the  safer  choice .  ❜ ❛  don’t  do  anything  foolish ,   [ name ] .  ❜ ❛  listen  to  me .  we  can  help  you .  ❜ ❛  no  matter  what  they  say ,   it’s  a  lie .  ❜ ❛  you’ve  already  lost  this  battle .  ❜ ❛  i  know  you’re  in  there .  i  know  you  can  hear  me ,   so  please  -  before  anyone  else  gets  hurt ,   let  me  help  you .   ❜ ❛  you  know  i’m  capable  of  this .  ❜ ❛  [ name ] ,  look ,  it’s  over !  ❜ ❛  this  is  over  when  i  say  it’s  over .  ❜ ❛  i  think  this  might  be  the  end .  ❜ ❛  i  killed  someone  i  love .  ❜ ❛  i’m  trying  something  different .  ❜ ❛  i  asked  you  to  leave  me  out  of  this .  ❜ ❛  maybe  just …  coffee ,  next  time ?  ❜ ❛  you  will  never  lose  this  friend .  ❜ ❛  another  stereotype  shattered .  ❜ ❛  does  [ name ]  know  who  you  really  are ?  ❜ ❛  i  know  what  i  have  to  do .  ❜ ❛  you  warned  me .  ❜ ❛  oh  my  god ,  he’s  your  ex -  ❜ ❛  i  don’t  think  that  that’s  relevant .  ❜ ❛  i  think  i’ve  had  this  exact  nightmare  before .  ❜ ❛  do  you  need  us  to  hate  him ?  because  we  can  hate  him .  ❜ ❛  i’d  really  rather  talk  about  this  at  another  time  that’s  not  now .  ❜ ❛  i’m  not  here  to  talk  about  my  feelings .  ❜ ❛  you  were  always ,  always  lying  to  me !  ❜ ❛  why  do  i  suddenly  want  vodka ?   ❜ ❛  we  can  talk  about  it  when  i’m  dead !  ❜ ❛  i  knew  i  was  your  type !  ❜ ❛  i  know  you  can  do  this ,  come  on -  ❜ ❛  whatever  it  is ,  just  trust  me ,  tell  me .  ❜ ❛  the  problem  with  hiding  things  behind  glass  doors  is  you  can  see  through  them .  ❜ ❛  i  guess  you  never  really  knew  [ name ] .  ❜ ❛  you  really  wanna  talk  about  this ?  ❜ ❛  i’ve  been  getting  in  touch  with  my  sensitive  side .   knock ,  knock ,  [ name ] .  i’m  home .  ❜ ❛  poetry  sucks ,  because  it  doesn’t  make  any  sense .  ❜ ❛  it  would  be  a  lot  easier  for  both  of  us  if  you  weren’t  here .  ❜ ❛  my  personal  stuff  cannot  get  in  the  way  of  this  job .  ❜ ❛  this  is  cutting  it  a  little  too  close .  ❜ ❛  i’m  a  liability  …   you  can  finish  it  up ,  i’ll  wait  in  the  car .  ❜ ❛  that’s  not  even  remotely  funny .  ❜ ❛  there  are  things  that  i  can’t  tell  you .  ❜ ❛  i’m  trying  to  protect  you .  ❜ ❛  [ name ] ,  you  never  even  said  goodbye .  ❜ ❛  you  really  want  the  truth  all  the  time ?  ❜ ❛  i  was  always  scared  i’d  screw  up ,  &  it  made  me  screw  up  even  more .  ❜ ❛  if  i  couldn’t  make  it  work  with  you ,  then  i  couldn’t  make  it  work  with  anyone .  ❜ ❛  trust  me ,  these  people  are  not  your  friends .  ❜ ❛  i  couldn’t  leave  without  saying  goodbye ,  you’d  never  let  me  hear  the  end  of  it .  ❜ ❛  why  does  everyone  want  to  talk  today ?  ❜ ❛  you’re  not  thinking  what  i  think  you’re  thinking ,   are  you ?  ❜ ❛  we  need  to  stop  cutting  these  things  so  close .  ❜ ❛  you’re  not  listening  to  a  word  i’m  saying ,  are  you ?  ❜ ❛  you’re  relentless .  ❜ ❛  how  do  you  know  [ name ] ?  ❜ ❛  it’s  late ,  you  look  tired .  ❜ ❛  killed  by  a  pirate ?  that’s  how  i  wanna  go  out .  ❜ ❛  if  i  was  stalking  you ,  i  would’ve  known  where  you  were  at  one  o’clock  in  the  morning .  ❜ ❛  what  would  i  do  without  you ?  ❜ ❛  this  proves  nothing .  ❜ ❛  you  remember  me .  that’s  good .  ❜ ❛  i  am  way  past  believing  anything  you  have  to  say .  ❜ ❛  i  wish  i  didn’t  have  to  lie  to  you .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  be  mortal .  ❜ ❛  what  did  you  do ?  ❜ ❛  you  took  everything  from  me .  now ,  i’ll  take  something  from  you .  ❜ ❛  i  won’t  leave  you  here !  ❜ ❛  [ name ]  knows  what  i  want .  ❜ ❛  i  have  a  score  to  settle .  ❜ ❛  you  have  to  go  somewhere  safe .  ❜ ❛  [ name ] ,  be  careful .  i’ve  already  lost  enough  people  that  i  care  about .  ❜ ❛  do  you  have  anything  else  to  do  but  look  doubtful ?  ❜ ❛  look ,  i  know  that  you’re  worried .  ❜ ❛  i just  …  i  need  help .  ❜ ❛  i’m  not  gonna  let  you  ignore  this .  ❜ ❛  i  don’t  remember  much .  ❜ ❛  there’s  no  time .  ❜ ❛  how  long  have  you  known ?  ❜ ❛  you’ve  been  lying  to  me  for  as  long  as  i’ve  known  you .  ❜ ❛  i  can’t  just  leave  you  here .  ❜ ❛  you  have  to  go .  ❜

