#eregored

[ruingod]

            ˚            ᵗʰᵉ   ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ   ᶠʳᵒᵐ   ᵗʰᵉ   ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳʷᵒʳˡᵈ   ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ        :             "       𝚊𝚑,   𝚜𝚘   𝚢𝚘𝚞   𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝   𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜   𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛   𝚊𝚕𝚕,     "

             [     ...     ]               𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓   𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃   𝐁𝐄𝐆   to   differ,    but   he   would   be   inclined   to   agree   with   @eregored.    he   wouldn't   regard   himself   as   heartless,    perhaps   ruthless    ...    is   the   preferred   term.    when   you're   bound   by   prophecies   and   duty,    is   there   really   any   other   path   ahead   than   the   one   carefully   laid   out   for   you,    before   you   even   took   your   first   step    ?    choice   is   an   illusion,    made   to   allude   to   freedom   that   no   one's   ever   truly   possessed    ...    every   god   is   eternally   bound   to   the   tales   they   arise   from.    "    who   said   i   was    ?    you've   seen   me   be    ...    merciful,    "    rampaging   through   those   defiant,    though   relenting   on   those   who   convert   to   believers    :    his   own   brand   of    '    merciful    '.    bodies   piled   and   mountains   over,    one   sitting   atop   the   other   as   if   they   weren't   just   rallying   against   the   two   of   them.    "    everyone   deserves   a   burial.    or,    i   guess,    a   dumpster   fire    ...    "

[pistolsister]

@eregored liked for a starter! ( accepting! )

            cigarette is stamped out by dust caked, faded sunburnt-red western as digits tug mask off of flustered face and tosses the mask into the backseat of the car, the metallic creak and slam followed by the protesting groan of trusty getaway mobile—- had robber worn her beloved cattleman, she’s sure she’d be stomping on it now; defeat is expected on these roads, especially those leading to the smaller towns—- why give up your whole life when taking the bullet would be easier to recover from? ( especially if your family gets something out of it at the end of the day ). sigh is near gritted through clenched teeth, crystal shrinking in on herself as she crouches near the front bumper, ❛ —-that was a bust; y’all think all these stores gon’ be the same, or are we gon’ find somewhere soon? ❜

[carn1vorous]

teeth graze against flesh, hands squeezing at the chunk as he sank his fangs in to suck at the blood and the fat. like a panther he shreds and he tears at the meat without a care in the world for the mess he was making, as long as his appetite was satiated. angel hums happily and his eyes, which were black pits at this point with how dilated his pupils at become, rolling to the back of his head feeling the warm crimson sink to his stomach.

' clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ' @eregored

angel's eyes finally focus and he looks up to see farah standing in front of him. she didn't look mad though ( or did she? he never knew to be honest. ). he lifts himself from the ground and messily wipes his forearm across his mouth, further smearing the blood all over him. " i'm sorry, i got excited. i haven't eaten since i threw up that pizza the other night. "

[heircurse-1]

› ﹙ FARAH ﹚ sender stares at receiver across a room, silently admiring and appreciating them from afar. | | | | | | @eregored.

there's always a tinge of guilt —— practically pleading and dragging someone else along to yet another black tie charity ; the purpose , of course , being entirely selfish. ( he didn't want to be alone. ) didn't want to be swallowed up whole by the oh so serious corporate types , even after they've gotten a couple drinks in them. it was monotonous , it was tedious , and yet his presence was still entirely expected. he could only turn down so many invites in a month [ ... ] they continued stacking up and his father's voice would always come ringing in the back of his mind. like a weight impossibly heavier even after the finality that was death. even six feet in the ground , the bastard was still haunting him —— reminding him that there was still an image and legacy to uphold. it was tiring ; and horribly lonely. but how could a person possibly feel so lonely in a room this full?

the guilt came in waves [ ... ] with each time he was pulled away from her side , the place he wished to be the most , only to return and have the process rinsed and repeated. harry osborn was a busy man ; a known man. yet he couldn't regurgitate a single name that had been given to him unless he pulled out one of many business cards —— and even then , faces decades older than his own were becoming a blur. suddenly he'll find himself on the other side of the ballroom as if he were being passed along as a sacrifice several handshakes later [ ... ] while formalities rolled off his tongue in such a repetitive fashion , the conversations weren't sticking. strings of words entering one ear and successfully fleeing out the other as he pretends to keep up with short responses , despite his gaze beginning to wander... and he finds the familiar face across the room already locked in on him. a small smile meant just for her is offered —— while blues attempted to convey the message of a hostage begging to be saved.

