#centurykilled

[phoenixfiire-a-blog]

centurykilled replied to your post: i cant find a fc i want someone help

I HAVE A GOOD ONE

IM ALREADY LIKE 100 PLAIN ICONS INTO THIS FC I FOUND BUT LINK ME ANYWAY I MIGHT CHANGE IT

[phoenixfiire-a-blog]

centurykilled replied to your post: my least favorite part about blog making is making...

step one: poetic bullshit

BUT IM BAD AT POEIC SHIT

[questburdened-blog]

@centurykilled

Barry holds his own hand, tucked against his chest as he takes a few steps towards Lup.

“Hey... I have a question, can you promise not to laugh?” he ventures slowly as he takes a seat beside Lup. “It’s nothing serious!” he then promises, fixing his glasses on his nose better.

[ferocia-blog1]

❗- mindwashed im too lazy to switch blogs

@mindwashed / the nightmares before christmas / accepting !

it’s another restless night for addie, another night of tossing and turning, another night of dark dreams and no warmth of comfort. another fucking night.

this night is different, but still the same.

she hates it. perhaps because it reminds her of things she tries to forget, reminds her of the darkness of her memories, reminds her of the static. the things she doesn’t remember, and can’t. it hurts. it hurts so fucking much.

but someone’s there with her. she feels warmth, someone holding her. it’s leria.

“p-please.. don’t leave..” a whimper, shaky, a whisper in the quiet noise of their room. 

the static is overwhelming.

[abracafck-blog]

@centurykilled​ liked for a starter.

“No, worse,” he insists, and reaches past Lup to grab the wine off the sofa table. Pouring himself a large drink and returning the bottle to the table, he settles back into the comfortable pillows. His body is still wrapped in his ‘ let’s make a cute first impression ‘ date outfit – star-dotted leggings, a skirt of a flirty length, and a simple tank – and although he’s left the heels by the door, he’s way overdressed for a night in with wine and his sister. That’s because, originally, he’d planned on not coming home for at least another few hours, but Istus, his date with ‘ Magic Brian ‘ ( he did magic tricks as a hobby, which at first had seemed appropriately eccentric but turned out to be just plain weird ) did not go over well, so it’s honestly for the best that he’s here, letting his brain float around in some wine.

“See, when I say ‘ catastrophic ‘, I don’t just mean ‘ bad ‘ – except for when I do, but this isn’t one of those times, YEESH, lemme put ya out of your misery and just tell you: this dude, all he could talk about was his ex – and I don’t mean ex-boyfriend, I mean ex-fiancé – apparently he was called Bryan, too, but, like, with a Y (?), so it just sounded like he was constantly talking about himself in third person the whole time – and before you @ me, Taako’s the only one who does it with style.” He pauses to gulp some wine down. “So, not only is he really fucking hung up on his ex or whatever, he’s also very hot-then-cold. Like, I’m just tryin’ to do conversation and then he’s all ‘ oh, your voice is like a song ‘ but then when I try to make a move, it’s all ‘ that’s a little forward ‘, it’s like...choose a way to go, right? Especially if all we’re gonna end up with here is, like, a night of fun, and you better believe that’s good in Taako’s book, but at least send some clear signals either way.” He chugs another few mouthfuls. “Did I do something to piss the universe off??”

[abracafck-blog]

@centurykilled (cont.):

         she wraps her arms around him in the warmest embrace she can muster.  ( not too tight, not too loose. just the way she likes it. )  she feels pity, and empathy, and a hundred emotions all at once.  “ you— you don’t have to hurt, taako. you don’t have to hurt anymore. we’re together again, it’s gonna be okay. ”

His apprehension melts away at her touch. While her hold is perfectly stable, comfortable, his is a little too tight. Knuckles turn white as he clenches his fist into her robe. The moment is raw. For a few breaths, he simply lets himself depend and anchor himself against her. Then he gathers whatever emotional stability he has and slackens his hold with a breathless chuckle.

As he lets go of her with one arm, he uses it to wipe across his face, catching a few tears. He hooks the other arm around her neck in a jovial, friendly gesture and pretends it’s a coincidence that it will make it harder for her to see his face. “Alright, I get it: you’re the smart twin,” he jokes, though his voice still wobbles a little.