bring my body home

/ˈpōltərˌgīst/ a ghost or other supernatural being supposedly responsible for physical disturbances such as loud noises and objects thrown around. ＶＩＯＬＥＴ· ＨＡＲＭＯＮ

[pcltergeizt]

I'm just really sad and I'll probably be deleting this blog honestly; along with many others idk i just can't do it anymore so yeah sorry

[pcltergeizt]

im the worst sorry;; im still alive i promise ahh

[sinfultaint-deactivated20140323]

         "Oh, don’t worry.  I still think you’re gross."

                          Oh, no. Little flower with square shaped hips, and flourishing                            golden blonde hair, an almost exact color of a summer sunset                           was far from gross. He lies when he calls your homely    He just                           wants you to think that he thinks these things. He’s afraid that if                           you think high of yourself you’ll gain enough confidence to think                           that you’re better than to be with him, and you’re already almost                                                 there, aren’t you flower?

She’s cool as sin, the way she s l i t h e r s up to the brown eyed son with such confidence, like she might be the only one who wasn’t afraid of him, and she wasn’t,  and that’s the problem. She’s not afraid of him, he’d been to lenient on her    

       "Dissect me?"

Oh, this elicits a low snort.

               "You aren’t smart enough for that."

                            Truancy catching up to her. 

[pcltergeizt]

                    She's donning an over-sized white t-shirt--- one corner in the front                           tucked into the hem of tight jeans; bunched and loose over bird-wing                           shoulders. She is tired and it shows under her eyes--- the way she                           carries herself closer as if she'd like nothing more than to put a                           cigarette out in each of his eyes until it sizzled into nothingness in                           the sockets. She doesn't take his insult to heart; hardly acknowledges                           it at all. The neck of the shirt too large for her frame; hangs loose to                           expose collar---- female James Dean as she leans down to his level                           and places hands on her knees-- back arched like a spoon.

                                        ❝ Cutting people up into pieces isn't all that hard.                                         Though I guess blowing their brains out is easier.                                                             Isn't that right? ❞

                    She takes a seat beside him; glancing over the other with a self-satisfied smirk--- pulling out a cigarette and lighting the business end of it. He'd know, wouldn't he? Pulling a trigger and knocking out a few lives is a whole hell of a lot easier than having to look them in the eyes while you scoop out their innards.

                                        Ｐｕｓｓｙ．

[sinfultaint-deactivated20140323]

          "What kind of fun can you have with a dead mouse anyway?

                          The answer he had thought up, was none. Unless she were                           planning to dissect the thing, and r i p out it’s minuscule insides                           which most likely would have not been strange to the Violet. He                           wouldn’t have underestimated if she were having those thoughts,                           because he knew she was. Death made you do things like that,                           your rotting brain had been coughed out all the way almost, and                                                   sooner or later all that would be is the dementia it left you with.

Watching Violet lose it like that was a guilty pleasure. Because he knew he was half reason for her internal complications. The psycho is now sitting perched up a wide dimpled grin settled on his face, because if she  were looking for entertainment, he’d amuse her.

       "If you want, we can go to your room and you can play with me."

Not the play you think. The kind of play that involved rusty toys,  and the draw of blood.

[pcltergeizt]

                    Oh, we must be so satisfactory to watch-- aren't we, dear                           golden boy? We're sure it's fun to watch the way our former                           selves have been splayed open and picked through by                           careful and knowing hands--- to pick out all the good and                           cast it aside; to continue to rifle through our thoughts and                           trade fond memories for bitterness and the want for carnage.

                    Violet eyes him with a rather indignant expression, before casting the mouse aside and to the floor with a wet huff on a tongue the color of summer strawberries. Maybe she had thoughts of tying you up and force-feeding it to him, but his seemingly unphased expression puts a damper on her parade.