[ashstfu]

i am literally a walking red flag and that makes me cool i think

[ofgxds]

slashre​:​

…        BRENT  DOES  NOT  SEE  HIMSELF  AS  A  REPLACEMENT.        there  is  no  second  place  to  be  had  here        (        there  are  winners  and  there  are  losers  and,   well,   brent  is  the  one  who  ended  up  with  daniel        …        and  lark  is  the  forgotten  songbird  who  has  had  his  voice  choked  out  of  him,     who  had  lost  his  wings  and  his  hope  in  one  fell  swoop        ).        brent  understands  hopelessness,    but  lark  is  a  villain  of  his  own  making.      any  pity  that  could  be  spared  between  them  is  a  song  that  neither  wants  to  sing   :        even  when  daniel  isn’t  here,   he  haunts  them.

there  had  been  a  cage  with  a  mother  and  a  son  inside.     the  father  existed  outside  of  steel  and  bone,     a  ghostly  remnant  of  his  own  death,    a  reminder  that  all  lives  came  with  a  price  tag        (        are  you  feeling  weak?        brent  had  stolen  a  life  with  acid  smears  and  blank  eyes,    a  human  being  in  exchange  for  a  human  being,     mourning  that  comes  with  a  physical  representation   :         death  is  an  ally        ).       ‘   are you trying to make me feel weak?     you  aren’t  doing  as  well  as  you  think.   ’ 

The frown that sits upon thin lips is snatched away by the sneer that claws its way to the surface. Lark could not let himself feel small. The boy in scuffed converse was no sweet songbird; he was wing-plucked vulture circling over the soon-to-be bones of the other boy. He saw all, each crack in Brent’s soft exterior. No one was without their motive, the fox plays with the rabbit and pretends they are one in the same but in reality, he’s every bit the predator as him- even if he so desperately wishes he were prey.

It isn’t easy to hide his disgust for the other. It is an envy bleeding emerald over gaunt features, jade daggers clawing at the face of the boy he can barely bring himself to look upon. Lark had messed up, and here was this perfect specimen to pick up the pieces. One that wouldn’t dream of hurting Daniel, one that could give him everything the web-spun teen couldn’t. What bullshit. It would only be a matter of time before the fox had the rabbit’s heart between his jaws, it’s horrid bone puncturing  sinew--- leaving vulture to pluck at the scraps left over. Lark was not content with the scraps, he would eat Daniel whole.

“Again, that’s your choice of word. Not mine.” He reminds, keeping his tone as cool as he could despite his stomach doing cartwheels. It’s hard not to perform here; a strange circus of a teen very conscious of himself. The way he folded his arms to hide his figure, to both look bigger and smaller at the same time. The way he tried to deepen his voice, tone sounding thick as it claws at his throat. He sat so uncomfortable in his own skin, reminded ever more so of that fact every time he looked at Brent.

 Envy had its own little palette of greens; another shade added to the mix with each breath. He picks the survivor apart with shattered beak. Brent was handsome, far more than Lark could ever consider himself to be. His clothes didn’t hang off his frame, his shoulders filled out his shirt well. Even his voice was something the songbird wishes he could bottle up and swallow greedily. The replacement, the upgrade. He can’t help but feel this way, Daniel’s new forged flame feeling like betrayal.

“I’m not trying to make you feel like anything. Sometimes you just can’t help being the way you are. Some people are just born weak, you know? Are quite content to stew away in that for the rest of their sad little lives.” He takes a moment to swallow his smile, readjusting folded arms. “You’re certainly not weak, dude. Far from it.”

@slashre​ 

[ofgxds]

slashre​:

ofgxds​:

He adores her sounds; sawed-off stutters of praise carved effortlessly into the air. Such simple sacrament, wafer on tongue, wine on pallet as he dedicates every last breath he has to the divinity that was Charlie Townes. Each jerk of her hips, each tug on his hair drives him crazy. He’s drunk on her sweetness, sparrow-boned boy ravenous as hot and desperate tongue paints sanctity from sacrilege. The woman’s heat, the taste of her lips swallowed whole was beyond intoxicating. He’s already soaked through his jeans at just the sound of devastating hymn.

 In his near drunken stupor, strangled gasps and moans twist themselves into image unholy. The inverse, spluttered tears and choked breath as teeth plunge into flesh, as blade stutters through thigh. He barely feels her trembling touch over the back of his hand; eyes closed but seeing the fantasy clearer with each delicious utterance he drank up.

He doesn’t stop, brows knitted with unwavering desperation of his own as he feels her core as erratic as ever, her just as in need for him as he was for her. There’s tunnel vision in the dark, nails digging in all that more tighter into flesh as he groans against her heat. He needs to hear it, needs to hear her, needs to steal every last breath from her, he feels himself already seeing stars—no, blood splatter – hot and red and crimson drenched across headline, across the inky nothingness that awaited them beyond. The body was a wonderful thing, wonderfully cruel and forever decaying. As he feel’s Charlie’s grip release, he opens his eyes to drink in the sight of her; one he thinks he’s never going to forget—one that would play over in his mind for months to come.

He’s pushed away, ripped away from the warmth far too soon for his liking. Curly-hair wild and tousled from her fistfuls of affirmation, he looks unravelled. His chest heaves as he’s remembering that he needs to breathe, hungry smile on glistening maw as those sweet words come to crest and rot their way into his brain. Good boy. Good boy. God, he was still shaking. Her hand finds his flushed face, blood coursing its way hot and harsh under the layers that still informed him he was human. But unravelled boy, what lay beneath was not man- it was monster-to-be.

His hand snakes as she collects his features in her own, and his rest carefully on the side of her neck. Her pulse flourished under his finger-tip, and dilated hues glowered restlessly at the digits pressed heavier. If there was ever opportunity, it was now. He had had a taste, and now he wanted it all. Everything she had. His prize to claim, his own private baptism. Would anyone even care if she went missing? It would be expected, surely- in her line of work. A thousand excuses fumbled to the front of his mind as she kisses him and his hand breathes away, instead shamelessly sinking to grasp at her breast.