[bludboy]

　  ˚  　ᶜʳᵃʷˡᵉᵈ  ᵒᵘᵗ  ᵗʰᵉ  ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ  ᵃⁿᵈ  ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ    :     “   𝚑𝚘𝚠   𝚍𝚒𝚍   𝚢𝚘𝚞   𝚐𝚎𝚝   𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜   𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛   ?  “

             [     ...     ]               𝐈𝐍   𝐀   𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄   𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓   of   peace   amongst   the   ever-running   commotion,    they   find   themselves   in   each   other's   arms.    legs   tangled   between   one   another's,    his   arms   around  @eregored   and   her's   around   his   own    ...    now   not   even   knowing   where   farah   starts   and   he   begins.    to   be   WITH   someone   in   this   way    :    close,    intimate,    loving,    he   dares   even   say    —    he   never   thought   it   would   be   an   option   for   rats   like   him,    ones   who   wren't   handed   even   a   broken   spoon.    “    hm    ?    ”    daze   broken   by   her   inquiry,    lips   still   stained   red   from   her   own   feeding   of   him,    and   pulse   running   low   as   it   attempts   to   recuperate.    “    oh,    y'mean   this    ?    ”    vague   gesture   to   the   permanent   reminder   of   his   past    ;    one   he   refuses   to   run   away   from   but   equally   never   acknowledges.    he   was   weak   once,    and   he'll   never   let   himself   be   that   kid   again.    “    ...    's   nothin'.    stupid   kid   shit   back   at   the   home,    y'know    ?    ”    not   a   lie,    but   not   the   whole   truth   either.

[bludboy]

　  ˚  　ᶜʳᵃʷˡᵉᵈ  ᵒᵘᵗ  ᵗʰᵉ  ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ  ᵃⁿᵈ  ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ    :     “   𝚒𝚜   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝    …    𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍   ?   “

         [     ...     ]           𝐈𝐅   𝐈𝐓   𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄   𝐀𝐍𝐘   𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑   𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍,    he   could   lie.    through   a   goofy   smile   and   just   a   smidge   of   gritted   teeth    ...    but   this   is   @eregored,    and   she   could   sense    :    smell   him,    from   a   mile   away.    something   tells   him   that   she   can   read   his   movements   before   his   brain   even   decides   to   take   the   leap.    “    ...    just   a   bit,    ”    the   real   stickler   is   what   he   wants   to   swallow   back.    “    ...    i   uh,    got   in   the   middle   of   ten   guys    ...    all   of   'em   had   guns   and   shit.    they   were   robbin'   this   grandma,    of   all   people.    i   had   to   do   something,    ”    skin   pierced   not   by   her   hands,    even   marcus   couldn't   hide   his   disappointment.

[bludboy]

　  ˚  　ᶜʳᵃʷˡᵉᵈ  ᵒᵘᵗ  ᵗʰᵉ  ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ  ᵃⁿᵈ  ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ    :     “   𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝   𝚢𝚘𝚞   𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜   ?    “

             [     ...     ]               𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒   𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐓   𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑,    thoughts   reeling   back   to   all   the   whispers   he's   heard   of   the   monster    ...    demon,    even,    lurking   within   the   shadows   of   the   small   town   he   found   himself   in.    he's   'gotta   hand   it   to   himself   this   time    :    yet   another   bad   decision   and   quest   to   fill   his   pockets   dragged   him   to   another   dead-end   town   with   a   dead-end   cause.    CAPITALISM   TRULY   FUCKS   ALL.    “    y'mean   about   the   fuckin'    ...    monster    ?    yeah,    i   mean.    why   else   would   i   be   here,    you   know    ?    ”    truly   not   built   for   the   everyone-knows-everyone   environment,    he's   already   missing   san   francisco,    and   all   its   sick   depravity.    “    why    ?    ”    curious,    hues   lift   to   meet   @eregored   gaze.    “    y'worried   about   me   or   something    ?    that's   sweet,    ”

[00sgoth-1]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ﹙ FARAH ﹚ yeah, nothing says ‘i love you’ more than a bouquet that’ll die in two days… | | | | | | @eregored.

the gesture was one handed off casually —— with him not wanting to make a big deal out of it , or else he'll risk becoming red eared and diffident. oh , the big bad fear of being seen as affectionate ! the vulnerableness of it all. but her reaction upon the floral arrangement being practically shoved into her hands was one he was relieved with [ ... ] and he'll have to stop the smile from spreading across pierced lips and the laugh from exiting the dry graveyard of his throat ; instead deciding to play the role of someone taken aback and horribly offended. but acting was never really his gig.

❛❛ oh , i'm sorry. thought i was doin' something nice. ❜❜ he could still smell the sickeningly sweet scent —— unsure if it was radiating from fingertips despite no longer being in his hands , or wafting from her own grasp standing before him. either way he'll ignore the way it made his nose scrunch and reach back out towards the bundled bouquet. ❛❛ not my fault you can't keep 'em alive. i'll just throw it in the trash if you wanna be like that. ❜❜