                                        ❝ You're supposed to be grossed out. ❞                     She's really not sure why she thought he would be; he's seen a lot                     worse than a small, dead mouse. His final words bring her rounding                     in closer on thin ankles and bare feet---- a near sadistic grin on soft                     lips; tugging at he corner where tiny birth mark graces pale flesh.                                         Closer and closer--- until she can nearly feel his breath.

                                               ❝ I could tie you to the bed and ｄｉｓｓｅｃｔ                                                                               you like a science experiment. ❞                                                             She's only kidding..... sorta.

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Visit Original Link

[pcltergeizt]

[sinfultaint-deactivated20140323]

                          No need to call out for the psycho, he’s already here.                           In fact he’s been here. Slouched back in an ancient chair                                                                 with mahogany fabricings, arms perched up on the wood                           arms. Are you sure you want him to appear to you?                           He’s been terrible, there’s blood on his hands, and he’s                            eager to place them around the cool skin of your n e c k.                           Obsidian eyes divert up to the brown eyed daughter.                            He’s here now    and he’s watching you play with dead things.

                     He’s rubbed his contamination on you   Hasn’t he?

                             ❝ Getting so lonely you’ve turned to dead toys?❞                                     

[pcltergeizt]

                    She wonders--- if you were to place your digits around her neck                           and hers around yours; who would choke down the sweet touch                           of death first? More than likely herself just because she can't                           fend off a body so much taller and larger than hers--- he trumps                           her by default, but she can still dream, can't she? Go ahead and                           bruise pale flesh, dear golden son---- she's not made of porcelain;                           and she'll hunt you down later to gather her pound of flesh. His words                           elicit an arch of thin brow and pearly teeth tug onto her lower tier when                           she turns to eye him with a very self-satisfied smirk.

                                        ❝ You ruin all my fun. Shithead. ❞

[sinfultaint-deactivated20140323]

♥♥ [ kisses you and runs away !! ]

Send me (♥♥,) and i'll generate a number to see what you get

17. A steamy kiss

He’s had a strict gaze locked on the lower part of your part of your back, and though you can’t see him, you may be able to  feel the light trickle of sultry breath swivel down your spinal cord   You hate and you love it, and you’re caught right? because you’ve told yourself that you’re done with him, and  you’ve convinced yourself that the feelings you have for him were completely abhorrent, but how weak do you feel? When you can’t help that you like the way his hands fit perfectly around your little waist. Slipping into your back like a serpent in a rose bush.  His venom mixing with the sweet mellifluous black rose, which is you.He makes you writhe, and when he dips his curly head down to kissyou right on the side of your neck with his tongue   You let him do it,                             because you aren’t as convinced as you think you are.

                                                          Atleast your b o d y isn’t.

[perksofadarkparadise]

Visit Original Link

[pcltergeizt]

                    Whistling through the curve and bite of perfectly lined pearl teeth,                           Violet Harmon dangles a dead mouse between the pinch of her                           index finger and thumb--- hanging by the curl of its tail. She'd found                           it in the crawlspace of the basement; where he'd stowed her body                           away for days---- remember, Tate? She calls out a dog-whistle                           as if there were still a tiny white canine that belonged to her mother                           wandering through the halls, or curled at the foot of her bed. No,                            she's calling out for the big-bad-wolf this time.

                                        ❝ Where are you? I found something cool. ❞                                         Not really--- don't entertain her.

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[pcltergeizt]

ksjakdjsdljals I miss writing on this account and um writing in general but this fandom makes me skittish ugh listen to me some of you assholes are so annoying honestly you are a headache

[browneyedson]