He couldn’t help it; teen’s sticky palm groping and kneading at the soft flesh below. His forehead hides into her neck as their lips part, her taste lingering on his tongue but finds itself so easily returned to the pulse of her throat by ways of gentle kisses. God created men in his image to be worshipped and loved by the very things he created; Charlie Townes would pay the price for doing the very same. Lark swallows hard at her question, eyes fluttering closed as he continued to drop slow and hungry kisses across the pages of her jaw. “No.” He lies, blaspheme uttered far too easily for his own liking. “Just been a while..” he chases with false justification for his inexperience. “It was… good though?” She’s already told him this, he just needs to hear it again. “I...” his voice is barely audible over the sound of the pounding rain outside, over the sound of his own heartbeat throbbing in his head, “We...have all night. I could...we could do it again... “

@slashre​ 

[ofgxds]

slashre​:

…        IZZY  WAS  OFF  WITH  THE  FAIRIES        (        this  expression  had  danced  across  her  childhood,    the  murmuring  of  motherly  mouths  excusing  her  ditzy  moments,    explaining  away  a  girl  who  lost  herself  in  internet  buzzwords  and  dangerous  pipelines   :        no  one  ever  seemed  to  remember  that  fairies  were  fanged  creatures,    clawed  hounds,   brutal  hunters  of  little  girls        ).         she  had  been  pinned  and  dissected,    her  organs  weighed  and  found  wanting        …        fairies  were  not  friendly  creatures.        which  meant  that  izzy  was  used  to  the  leftovers,    the  rotten  pieces  of  humanity  that  rotted  tongues  to  nothing.        I  DO  NOT  SPEAK  OF  TROUBLES,      SAYS  THE  FAIRY  -  PLUCKED  GIRL.

here,   the  world  cared  for  her.     these  people  would  not  let  her  be  dragged  away  by  the  fairies,    they  would  not  let  her  die  as  little  more  than  blown  pollen  spooling  free  from  the  dawning  bud  of  a  flower        (        if  she  dies  here,    people  would  notice        …       and  that  is  the  only  way  to  truly  die   :        anything  else  is  just  ceaseless  wandering        ).        ‘   perfect,   ’        izzy  signs  with  a  noiseless  laugh.       here,    they  do  not  hear  her,    but  they  find  other  ways  of  listening  to  her.      lark  turns  his  hands  into  a  voice,    his  palms  into  a  throat,    a  killing  word  trapped  beneath  his  nails   :        he  does  these  things  for  her.        she  wants  to  curl  into  his  hands  and  lay  there,     watching  him  twitch  more  words  into  the  air  just  for  her.

she  has  not  yet  learned  how  real  danger  can  be,    so  she  rests  against  the  couch  with  ease,     a  little  drop  of  a  white  -  budded  flower  opening  for  him.        ‘   do  i  visit  too  often?     i  try  to  make  sure  there’s  a  day  between  each.     but  days  are  so  funny.     fast  and  slow,    all  so  different.   ’        she  draws  the  words  quickly,    fingers  made  for  these  aching  movements.        ‘    domi  could  teach  you.   she’s  so  smart.   ’       friendship,   fresh  from  the  over,   wrapped  in  a  gentle  blanket.        ‘   can  i  see  what’s  on  it?   ’

Company had seldom been found in thin frame of his van; the vehicle more a home than any brick-and-water housing he’d been privy to. This was a home self-made, just as much as he was self-made (and self-destructive). Songbird had flown from the nest long ago in search for clearer skies and greener pastures, the road long and turbulent; chapters spent caged, pages turning tales of wings clipped- but now? Here he had settled in the greenest pastures of them all, the raggedy little creature left at the end of his novel was still the same bird. And what had such pasture offered? A whole flock of lambs to perch upon, soft and clean and gentle.

He does his best to catch up with her flurry of words, gathering and plucking what meaning he could from the air. Lark was by no means fluent at all, but still he sat and watched, listened. He nodded politely, eyes widening slightly at a sign he DID recognise. DOMI. “Sure. I guess.” A half-committed response dressed and laced in a gentle smile, he hopes that it’s a convincing enough gift to hide his embarrassment. He hadn’t been practicing as much as he should have been; mind these days PREOCCUPIED.

Dark eyes glance back at the small but sturdy box in his hand, deciding to place it back on the ground out of reach. “Ah, it’s still kinda busted. Just a bunch of old stuff. Nothing crazy interesting.” Lark’s lies flow one after another, each spilling out over the other like white water in gushing river. Lark was a self-made man, and he would create himself in whatever image he saw fit; that was a side of him that he didn’t need nor particularly want new friends to see. Careful, sweet flock- that is not a songbird at all, plucked and raw and beady-eyed----- that thing is a vulture.

“It’s cool having you over, y’know? It’s nice.” He turns to look back at her, fiddling with the screwdriver between digits as he pulls his legs up to his chest. The slightest of winces; everything still ached.

 “You really liven the whole joint up an---” The boy’s words trail off as a thought comes to mind, “Oh, wait.” Lark flashes a smile as he carefully rises to crouch, moving over to the small power-bank at the back of the confines of the van. With a tiny CLICK, a flick of the switch- the space comes to life. A collection of soft reds, burning crimson stars scattered across the ceiling erupt in bloody glow. “Put up some fairy lights. Thought it’d be more uh… cosy?” Bashful laugh stutters out as he returns to his seat next to her. “What d’you think?”

@slashre​ 

[ohisms]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑰𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝒀 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑹𝑬 .    (   a  series  of  nsfw  prompts ,  separated  by  quotes   &   acts .   ‘ my ’  muse  belongs  to  the  one  who  posted  the  meme .  send   “ + REVERSE ”   to  reverse  the  prompts  )

       →  WORDS .

