#devourrot

[herinfest]

                                     a    product   of    their    work,       their    illness.     looking   upon   her,      how   flesh   had   lost   its   colour,        warmth   no   longer   filled   those   cheeks.     ‘     we’ve   given   you   the  closure   you  desired,    do   you   not   thank   us  ...  ?     ‘     voice   was    droning,     null.      the    she-plague   took   the   hands   of   the   other,    holding  it,    she   examined   &   felt   her   skin,    every   detail   on  her   palm.    ‘     you  are  not  a   victim  of  our  sickness  but  the  result  of  it.     ‘

   &.     starter   for   /   @devourrot

[mrbxtes-blog]

      ‘   i - i’m not surprised , tah - to be completely honest .  most business comes from the people who get lost .  they moved the old highway a few years back .   ’    norman moved towards the office door , holding it open for her with the toe of his boot.

@devourrot

[endshpil]

: )

        when did she get here? she moves as quietly as ever, and he watches her--she’s not particularly threatening, nothing to worry over, so he raises his brows, feigns surprise, “----may i help you? this is a private function.”

[stringdeath-blog]

' did you believe in monsters? '

       "did i— or do i?” he’s tapping his fingers on the table— itching to do something, to play a song, to build some code, to control another human’s hand movements— but it just seems like a bored habit. the other hand is propping up his chin, and he can feel it in his palm as he hums softly in thought. he knows he used to. he knows that when he was younger, he’d have his parents check for monsters beneath his bed and in his closet. he’d have gael be the one to turn their bedroom light off and climb into bed. he’d toss pillows at rafael for telling stories about monsters with the intention of keeping him awake at night.

       what keeps him awake now is, more than anything, the fear of getting caught— the fear of what happens to august and june if that happens— and he can’t help the cliche thought that crosses his mind. am i the monster now?

       “i used to, sure. werewolves, vampires, banshees, you name it—” he says, and he offers her a grin. “silly kid stuff though, right? now we know the monsters are human. always have been. we just tell ourselves they aren’t to make ourselves feel better.”

[evilrot-blog]

I can’t abide a poor liar.

    ❛      see  ,  that’s  the  thing  about  you  older  people.      ❜    a finger is pointed at the other.    firm  ,  stern  ,  and without hesitation to his words.   the boy tries to see every individual out before he begins assuming.    it isn’t fair  ,  but he has patient this other for far too long.     ❛      you  think  kids  are  lyin’  when  they  tell  you  something  extraordinary.    i  bet  you  didn’t  like  it  when  no  one  believed  you.      ❜    he grows quiet now.    forget about it  ,  it’s no use.    ❛      go  ahead  ,  think  whatcha  want.    i  know  my  facts.      ❜