#alittlecurse

[squishy-lala-blog]

#alittlecurse

[letmebeyourkillerkxng-a]

❝I don’t need you messing up my head.❞ //what the hell, why not?

Hypnosis Meme || @alittlecurse

“Please, I would never do such a thing.”

[eyestellxlies-blog]

“are you even wearing pants??” [late but whateverrrr]

After he’d let Anthony in the room, he padded right back to the gigantic hotel bed and plopped down, and rolled so he was laying on his back. They had planned on going out somewhere, but obviously this had slipped the singer’s mind. His eyebrows raised as the question was asked, and he looked down at himself. He was in a large T-Shirt, some boxer briefs, and a pair of socks. “No...?” he said, as if it should be obvious. “Pants are for squares.” He rolled over, onto his stomach, and looked up at him. “And I most certainly am not a square.”

[hymnsforthemutilated]

white winter hymnals

Avery fidgeted. Glanced around. Worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he peeked out towards the tracks again. There was a certain thrill of this despite the inevitable, unsatisfying conclusion. After all, his body was none-the-wiser. His body saw the edge and envisioned itself before a cliff, and drowned its system in every chemical and hormone possible to keep itself alive. The thrill was in overriding that instinct and crushing it with his mind. The thrill was what the sight would do to the minds and bodies of the others around him. The thought of the traumas that’d set in when they saw him jump... 

He forced away his smile, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets in a futile attempt to work down the excited churning in his stomach. The train was set to pass in a few minutes, moving at just the right speed to really make a mess of his body - fast enough to splatter gore everywhere but slow enough to keep him in, more or less, one piece. He’d come back faster this way, and hopefully he’d be home in time for dinner. It sounded like a good plan. 

A few seconds pass before he’s inching towards the tracks again, his toes balancing carefully on the bright, dirty yellow of the warning strip, just inches before the plummet. He could see the grimy metal strips on the ground below and grit his teeth, his breath quickening despite his best efforts. Almost. Any second now...

[letmebeyourkillerkxng-a]

Say Your Prayers... [alittlecurse]

@alittlecurse

He was back in the game. Freed from the stupidity of the mortal coil he had been forced into. It was time to take back his crown, his throne, and his kingdom. Though it wasn’t like it was back in the old days, like how he’d just been thrown from power and kicked out of his own castle. It was political now. He swore things were dealt with in such a human way. Darkness had studied and learned the way the world was now and so he needed to amass a backing, a following if you will. And it turns out the name of the game was Religion. Humans seemed to love that crap. If that was how he got their devotion, so be it.

The immortal had retained his human form, still went under his name too. Amos. Hilariously it meant “Burdened” how ironic for the last human life he had to be named such. He work a deep red suit, with a black high collared priest’s shirt. What looked to be a rosary around his neck. The heels of his designer shoes clicking on the pavement as her walked, the styled back hair shifting now and again with each step and breeze. 

It was then he came upon this young man. He could taste the anger and rage and the violence in him. It was also evident by the whole ‘I just got out of knocked down, dragged out fight’ look the kid was sporting. This one was also different, he was special. Amos wanted him. So those long legs stop near where the young man was seated and he smiles at him from behind dark round glasses. Amos pulls out a cigarette, holding it between two fingers. Then he speaks, his voice smooth and deep and full of promise.

“Son.... you look like you need to be saved.”

The cigarette is lit.

[hazeyxpasey]

Hazel could smell horror and chaos, no matter where it lurked. They were ancient things that existed before reality burst into existence, and part of its essence had seeped into the new atoms and molecules of it all.

He followed his senses all over the world, looking for the things in the dark that were a part of him, things from before the world had moved on, before light was inescapable and the night had been usurped by it.

So he was quite confused when he found the source of the horror and chaos seemed to be a large building filled with half-grown humans with books, scurrying around when bells went off, all dressed the same, like an ant colony. Unfashionable ants at that. Though Hazel had little room to talk, he looked like a very small asylum escapee that had wandered into the place after a while living in the woods.

He lurked around the halls, staring unblinkingly as he watched them put things in small metal cupboards, and finding a complete lack of monsters. What sort of terrible human institute was this?

[snxfv-a]

ALITTLECURSE ;;

    — IT’S A COMMOTION IN A nearby alleyway that goes unanswered by passing witnesses, and it’s a VIOLENT one at that. There was a robbery, two men versus one poor soul they inflicted a merciless barrage of kicks against a dumpster to, as if their victim held a value no higher than a D̴̺͇̘̳I̶͎̙͚̱R̷̯̝̥̲T̸̤̙̙͉Y̵̦̦̦̫ ̶̟̫̦ͅS̸͔͕̫͖T̸̜͓̟̳R̴̥̫͍̼A̸̰͎̰̭Y̸̙̯͕̺ ̵̡̦̗̖D̶̨̦̩̠O̷̗̙̖̖G̴̺̣͔͓.̴̬͙͎̝

They chatter — MOCK and PROVOKE — above the almost inaudible sounds of movement in the black voids that painted the brick walls, unaware of the true PREDATOR that lurked within those shadows. The air grew still for a moment, one of the men left in question after having believed his ears had caught an unwanted guest. But when convinced otherwise, he turned back around only for him and his partner to receive coal-black talons swiftly cutting through their backs and out their fronts, wrenching them into the wall behind the third silhouette they belonged to with the strength that reduced them to mere ragdolls.

In their place stands a RUIN of flesh and bone, one that stares down at the other with ebony pools for eyes and a cigarette burning between ghostly pale lips. Crimson-stained hands alter into something a little more human for the time being, claws simply reconstructing themselves into nails as bloodied digits reach up and pluck the cigarette from a smiling sneering mouth.

        “Black and blue aren’t yer colors, darlin’.”

[candyapplefrank]

     Being the pastors son meant that Frank, the closeted gay teen, needed to remain closeted. His father had been a pastor at the same church for as long as Frank could remember, and Frank knew everyone that visited the church every Sunday. So much so, that he and his mother had to greet every single person, by name, every time his father held a service. It irritated the boy, but he had no choice, really, because if he ever so much as even tried to pull a sicky, his mother and father made him go to church, because God would heal all. Frank was often a sick boy, and the last thing he needed was to spend hours upon hours in a church.

     This Sunday seemed like every other Sunday, until Frank had to greet someone he didn’t recognise - and the kid looked high as hell. Frank was immediately drawn to the boy; however, he didn’t speak to the boy again and didn’t get his name. Frank didn’t suppose it mattered because as far as his mother and father knew, Frank was straight and a virgin. Well, the latter part was true, but the former, definitely not.

     Frank turned to his mom once the last few church-goers had entered and opened his mouth to ask permission to sit down. Frank received a nod and a gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him down one of the aisles and between the pews to their usual spot. Maybe Frank noticed that the boy was on the other side of the aisle, a couple of pews back -- the woman he was with looked rather stern.

     The pastors son shrugged it off and turned his full attention to the front of the church, where his father stood in the pulpit. Man, this sermon was gonna be difficult to follow with that little distraction sat a few rows back. Frank would have flushed red if he hadn’t been sitting directly beside his mother.

                                                 @alittlecurse