❛  i’m  sorry ,  you  don’t  enjoy  being  teased ? .  ❜ ❛  you  know  what  i’m  waiting  for .  ❜ ❛  keep  your  hands  where  they  are .  ❜ ❛  i want you to ride  [ me / my fingers ] .  ❜ ❛  you  make  the  prettiest  sounds .  ❜ ❛  say  please .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  make  this  last .  ❜ ❛  look  at  me .  ❜ ❛  i’m  yours ,  only  yours -  ❜ ❛  yeah ,  just like that -  ❜ ❛  i’ve  barely  even  started .  ❜ ❛  i  need  you .  ❜ ❛  god ,  shut  up  and  fuck  me  already !  ❜ ❛  god ,  yes ,  [ name ] ,  don’t  stop .  ❜ ❛  you  have  no  idea  how  long  i’ve  wanted  to  do  this .  ❜ ❛  who  gets  to  touch  you  like  this ?  ❜ ❛  come  for  me .  ❜ ❛  ah ,  ah -  don’t  touch .  ❜ ❛  brace  your  hands  on  the  wall .  ❜ ❛  could  you  come  like  this ?  ❜ ❛  please ,  let  me  come -  ❜ ❛  god ,  you’re  beautiful -  ❜ ❛  i’ve  been  waiting  for  this  all  night .  ❜ ❛  you’re  such  a  tease .  ❜ ❛  take  these  off .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  feel  your  [ mouth / fingers ] .  ❜ ❛  do  you  have  any  idea  how  good  you  taste ?  ❜ ❛  tell  me  what  you  want .  ❜ ❛  we  shouldn’t -  ah ,  we shouldn’t be doing this .  ❜ ❛  faster ,  [ name ] ,  i  need  more .  ❜ ❛  is  this  good ?  ❜ ❛  keep  your  eyes  open .  ❜ ❛  i  can’t  wait  to  find  out  what  else  you  can  do .  ❜ ❛  you  don’t  have  to  be  so  gentle .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  hear  you  beg .  ❜ ❛  can  i  take  this  off ?  ❜ ❛  please ,  please ,  please -  ❜ ❛  you’re  doing  so  well  for  me .  ❜ ❛  please  touch  me .  ❜ ❛  keep  reading ,  i  want  to  see  how  long  you  last .  ❜ ❛  i’ll  buy  you  another  one .  ❜ ❛  say  my  name .  louder .  ❜ ❛  i  can’t  wait  any  longer .  ❜ ❛  you  feel  so  good .  ❜ ❛  you’re  going  to  leave  a  mark -  ❜ ❛  touch  yourself  for  me .  ❜ ❛  do  you  deserve  it ?   ❜ ❛  did  i  say  you  could  come ?  ❜ ❛  i’m  so  close -  ❜ ❛  they’re  going  to  catch  us -  ❜ ❛  i  want  you  right  here .  ❜ ❛  we  have  to  be  quiet .  ❜

         →  ACTIONS .

❛  pin .   to  restrain  my  muse’s  hands  during  intimacy . ❛  mirror .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  in  front  of  a  mirror . ❛  deny .   to  deny  my  muse  an  orgasm . ❛  distance .   to  have  [ phone / video ]  sex  with  my  muse . ❛  playlist .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  while  music  is  playing . ❛  paw .   to  fondle  my  muse’s   [ chest  /  ass ] . ❛  wall .   to  pin  my  muse  against  a  wall . ❛  table .   to  hoist  my  muse  onto  a  [ table  /  counter ] . ❛  clothed .   to  make  my  muse  come  while  fully  dressed . ❛  finger .   to  finger  my  muse . ❛  oral .   to  give  my  muse  oral . ❛  fervent .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  after  a  fight . ❛  distraction .   to  rile  my  muse  up  during  a  film . ❛  mark .   to  leave  marks  on  my  muse  [  optional :  specify where  ] . ❛  tie .   to  use  restraints  on  my  muse  during  intimacy . ❛  throat .   to  choke  my  muse  during  intimacy . ❛  sparring .   for  sparring  to  turn  into  sex . ❛  toys .   to  use  toys  [ vibrator / strap / otherwise ]  on  my  muse . ❛  imagery .   to  send  my  muse  a  risque  photo . ❛  drag .   to  pull  my  muse  closer  by  a  piece  of  clothing . ❛  tear .   to  tear  a  piece  of  clothing  from  my  muse’s  body . ❛  shower .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  in  the  [ shower / bath ] . ❛  sneaky .   to  sneak  away  from  a  gathering  to  have  sex  with  my  muse . ❛  beg .   to  make  my  muse  beg . ❛  carnal .   to  [ scratch / bite ]  my  muse  during  intimacy . ❛  preoccupied .   to  rile  my  muse  up  as  they  [ read / work ] . ❛  jealous .   to  purposefully  make  my  muse  react  possessively . ❛  dare .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  based  off  a  dare . ❛  read .   to  re-enact  something  from  a  [ book / show / porn ]  with  my  muse . ❛  collapse .   to  break  a  bed  during  sex  with  my  muse . ❛  caught .   to  get  caught  with  my  muse  during  sex .