Hands continue to tear away the small built bridge of platonic friendship between two bodies—This body knew hers but not on the level the dark entity was pushing upon. This version wanted to have her taste on his tongue, with the reminisce of her curves, the nudity lingering behind rip-able clothing. His mouth his watering at the mere thought, hips pressing into hers upon pure instinct when she herself rolls her pelvis up into him from the touch of his hand petting her covered sex, a curious greedy young teenager.            “Awh poor baby—-Never had sex, just got his first kiss from a girl,                                                         a pity kiss of all fucking things.” Langdon was in a deep fit of shame over the innocent half of this tortured soul, mumbled words must vibrate against that beautiful sun-deficient pastered white skin, rippling and she tastes like oranges as the young darkness skims his teeth over the bone of her jaw, tongue flicking against the hollow of her skin, nipping and breathing with the need for more.                                                        “But you already are my play thing, stupid girl.” Head shake and the boy takes his hand out of her shirt, sitting back just enough to move his hands to cup her shirt, rip the collar just enough for the bare of her tit to show, an overwhelming sensation clouds the young entities judgement and Langdon leans down, groping her exposure with his harsh hand, keeping her pinned—-Keep her down while his kitten pink tongue descends over the rose bud center of Violet’s breast, a happy purr. He really did have a thing for tits, there’s no time to explain the inner workings of his perversion and sensuality, a soft hum and Tate’s mouth, borrowed for the evening suckles softly on her teeth with a press of his hips against her, shrugging, biting sharply with the turn of conversation.                              Langdon thrusts his head back, eyes shutting with the angry exhale of air through his nose. “—-Yes and I don’t give a shit, Violet. The world is going to ruin him, high school, life—-People, will ruin him any-fucking-way. At least when I do it, I do things that benefit him, like finally getting his dick wet.”

[pcltergeizt]

                    She hears him speak through ivory teeth and the curl of beckoning tongue--- it's distant and her head warps his words because it's too busy filling itself with white noise; the push and rub of his hand into the space between her legs too much for her to focus on anything else. It's been a long time since she's been touched by anyone other than herself; hasn't felt the thrill and swell of excitement within the very cage of her chest as someone presses their body into hers.

                    Already his plaything--- she doesn't belong to anything, but unholy ground she's been damned to remain shackled to for the rest of her existence. However, the way he speaks it---- like he's already taken ownership of mind and body having only just seen the first of her; it elicits chills to creep up her spine; skipping stones on her ribs and bringing lithe back to arch up from the mattress at the tugging at the collar of her shirt. He exposes the swell of a small breast and is quick to cover it with his mouth-- tongue fluttering and hot breath burning into her flesh.

                    She doesn't see much of an appeal--- in the eyes of many, she'd always been rather flat-chested. Enough to fill your palm, but also enough to wear sweaters without ever really needing a bra. When those things mattered, anyway; when she still carried a flush in the curve of her cheeks and when being at school every morning was still something that mattered.

                                        ❝ A--hhhh----  ❞                                         It's a tiny hiss of a noise that leaves her. Exits when                                          Tate's tongue---- Langdon's tongue teases the sensitive                                         bud in the middle of her breast. Teeth dig in; he'll earn                                         himself another whine in the chasm of her throat with                                         head tossed to the side and legs drawing his hips in                                         even closer to clash against her own.

                    ❝ How very thoughtful of you. ❞ Her voice is hoarse, but drips with sarcasm-- a smirk on petal lips as she manages to wedge a leg beneath him again--- hands on his shoulders when he leans back enough to sigh-- knee keeping him at bay once again; pressed into the plate of his chest. ❝ Don't you think it defeats the purpose then? If you're the one fucking me instead of him? ❞

[pcltergeizt]

creeps onto dash

turns around and creeps away again yeah nvm

[pcltergeizt]

[widowsflesh-deactivated20140216]

I drop everything for you, and what do i get are you serious right now. are you fucking serious right now.

