#gordon#circus au#he totally has a ring like this#either made it himself or someone in the troupe made it for him
was gonna suggest that maybe like bran made it for gordon sometime when they were replacing gordon's guns and its made from oneof the old ones ??? yeah
imagine it bein on his middle finger or something and him going to knock someones lights out with it when drunk peple who have been shot out of their money (by him) get a bit rowdy
or something
:v
and rise with me forever / across the silent sand / and the stars will be your eyes / and the wind will be my hands.
[a playlist for those who wander the earth for thousands of years, yet the swamp lights will always guide them home.]
1. house of the rising sun (animals) // 2. my body is a cage (arcade fire) // 3. far from any road (the handsome family) // 4. down to the river to pray (alison krauss) // 5. maneater (blue eyed blondes) // 6. the man comes around (johnny cash) // 7. blood on my name (the wright brothers) // 8. bottom of the river (delta rae) // 9. o death (ralph stanley) // 10. keep going (boozoo bajou ft. tony joe white)
mix of southern gothic and a few surprises. listen here!
dedicated to nawlins/southern gothic au.
Wonshik is crying as you kneel down beside him, his tears mixing with blood and sweat and pooling on the floor. You stroke his cheek gently, moving aside a few stray locks of hair sticking to his face. You wish he wouldn't cry; it makes you uncomfortable.
Sighing, you take Wonshik by the shoulders and help him sit up. You carefully straddle his lap as he begins to fight to free himself from his bindings again. You place a hand on his face and run your thumb along his cheekbone. "Don't struggle, please," you tell him. Wonshik sobs.
You continue to shush him as you strip off his shirt. "Shh, shh, it will be okay," you tell him as you trace your fingers along the veins in his neck. He shivers under your fingertips, so you lower your head and press your lips to them as well. You feel him swallow, hear him gasp for breath as you dig your nails into the skin on his chest.
"T-taekwoon..." he chokes out, squirming as your nails bite into him hard enough to draw blood. You pretend not to hear him, humming gently as you lean back and lick at the crimson smears on the tips of your fingers before you reach for the knife you had set aside earlier.
"You're very attractive," you inform him, idly running your thumb along the blade, "So, I wonder...do you taste as good as you look..?" Without waiting for an answer, you place your palm on Wonshik's chest and push him back so he's lying beneath you as you straddle him. He starts to struggle again, so you reposition yourself so your knees are pressing his shoulders into the ground. Wonshik's chest heaves with sobs as you angle the blade of your knife just right under his left eye.
"I said don't struggle, please." You press down on the knife.
Warm blood seeps over the knife and down your hand as you work the blade into Wonshik's eye socket, carefully dislodging his pretty dark eye from his skull. Wonshik screams and thrashes underneath you but you do your best to ignore him. This is very delicate work. You need to focus. After a few moments of concentration you finally manage to work Wonshik's eye free with a satisfying 'pop'.
Wonshik screams so loud when you yank it out you're worried he might tear his vocal cords.
You bring the eye to your lips and touch your tongue to it, so sensually that it makes poor Wonshik squirm and sob beneath you. You make a pleased noise in the back of your throat before you pull your mouth away from the eye, a string of bloody saliva trailing from your lips as you turn to look at the bleeding boy writhing desperately on the floor.