[ofgxds]

slashre​:​​

…       STORIES  ARE  ALWAYS  SAD   :        they  overwhelm  the  human  mind  to  the  point  of  tears,    whether  the  offered  ending  sings  of  dismal  destruction  or  sweetened  hope        (        it’s  not  the  ending  that  matters        …        it  is  the  fact  it  ends  at  all         …         it’s  the  way  the  ending  is  underscored  as  one  set  in  stone,    an  unmoving  beast  that  rebels  against  the  allure  of  their  humanity         ).        this  is  why  charlie  is  dressed  up  in  her  own  misery,     clouded  by  a  fading  blanket  of  her  own  endings.      once  day,   her  story  will  end,    colliding  itself  thinly  against  the  tale  of  lark’s  life.        BUT  IF  SHE  IS  A  PAPERBACK,   THEN  HE  IS  AN  ORIGAMI  BIRD   :        he  denies  that  he  is  even  made  of  paper,    growing  feathers  from  papercuts  and  wings  from  inky  scribbles.

his  story  will  end,   too,    and  the  final  pages  will  be  more  gory  than  her  own        …        the  paper  -  bird  will  find  the  ground  in  a  blaze  of  glory,   unable  to  accept  its  true  form        (        beneath  all  of  lark’s  cracks,    he  wears  the  making  of  a  monster   :       charlie  might  one  day  set  the  blade  into  his  hand,     but  it’ll  be  his  own  sick  mind  that  drives  him  to  murder        ).        CHARLIE  TOWNES,   FIRST  ON  THE  SCENE        …        she  could  create  quite  the  stir  in  documenting  a  friend  -  turned  -  killer,   the  inside  scoop  dishing  out  organs  and  secrets  and  the  offal  of  lark’s  soul.        she  delights  herself  in  the  idea,   but  does  not  press  towards  it.

‘   you  look  like  the  dead  bird  that  a  cat  dragged  in.   ’        she  ruffles  her  fingers  lightly  through  his  messy  locks,    dropping  her  hand  until  it  could  smooth  against  the  skin  behind  his  ear.      he’s  soft  there,     her  little  songbird.        ‘   please.   scott  kicked  your  ass.    i  should  get  you  boxing  lessons  or  something,    toughen  you  up.   ’

ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʙᴇ sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏᴏʟs ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʟɪғᴇ. Sinners flocked and atoned, reborn everyday in something as commonly found as water; deeds forgotten and forgiven in the eyes of those who created them with just a few words. Liars and crooks and criminals were reborn, reforged from the ashes of their own mistakes with something as simple as a blade. The life led, blood shed is nothing more really than the inky mess left behind to recount such tales. One of the many reasons Lark adored Charlie Townes was because they were of the same kind in a way;ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴠɪsᴛs.

ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴍᴀɴ ʜᴇʟᴅ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴛᴏᴄᴋ ғᴏʀ ʜɪs ᴏᴡɴ sᴛᴏʀʏ, one who’s chapters began only a few years prior. If he were to document his life as both writer and editor, he’d proudly omit the first decade and a half that came before. It was only very recently he’d stepped into the narrative himself, from observer to the observed and already it had cost him more blood and tears than he had been prepared for. Young icarus plastered in wax of his own making was already left with burns. Only in the last few months had he really felt alive.

Ardant spectator to atrocities grainy on dim screen, he had carved himself onto the pages  and been burdened with spectacular clarity. Lark Hernández had no past, and there was little future left for him in the space between sun and grave, but he was content with the blessings the present provided. It’s in these small, solar-painted moments he hopes he is remembered.

“Thanks.” Grin sits warmly on tired features as he feels Charlie’s hand etch across his skin, eyes resting in the gentle touch the reporter provided. How glad he felt that this chapter need not be a lonely one. “Not dead yet.” He teases in reminder, young hues opening to crest upon her visage.

“Boxing  lessons?  Now  that’d be something, huh?” A little laugh exhales into the evening as hands form fists and punch out lightly into the air before them. They drop to ring themselves, bandaged hands kissed together in humble steeple. “I’m sure I’m a Rocky in the making.”

“I could have taken him, y’know. If it’d been an actual fight and not, y’know, an ambush.” The guitarist had really come out of nowhere, an invasion into the small nest he had made for himself, and painted collected scraps with the bird’s insides. Vicious hound plucking at wing and sinew with unfair advantage. He had hurt Tibbs before, and he was happy to do so again. He could fly to  heights Scott could only dream of, leaving him down below in the dirt gagged with his own ego-stained fabric.

 “Is that where you’re headed after this?   He’ll probably be asking where you are, huh?”             

@slashre​                                                                                                                                   

[ofgxds]

slashre​:

…        HUMANITY  IS  A  STUPID  BEAST   :        it  growls and  reviles  against  the  dying  light        (        colton  is  glad  he  snuffed  out  the  dying  embers  of  his  own        …        it  would  not  serve  him  anymore,    refusing  to  yield  to  the  tender  grip  of  his  fingers        ).         they  sit  in  colton’s  palour,    flush  with  muted  browns  and  the  gentle  fragments  of  gold.     a  teacup  rests  against  his  palm,    an  aching  warmth  that  kisses  his  skin        …        most  killers        [          if  such  a  crass  term  could  ever  be  applied  to  his  art   :        he  was  little  more  than  an  artist        ]         had  become  so  unabashed.       there  wasn’t  any  decorum  anymore.

‘   some  believe  me  to  be  quite  a  dangerous  figure.   ’        his  smile  is  sickly  sweet  and  flush,     the  godly  benevolence  as  he  stares  down  at  the  weakened  creature.     lark  is  sparrow  -  boned  and  crowned  by  his  own  softness.         ‘   you  don’t  think  i’m  dangerous?       …        pour  yourself  more  tea.   ’

#cont        …         @ofgxds

The internet could be a ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀғᴜʟ ᴛʜɪɴɢ. A tool to connect, a tool to create, a tool to share. The web itself was not inherently evil. It was no more evil than…than a baseball bat, slick with jewelled ash as it sits on the shelf. It was the hands that commanded these tools that directed the evil, the sweaty sinner’s palms that strangled themselves around hilt and chose where to swing. The dirty little spiders that scurried to feast on the aftermath from behind their little screens.

Lark felt incredibly out of place. Colton’s place is probably the nicest place he’d ever stepped foot in. Wire-frame rests uncomfortable in plush chair, with scuffed converse resting soundlessly against immaculate floors. But Lark could be in some back alley for all he cared, It was not the majesty of the man’s home that brought the boy here. His own lips curve to smile in mirror of Colton’s own; a sense of relief in tight chest that he had made him smile.