[pcltergeizt]

sTOP

[browneyedson]

“You can call me…….. Langdon” Tate was soft, loving and his heart was filled with fluffy rhymes and the drive to be someones Romeo—He wants to know what love is, he craves it like Langdon craved nicotine. Tate wanted to settle his stomach, cradle him at night and keep the darkness inside his head at bay. Violet wasn’t the girl for this job, Langdon could take her for his personal pleasure and it wouldn’t make a difference, what’s another broken hearted boy to the world?            Cruel girls ripped and crushed hearts on the daily and Langdon was simply protecting his beloved little reflection. She’s spread and comfortable below him, if the young entity had it in him he’d feel embarrassed at the lack of tone to drive into her with, Tate’s cock has never been used by anyone besides his own angry hand. Slapping away at long rock hard skin, hips swivel slightly upon the thought and the darker mindset wiggles against her,  with a happy wide smirk—As if he could give any other unfaltering expression. Sculpted on like stone, the model of perfection snakes his hand down, puffing on the cigarette with his lips and lips alone while Tates body leans up just enough to wedge the over sized palm between them and greedily begin to rub at Violets covered crotch, a happy contented sigh at the warmth residing between. It was going to be a real bitch when this high wore off and the mindset switched back.                                                     Of course, Langdon knows it doesn’t have to be that way. A loud snorting laugh is given with his head leaning back to expose that bobbing Adam’s apple on the young sons throat, purring with a content, cigarette remaining in the side of his heart shaped mouth. “—-Please, don’t act like you’re fucking him” Eye roll and Langdon continues to stroke the pads of his fingers along her covered sex, pressing in firmer and he takes a gander down, wondering dark eyes—-Always getting into trouble. “Hows about you blow me and I’ll eat you, we don’t have to tell Tate, you can tell him he had a wet dream or something.” Puppy dog pout and Langdon ashes the cigarette onto the floor before squishing it out. ”Besides, I’m not very good with sharing, I’m afraid.” Left hand sneaks up under her shirt, groping Violets breast while his mouth bites at her jaw, kissing it adoringly, as if he wasn’t trying to harm her.

[pcltergeizt]

                    Ｌａｎｇｄｏｎ is the name gifted to the thing that wears Tate' face-- even steals his last name with hungry identity crisis; he is cruel and wicked while Tate is off, hiding elsewhere with over-sized sweaters in hot weather and running shoes. Tate is the type that you mess with because sometimes it'll earn you a flush of color across the canvas of his cheeks, or a hiccup of stuttering words as he trips over them nervously. Langdon is the type that you image strung up and splayed out like a dissected and marred Jesus Christ-- with blackened eyes and sharpened teeth.

                    Hand snakes between them and palm presses in--- eyes flutter for a short moment; she'll even reach out to drape thin arms over the bows of his shoulders. She's good at keeping quiet; even with honey hues threatening to roll into the cradle of her skull and neck threatening to tip back, she fights to remain composed, because wouldn't that be what he wants? She's not exactly ready to lie back and give him what he wants; there's not fun in that. And Tate--- he's tucked away, but he's still there. Would he know where his hands had been?

                    She watches the way he speaks-- smoke follows each word from the cigarette balanced with ease between his lips. ❝ I'm n-------ot fu--cking him. I'm. I mean; he's a virgin. ❞ And there is it. It's not about him being concerned that she fucked someone; not that she ever got much a chance to--- it was more or less the fact that Tate was a virgin and his body was virginal; while Langdon used it to place his hands wherever he so pleased. A soft mewl and she arches into him-- hips push up into the touch of his fingers that press down with a wet huff on her tongue. And can you blame her? She can't remember the last time she'd been touched.

                    She's not made of glass--- if he's going to hurt her, then he's going to hurt her; but instinct sticks with you even in death and there's a silent alarm going off in the back of her head that tells her she'd better tread lightly. Hand up her shirt to cup the bare curve of her breast and his mouth is at the line of her jaw-- she cranes it to the side and lets lashes kiss the tops of her cheeks for a short moment; voice hoarse when she speaks. ❝ Sharing? I don't care if you fucked me stupid--- I still wouldn't be your plaything. ❞ She says it, leaning close to his ear, brow raised. There's a grin on her lips--- eyes cast him a side-long glance in the close proximity; before a smaller hand slips between them to cup the swell of him behind his jeans. ❝ You're going to ruin him--- you know. ❞