* INNOCENCE / LOST.

you are the gardens of babylon, atlantis, mount olympus. no one knows whether you ever existed at all. penned by k.

[rvselaced]

me logging on after a long week & reading that plot drop

update : i love the new positions .................... might make a new character to fight™ ................ talk me out of it please

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iii. kaliah blake.

kaliah flicked the ash off the end of her dwindling joint, watching the night’s events proceed with a faint smile on her lips and careful eyes. caito was her uncle— her mother’s brother, a part of her life for as long as she could remember, occasionally visiting their houston home before the girl had made the move with her father to valdez, her uncle eventually becoming her boss. he had always ensured she was well taken care of, especially during her father’s incarcerations. it was strange, now, to think him gone. he had been so much to so many people, a thousand sides to him. “well, i never thought things would get so… unfortunate after he died. but this town has been pretty damn unlucky. he would’ve loved this, though, this is fucking perfect,” she let out a small breath of laughter. “you enjoying it?”

smiles never reach their eyes. the same people whose tears fall from their RIGHT eye instead of their left. gavin makes a note that eyes crinkle when someone smiles; that despair weighs heavy on eyes, drags them down to the ground. it reflects in kaliah’s visage, though still holds a smile that hides glassy eyes. they know the feeling. ‘ would he? i’m glad. everyone should enjoy whatever party happens ‘cause of their death. ’ a pause. their attention turns back to the looming shadow of artificial melancholy. ‘ i like picking out who’s faking tears and who’s not. makes for interesting observations, wouldn’t you agree? ’

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iii. harlow procter‌.

‘ I think we were at the same party. ’ harlow moved her sleeve just enough to reveal the bruise, wondering how close they’d been to the actual bomb. by the looks of their leg, it seemed they were a lot closer than her.  

when she hears the story of the bar, she can’t help the nostalgic wash that comes over her features. being a teenage daughter of a mom who owned a bar was a fun time with too many good memories to count. 

‘ a lot of the stuff got rattled off the shelves in the aftermath, but i’m sure there’s some pop in the back. ’ she nodded to the bartender currently rehanging some curtains. 

concern festers under their skin like an infection. they know what those ugly shades of purple and blue FEEL like. but apologies wouldn’t do anything. it wouldn’t undo the bombing. or their stupid injuries. so gavin stays silent, decides to make bitter observations instead. ‘ i knew i shouldn’t have gone. should’ve just stayed home and let people talk all they wanted. i suppose it’s better though –– then people might’ve thought i had a hand in it. ’ brewed resentment overflows in an acerbic cadence that they almost miss. it pinches at their cheeks, turning them a faint damask. then their alabaster features default to a vacant tenderness. ‘ should you be cleaning up with that bruise? i mean, doesn’t it hurt? ’ they pause, looking for a delicate way to phrase their sentiments. ‘ overworking yourself might not help. ’

[rvselaced]

iii. andrea garcia‌.

               ‘ i’d look hot ripping a guys neck out nevertheless what my nails look like , babe. ’ the words came out with a sense of confidence , features lighting up at the thought of the torturous subject at hand , hands craving the chaos & her body tingling to be in control once again. ‘ getting his ass kicked by a woman in heels larger than his dick should be humiliating enough. ’

thoughts flit to a lioness using sickle-like claws to rip out her prey’s throat, maw feasting on the flesh of its weakly struggling meal. ( kill him ) the litany thrums in her veins, like a heartbeat. light grasp of their previously forgotten drink shocks the mantra from their body. cold and grounded and constant. ‘ how ‘bout a toast then? to the big dick energy of stilettos. ’ they life up their glass with an incline of their head. a glint reflects in their eyes; like the smiling side of a knife. ‘ i’d pay to see that though y’know. someone else beating on a man that DESERVES it. judge, jury and executioner but actually hot, right? ’

[rvselaced]

iii. mariko braun‌.