“That’s all subjective.” He replies, the teacup held between both hands yet untouched. It burned just a little against skin where he had held it in one place too long, but the dull sensation went unnoticed. “But… I mean, yeah? You’re pretty dangerous, I guess.” He plays with both ends of answer, a candle determined to burn to the core in order to please. Lark wishes not to pander; he won’t be reduced to a fan-boy. But he can’t help but breathe in silent prayer the wish for Colton’s smile to continuing its blessing.

“You’re only a danger to stupid people,” He catches his explanation, freeing one hand to push his curls out of his face; he really needed a haircut. “And even then I wouldn’t say danger.” A wry smile creeps its way onto his features, “They’re lucky they end up a part of your content. Given their sad little lives some actual use.”

@slashre​

[ofgxds]

wantslife​:

@ofgxds​ :     “  what  hideous  sin  have  you  committed  lately?  ”

   patience has never been one of adam’s greatest virtues.   adam’s always been known for his hair - trigger temper,  his explosive anger,  his time - bomb nature.   restraint was not a word typically associated with adam faulkner - stanheight.   he’s TRYING   …   dear god,  he’s trying   …   but it’s not going all that well.     ‘ would you shut the fuck up? ’     huh.   not as nasty as he’d expected.     ‘ i don’t need a fuckin’ play - by - play of your therapy sessions.   i just asked if you actually showed up. ’

ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴀɪʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ғᴏᴏʟ’s ɢᴀᴍᴇ. It had been a thoughtless tease of the lips of the sinner that holier man dismissed with a snarl. Tough crowd. The rat struck back against flightless beast, both vermin of their own accord trying to make peace with their own strangled sense of devil and divinity. Claw and talon clash soundlessly, wordlessly in the air when light hues can bring themselves to glower at darker. Nothing could hide the disgust etched onto Adam’s tired features.

Lark looks away, ringing hands as he tries to straighten his posture; an unconscious gesture to affirm to himself that the photographer’s tone didn’t sting. Whatever creature had graced him with caring eyes or cautious advice had died long ago, corpse rotting in monochrome shadow of decaying tape. How much smaller Lark felt without the safety of a screen separating him from his consequences.

He scuffs foot against the ground, arms folding in on themselves as his mop of curls lifts to took at him. The sadness clawing at his own features would garner no sympathy here; he did not deserve it.

“Yeah.” His tone is smaller, guilt sour on his tongue as he can’t bear to look at him for more than a few seconds. That same disgust manifesting itself pointed inwards.  “I went. I’ve been going. I’m--- trying, dude..”

@wantslife​

[slashre]

Keep reading

[ofgxds]

He can’t stop his hands from shaking. He hopes Charlie is far too preoccupied to notice the tremor in his palm that inexperience betrays. She is gorgeous. Every gentle sound parted from lips a call to prayer and pious son bows his head. Lark’s breath is hot against skin, anxious in his excitement as he presses gentle kisses against her thigh. Heat clings shirt to thin frame and it seems discarding the other layer had brought with it no relief. She exudes both power and vulnerability with each second and how he prayed to exploit both. No one knew they were here. No one knew she was here, her hand tangling promise through curls and his tongue his lips anxious to devour.

Lark gasps just a little as she tugs harshly at his hair, giving himself over to the sharp pain it provided. Her guidance is appreciated as confidence grows, losing himself in his own morbid intoxication. Feeling her buck and writhe against him, with such little effort he could reduce her to a creature of base want and desire. In this moment here, his own shadow drew long, infiltrating and distorting as she was remade in his image; it was easy to see how Eve gave up everything for so little.

He feels her coat his lips, the crooked corners of devoted smile as she tightens her legs around him. The brunette couldn’t breathe, he didn’t want to. Lark’s body ached, drenched with the need to tear apart and to ruin. He can barely hear her over the sound of his own heartbeat thumping furiously over and over in his head, delving tongue deeper in sacrament as guttural groan traps in his throat. Call me that again he pleads wordlessly.

Hands unseeing brush against her legs and hold tight, blunt nails digging into heated skin as all at once he feels himself becoming just as undone as his guest. Violent images raptures thoughts and tongue trails up once more in defiant need for air; he doesn’t wish to drown just yet. Lark feels her digits tug harder, legs tuck tighter and he buckles, coursing flesh against flesh again. How her breath stuttered, how threat and guidance mingled into one ungodly being as he savours each taste and noise. No one knows she’s here.

Thoughts of breaking free, of snaking hand around throat, of fucking her until her body begged for release; for the end in both regards. To have her spill before him, face and hands painted red as pleas trembled out of her just as easy as her cries of affirmation. His groan is ravenous, desperate. Just the thought alone was bringing him to the edge.

@slashre​

[understands]

[ofgxds]

rabbitsrun​:

               oh   ,   dear   juliet   ,   can’t   you   see?   those   eyes   aren’t   one   of   your   dearly   beloved   ,   they   are   the   deathlike   slumber   that   you   will   fall   into.   like   frankenstein’s   monster   ,   he’s   reanimated   —   gangly   limbs   and   tubes   and   a   corpse-like   face   all   carry   the   signs   of   a   boy   beyond   the   grave.   HELD   TOGETHER   SO   LOOSELY   :   DESTINED   TO   FALL   APART   …                …   the   funny   thing   about   jigsaw   is   how   he   discards   his   little   dolls.   he   forms   them   ,   molds   them   out   of   their   own   bloodshed   ,   and   leaves   them   to   play   with   another.   sins   are   wiped   clean   in   his   eyes   ,   but   his   own   are   not   accounted   for   (   rehabilitation   is   nothing   without   guidance   :   for   what   do   the   lost   flock   do   when   found   again?   ).   a   so-called   shepherd   leads   nothing   but   questions   with   no   answers   ,   a   pain   with   no   resolve.   sat   in   a   small   circle   ,   head   low   ,   with   others   of   the   lord   herd.   survivors?   no.   they   were   ABADONED.                the   remnants   of   the   dead   echoed   beyond   the   boy.   it   bled   into   the   very   house   itself.   there   was   a   strange   emptiness   (   a   polaroid   with   a   cut   out   in   the   middle   ,   the   outlines   of   what   was   clear   in   the   composition   though   torn   away   ).   he   acts   like   the   phantom   of   a   man   isn’t   in   the   room   with   them   ,   small   smile   forming   as   nostrils   flare.

