#blxckhxts

[sweetbitterbitten]

❝ every offering is a confession. ❞ ( from blxckhxts, for your muse of choice )

“and if i offer…nothing?”

[sweetbitterbitten]

❝ Don’t interfere. ❞ ( from blxckhxts, at muse of your choosing )

she is formed of interference its’ very self.

the order, therefore, is an impossibility; an anathema to her role, which will not be reversed its north star sensibilities….no matter the doffed cap or jaunty hat presiding.

she reserves all right to refuse.

“i’ll do as i like, thanks everso.”

[waterfrd]

@blxckhxts / continued from here.

HER HEART WAS beating a mile a minute, daring to burst right out of her chest. before she even has time to register it, the stranger is already far too close for comfort. she wants to lunge forward, to scoop up nichole from pram & into the safety of her arms. yet, the wife finds herself frozen in fear. “ please... ” as if that would do her any good in such a situation. his words ring through her form, gnawing at her as she faced the truth behind it. how much of what she sprouted off anymore was that of true devotion? serena herself may be a true believer, but many in gilead just repeated what was necessary to save face.

“ others may not, but i have full faith within god. ” would proving her devotion to the lord above save her in such a situation? she had a feeling it would not. “ now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. ” hebrews 11:1, part of her hopes he's familiar. “ please, leave us be. we... we won't report this, we'll leave calmly. ” a promise made for her & isaac.

[waterfrd]

First were beasts. Mutilated beyond recognition. From dainty deer to hundred-pound bears. Deposited along Gilead's perimeter. Found with bones snapped, bloodied. Grooves inches deep. Beginning and end of each week for a month straight.

A few hand-waves here and there weren't enough to calm the populace. Nor were meetings to glean information. Safety was an illusion. Security wasn't enough. By day, shadows haunted footsteps. By night, neck hairs prickled. And that childhood fear of the dark wasn't so childish anymore.

Then came people. Lifeless bodies pinned to the Wall, chunks of rebar driven through. Hard. Took a handful of men alone to yank them free, like a twisted sword in the stone allegory.

( from blxckhxts )

IT'S FRIGHTENING, REALLY, how powerful the rebels have seem to become. serena knows she isn't to worry herself with such a thing, the news reports on television would state that the fight was going well. that the angels were succeeding without fail & more land had been reclaimed, but serena knew otherwise. fred had told her, one night after perhaps too much to drink. such things were not to be shared with wives, with women of any kind. this was "beyond" them, too much for a female brain to comprehend they say.

such information has plagued her ever since. a new baby within the house already made the waterfords a greater target for some sort of attack, from rebels or otherwise. serena should have just had isaac drive her to the prayvaganza & back, kept her within the safety of the car with it's bulletproof windows. why had she insisted on walking? on pushing nichole within her pram by the river where the cameras barely reached? the idea of fresh air & blooming flowers had clouded her judgement.

spotting @blxckhxts mere feet before her stops the wife within her tracks, blue cloak swaying in the wind. spring breeze, far from exceptionally hot, all in all very fine weather. too bad her enjoyment of such a thing was halted by the pounding of her heart beneath her breastbone. serena can hear it, the sound of her guardian shifting behind her & adjusting his grip upon his weapon. “ isaac... ” she looks over her shoulder a moment, an unspoken command not to escalate the situation unless necessary. her attention returns to the figure mere feet away, grip upon the pram's handle tightening. “ b... ” words are caught a moment. “ blessed day. ”

[hidefire]

@blxckhxts … continued.

Rain has quite the ego, especially when it comes to her powers, but she is not stupid. There is only so much that she can handle, and thousands? Well, that’s definitely pushing it.

“Mm, so I stay here and let you feast on me instead? No fucking chance.” But if there’s one thing about her that’s not going anywhere, it’s her stubbornness. And if he doesn’t want to her leave, she just might do it out of spite.

[alaricseer]

[ push ]   your muse pushing mine into bed + [ pin ]   your muse pinning mine down ( feral-esque vascar, blxckhxts )

@blxckhxts

In a different setting, he might have offered a proper struggle. Less out of a real objection, and more for the principle of it; he didnt like to appear weak, even when it was true. Metal-sick, and barely adjusted to the movement of the train, ala found himself flat on his back with no more fight than a curse. It really was embarrassing.

"You are such a gentleman." His tone was mocking, but lost its bite with how quickly his gaze moved to Vascar's mouth. A very foolish part of him wanted to tip his head, to show off his throat in a bid to push the other man further- and Ala listened to it.

"Thirsty? Or is this another hunger?"

[chcsingdrecms]

@blxsscd-x-fxrsakcn/@blxckhxts asked for a thing ;) and gets azrael

There's danger here. The Angel is no fool, despite how lackadaisical he could be when the mood strikes him. Instead he listens, eyes closed, Grace open to the world at large, taking in what could be sensed-- taking note and weighing his opinions. Nothing called him here, despite the bloodshed, even if something nagged at the back of his skull.

Inhaling deep, chest raising with the effort, something so human from something divine, a facade Azrael wore so well. "Were you planning on showing yourself, or were you hoping I wouldn't notice?"

[chcsingdrecms]

“ i am th' end of all things. an' you're in m'way. ” ( for crow, from blxckhxts )

The familiar scent of blood that tempers the urge to play the guard dog-- must being someone familiar if death clings so easily to the figure in black. Maybe the blunt force trauma is making him forget faces, not that that would change how he's been treated. At least his nose still works, even if there is something under the so distinctly different under that coppery smell that Crow has come to know.

"Do I know you?" His voice is hoarse from disuse, accent chipped and faded like his voice.

@blxckhxts