❛  — perhaps. ❜  she shrugs thoughtlessly, a slow intake of breath as if the very particles were something she could somehow WEAPONIZE around her. looking at the other upon their inquiry, mariko didn’t have an answer per se, but the idea was well settled.  ❛  i’m saying it takes someone to know exactly what we were going to be doing in order to make something like that happen. and you know what they say, if it WALKS like a duck, talks like a duck ——– ❜ she didn’t exactly have any suspects, either.  ❛  i mean, anyone, really. could be you. HELL could have been me.  ❜

‘ is that a confession? i’d rather you went to church for a confession. then it’d be the PRIEST that’d get beat up ‘cause they knew about a mole and not me. ’ inflection dips into exasperation instead of ire. the fact that she could be a mole doesn’t even faze them, just leaves them with a cold disinterest for her. just as long as she stays away from them, kill whoever she wants. ‘ i don’t know why you’d draw attention to it if you’re not though... ’ accusation wanes lamely. really, they shouldn’t waste the time of someone like her. gaze lights up; a rising sun of interest in their shadow of apathy. ‘ maybe we should scout them out. no one would expect –––– WELL, no one would expect me. ’

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I am troubled and harsh and hopeless. Though I have love inside me. But I don’t know how to use love. Sometimes it scratches like barbs.

Clarice Lispector, tr. by Elizabeth Lowe, from Água Viva / The Stream of Life (via violentwavesofemotion)

[midsommars-deactivated20201109]

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iii. ford kinsella.

“ m-mm, ” ford hummed disapprovingly, slowly stepping in front of the door as his large stature serves as a barricade. “ turn around. ”

‘ if you wanted to look at my ASS you could’ve just asked. ’ they resist the urge to take a step away from him. ‘ either way, it’s a no from me. you are the one who’s moving. ’

[rvselaced]

iii. brennan fischer.

they   were   having   a   normal   conversation     ,     about   something   random     ,     unimportant     ,     before   a   lull   washed   over   them     .     a   few   minutes   had   passed   &   the   red   head   was   on   his   phone     ,     thoughts   overtaking   him   as   he   began   to   chew   on   his   lip     .     he   almost   didn’t   want   to   say   anything     ,     to   break   the   comfortable   silence   they’ve   created     ,     but   the   words   were   falling   before   he   could   stop   them     .     ❝     you   ever   shot   someone     ?     ❞     sure     ,     the   question   came   out   of   left   field     ,     &   maybe   he   shouldn’t   be   asking   just   anybody   that     ,     but   the   male   had   yet   to   do   so     .     &   for   some   reason     ,     he   thought   that   being   in   this   field   for   5   years     ,     with   the   amount   of   times   that   he   was   whipping   his   gun   out   to   scare   someone     ,     he   should’ve   been   more   than   capable     ,     right     ?     &   as   much   as   he   likes   to   put   on   the   facade   that   he’s   able   to     ,     he   isn’t     .

streaks of light shine through the curtains, all neon and BROKEN. easy to focus on. he speaks and their inner monologue is already forgotten. words catch in their throat with the stickiness of remembrance. an image of lessons with their uncle holding a gun flashes, unbidden, before their eyes. sharp contours of the gun tickle at their fingertips; an itch they can’t, won’t scratch. they fold the memory neatly and place it back into its drawer. ‘ no, i haven’t. ’ offhanded reply. good. maybe then he won’t deduce their thoughts from their disposition. ‘ why –– you planning on killing someone? ’

[rvselaced]

iii. nikolas petran‌.

two fingers PINCH the bridge of his nose, the drink to his side is still full. his head hurts from listening to the clamoring of day to day BULLSHIT but he lets out a sigh and leans back in the booth a fictitious smile upon his features,  ❛  and what exactly do you want ME to do about your little problem, hm?? ❜

sculpted brow quirks with a cant of their head. fine, if that’s how he wants the conversation to go. ‘ nothing. you couldn’t do anything even if you wanted to. ’ cadence tickles with the bite of arctic atmosphere. not even a shade of wind. ‘ i was just venting. ’

[rvselaced]

iii. alejandra pavia.