               “   you   really   shouldn’t   be   ,   ”   he   speaks   shyly   ,   voice   almost   lost   in   his   chest.   “   i’m   not   good   ,   aside   from   the   hand   stuff.   ”   he   lingers   in   the   moment   ,   feeling   a   horror   movie   chill   (   was   it   from   him   or   lark?   he   couldn’t   tell   ).   “   …   —   we   should   ,   go   upstairs   ,   yeah?   my   mom’s   cool   with   it   ,   as   long   as   the   door’s   open.   ”   his   thumb   points   to   the   stairway   as   he   speaks.   “   i’ll   ,   uh   ,   ”   his   thought   doesn’t   finish   as   he   grabs   onto   his   oxygen   tank   ,   wheeling   it   behind   him   as   he   makes   the   voyage   back   up   the   stairs   he   had   just   run   down.                it’s   an   arduous   task   ,   slender   fingers   clinging   onto   the   railing   with   all   strength   that   can   be   mustered   as   lungs   wheeze   and   groan   with   every   step.   eventually   ,   they   reach   the   top   ,   and   daniel   needs   a   moment   to   collect   himself.   it’s   a   quick   moment   that’s   ended   just   as   quick   when   lark   comes   around.   with   a   push   off   the   wall   and   a   small   smile   ,   he   leads   them   down   the   hallway.                if   there   ever   was   a   reflection   of   teenage   angst   ,   it   would   be   found   here.   grey-blue   walls   are   covered   in   various   posters   (   from   the   smiths   to   godzilla   1954   to   the   invisible   man   1933   ,   it’s   an   eclectic   collection   of   whatever   piques   his   fluctuating   interest   ).   but   the   largest   display   is   his   vinyl   collection   which   is   right   by   the   door   ,   a   worn   wooden   record   player   stand   with   two   small   speakers   by   it.   stacks   of   albums   rested   next   to   the   record   player   as   an   indication   of   his   listening   history.   pink   floyd   ,   green   day   ,   oasis   ,   radiohead.   an   organized   mess   :   disheveled   but   intentional.   his   space   was   kept   tidy   ,   though   ,   aside   from   a   pair   of   jeans   that   he   kicks   under   his   bed   quickly.                A   WOLF   CLOAKED   IN   LAMB’S   WOOL   IS   WELCOMED   INTO   THIS   RABBIT’S   DEN.                “   you   can   sit   wherever.   ”   daniel   gestures   vaguely   around   him   before   he   goes   to   his   desk   ,   pulling   out   his   chair.   “   i   didn’t   really   —   my   set   up   isn’t   meant   for   more   than   one   person   ,   so   ,   it’s   a   little   weird.   ”   he   tilts   his   monitor   towards   the   bed.   “   you   can   sit   in   the   chair   if   you   want.   ”   he   kneels   now   ,   opening   his   desk   cabinet   and   taking   out   a   neatly   wrapped   snes   with   two   controllers.   “   i   had   to   get   an   adapter   to   get   it   to   work   on   my   monitor.   ”   idle   chatter   as   he   sets   up   the   console.   “   it’s   not   really   meant   it   be   played   on   anything   not   from   the   nineties.   so   ,   had   to   make   it   work.   but   it   works   really   well   ,   i   think.   not   that   i’m   bragging   …   ”   his   small   tangent   ends   as   he   hands   the   other   a   controller.   “   be   careful   with   it   ,   okay?   ”   

ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏᴍɴɪsᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴀʏs ғɪʀᴍ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀs as you step through those church doors. It didn’t matter how many Sundays foot tracked one in front of another through that same old wood, didn’t matter how many familiar faces you saw, didn’t matter the tone of the day’s chosen hymn bleeding from pitchy organ; the ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ always remained. You were in His house now. And though you knew He saw all, He knew all- the eye of God felt that much more real when nestled into that pew. The guilt, each sin you spend weekday and weekday burying away comes to life, as you feel that ᴀʟʟ-ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴜʀɪɴɢ sight shine right through your soul. He felt that here too. That same weight seemed determined to stalk and mutate. Like it was his very own shadow, rotting into sickly vine tight around his throat; an awful cannula of his own making. It burned. He was in his house now. 

Lark could feel himself sweating already at the suggestion they retreat to somewhere more private. Was that same eye watching him now? The empty, unseeing hues of the dead etched in their photo frames were not a far cry from the mournful stained-glass raining their judgement in stark azures and reds.

“That sounds cool, yeah.” 

A voice, just as shy as Daniel’s manages to escape with gentle nod. The ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ specimen of a teen with a crush; gentle peach tinging skin as smile wrestles with seeming  too eager or not eager enough. There’s an almost awkward pause before Daniel decides to lead the way, that shadow of a boy slowly pacing behind him.

ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇ sᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴs; the casket lid is lifted. Each step up bleeds new story, threads new light upon the dusty bones left to decay in the tomb.. Lark didn’t know if he should offer him help, hands hesitant to interfere. He should probably spare him the dignity of it all, the angel betwixt informs him, but the devil reminds him to savour this moment. Each pant, each stifled grunt as Daniel battles with the effort of elevation was like call to prayer in of itself.

sᴏ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪs ʟᴇғᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ.That morbid curiosity held in young child as their shoes scruff across dew-blessed greenery, imagination running wild as they have to remind themselves: there are dead people underfoot. 