‘  i’m open to many things, i really am—– but this  ?  ’  she flashes the wishlist that a potential client’s just sent, glowing grotesquely on her screen, bright eyes widening in horror as she recoils the phone back.  ‘  i feel like that has to be unethical in some way. and a little painful,  no  ?  ’

the obnoxiously bright screen doesn’t scatter their senses; the savage nature of the person’s wishes does. it pinches their eyelids, clings to their lashes like a fresh tear. ‘ just think about the money. or that they can’t get any without paying for it, like a loser or something. ’ a hollow laugh crowns the advice with twigs of bitter pathos.

[rvselaced]

iii. ileanna bomba.

face scrunching as she took a bite out of what they’d extended, “ okay this is gross. ” grimacing as they chewed and swallowed. “ ugh, i’ve swallowed some gross shit in my day but that was probably one of the WORST. ” sticking her tongue out before continuing to ramble one, “ how do you eat those all the time ? better fuckin question, how has it not killed you yet. ”

‘ you can’t die from eating something just because you don’t like the taste. ’ statement drawls with the weight of sarcasm. ‘ it’s yummy, you’re just being a bitch about it. ’

[rvselaced]

iii. lorelai mitchell.

               she was bored. with the police around every corner & many unable to bring in their cut at the end of the day , bookkeeping was almost useless. her days consisted of drinking her ice coffee & shopping online or making templates of what she wanted to paint apartment. sinking down in her seat , she ran her slim fingers through her blonde hair , hues finally meeting the other across from her. ‘ you know , if you pick up the tail of a kangaroo , they’re unable to jump. ’ she stated , saying the first thing on her mind.

boredom entwines their body like vines; around their waist, between their ribs, up their neck. it suffocates them, turns their eyes into dulled diamonds. they’re about to surrender to another hole of daydreams when the other blonde speaks. ‘ i don’t think i’d be able to HOP away if someone grabbed my hair either so... ’ it trails into the bunching of their shoulders. ‘ it’d probably put up a better fight than me though. ’

[rvselaced]

iii. sloane valentine.

    ‘  some PRICK just fell into me at the bar, nudged my chest, and said it was for balance,  ’  vivid hues roll backwards, scoffing at the notion.  ‘  you don’t grab these for balance.  ’

‘ prick. i hope someone broke his nose. ’ a conviction that barely escapes clenched jaw and tight-lipped smile. ‘ we should go find him and break his nose ourselves. ’

[rvselaced]

iii. hayden cabrera.

❝ did you fucking see this ? ❞ hayden asked, slamming the newspaper against the table, a deep sigh escaping his lips. the café as crowded as usual, but his angry question still echoed around him, startling looks from people all across the place. ❝ can our lives get any fucking worse ? like, for real. first the bombing, then the feds, and now this shit. it’s like karma is finally catching up to everyone. ❞

‘ yes it is. ’ they answer calmly, taking a sip from their coffee cup. ‘ and it’ll catch up to THEM too. ’ a vacancy freezes over their eyes. their head doesn’t even turn as they pluck each syllable with a harsh tug. ‘ what do you expect us to do about it, hayden? here –– in the coffee shop? ’

[rvselaced]

iii. amma simmons.

Amma looked up at the mangled mess of rope and flesh, it was taking them forever to get it down. And the meat was starting to cook in the summer heat. Covering her mouth with her sleeve, to passers by it would look like she was distraught over the sight. But really, she just couldn’t stand the stink. 

Whoever it was who strung up the poor bastard, they were fast, brutal and had style. The first two were traits to be admired in her line of work. The last one, was a double edged sword. 

It made you stand out, but it also made you stand out. 

Whoever did it, they sure as hell sent the message. 

the inclination of betrayal isn’t foreign to them; another web of FEAR that catches and hangs among their aureate strands. a faint pang in their leg reminds them of why they should be celebrating the death. they should be. ‘ this is a horrible thing to watch. i don’t want to watch anymore. ’ and yet; their eyes never leave the descending carcass. absent reaction to the frothing putrid smell echoes in their thoughts, in their inflection. ‘ i’d hate to think what their dying words were. or what they thought as they fell. ’

[bopeep]

w/ a monotone voice “wow that is so wild”