But Daniel is not dead, he is more alive than you could possibly imagine. Painfully so. Each laboured breath is stark reminder of the gift Jigsaw had imparted, that second life offered. This is what immortality looked like. Through Daniel, ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴋʀᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴠᴇ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ. He held his breath.

The small smile is returned, anticipation very much apparent between both boys as Lark follows him into his room.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected Daniel’s room to look like. If he was completely honest, he hadn’t given it much thought. When Lark lay back and stared at the boy’s name bright on his phone’s list of contacts, he didn’t picture him in his bedroom. It was in grainy resolution, stark black and white in off-colour collection of pixels. It was in arms folded in on each other, clinging to walls ravaged with peeling paper, as if wishing to succumb to the house itself. It was in the sickly silent screams, the inhuman frame-rate that tracked each step fleeing like rat in a cage.

But this was the room of just another teenage boy, no- the remnants of a teenage boy. What was left behind. Posters and pictures plastered like band-aids over the wounds of lost childhood. Teenage rebellion self-made screamed in obscure tastes. Lark couldn’t hide the smile that lingered on his features, removing the heavy case from his back as he takes the space on the bed offered. “This is so cool…” He breathes, more at the room itself than to Daniel, who he had to remind himself was even here.

Lark watched him set up the console, but couldn’t help but let eyes drift across the menagerie of new stimulants; surely a treat for the eyes. 

“I think that’s really awesome. You rigged this yourself?” He flashes a smile at the other boy shyly, tongue toying between lips as he takes the controller.

 “D’you uhm, mind if I sit here?” He asks in reference to the bed, “My back’s been…kinda playing up a bit.”  A half-truth twinkling in tawny eyes, he loves the image reflected back in Daniel’s ocean blues.

( ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟ sᴇᴇs ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢᴜʏ, ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟ sᴇᴇs ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ. ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟ sᴇᴇs ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʟᴀᴍʙ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʟғ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴᴇᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ-ᴅʀᴇɴᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏʀʏ ɪɴ ɪᴛs ᴄᴏᴀᴛ. )

 His back really had been hurting him recently, a cocktail of the couch he’d been sleeping on at Scott’s place and the fabric far too tight wrapped under baggy layers of grunge and plaid.

“I’ll be careful with the controller…-” He promises, sweaty palms clutching the controller carefully. “-…But I can’t say the same about you.” Lark finishes when Daniel sits down, a gentle nudge playful. “Told you, you’re goin’ down, guy. Who’d you main again? Please don’t tell me it’s Scorpion.”

@rabbitsrun​

[ofgxds]

rabbitsrun​:

               “   are   you   scared?   ”   she   asks   politely   ,   fingers   folded   behind   her   back   as   mary   janes   take   careful   strides   on   the   path   lightly   treaded.   she’s   a   preying   mantis   wrapped   in   dior   and   cherry - coated   smiles   that   whisper   such   sweet   nothings.   a   siren   ,   luring   sailors   off   to   sea   (   they’re   always   so   needy   ,   so   desperate   for   control   they   don’t   realize   they   never   had.   she   wonders   :   how   long   until   this   one   drowns?   ).                moonlight   follows   them   like   a   stage   light   ,   highlighting   the   main   act.   the   soft   scuff   of   her   shoes   mesh   with   cicadas   and   crickets   orchestrating   the   night   ambiance   as   gnarled   branches   cast   tendrils   of   clinging   shadows   that   fall   upon   the   two.   each   one   of   her   steps   is   calculated   ,   poised   ,   and   slightly   behind   the   song   bird   between   her   teeth.   “   you   should   not   be.   it   is   just   us   here.   ”

           closed   starter   for   @ofgxds​!

The invitation had ripped apart the veil. A man, a monster hidden behind screen names and pages and pages of text was nothing more than a boy of his own making. She, however, was just as devastatingly beautiful as she was online. Josie’s voice, her posture, was all as he had imagined it to be and more. There was never any deceit with the blonde, and that had carried true with even her online persona. It left cheeks red with shame, mop of curls unruly as they hid away wide eyes that trained carefully to the ground. Here he trod, scuffed converse against the undergrowth as they followed the forest’s path.

Everything felt so real now. She was real, the night’s air warm and suffocating against his skin was real, the sound of the woods alive in the virgin dusk so real. Lark’s chest felt even tighter in the woman’s company, the blistering reality that impossibly decadent tone provided.

“Scared? What—? No.” Lark lied, his words caught in his throat as they’re half coughed out. He straightens his posture just a little, eyes daring to flicker to the woman’s face before returning to their place on the trail. “Why…why would I be scared?” He asked in rhetoric, a half snorted laugh dry and incredulous trailing after in pretension of bravery.

She was a viper in the grass, precise and deadly in her hunt. What she was hunting for exactly alluded him, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. Here he was, sparrow-boned and eager to nestle himself in the snake’s maw, finding hollow home amongst fang and venom. 

“Just us. What could be better..?”

@rabbitsrun​

[understands]

[recaption]

[ofgxds]

i was left here to die.

He hangs onto his every word. His breath is stolen between the syllables given like revelation. Palms are pressed together in subconscious prayer, doing their best to hide glorious tremor that divinity offers. Left to die. Lark is more than aware of the terror that Xavier faced in his journey to enlightenment. Scarred flesh is kissed by angels, handsome features heavenly in the room’s subtle dark. What a collection of  wonders the musician had managed to shepherd to his tribe. Play your role. Xavier ! The rough-looking roommate of your frontman. Lark ! The unwitting lackey to said roommate. A roll of the eyes, a knowing glance when rock star opened maw to shriek.

Brows knit in well-practiced concern. “Shit man…” He breathes, pushing hand through his curls, bass guitar resting in his lap. “Fuck… I’m sorry,” an apology not for his circumstance, but for the lack of words in the face of such horror. He swallows hard, letting brown eyes melt to lighter shade. “How’d you.. get out? Shit’s fucked...”

@knifeneck