#everyroute

[belohved]

KERRA, MELT INTO ME- I WANT THIS, I WANT YOU. words spoken on a breath, panted in the parting of their lips, and taryn searches for the truth of them in kerra's eyes just to be sure. found in blown pupils, she can only nod as she captured kerra's mouth with her own, a hungry moan passing between them while taryn held herself above her. she is truly a sight like this, laid out under her with her wild hair blown out around her head- were she not already crowned queen in taryn's mind, she would surely pledge herself then and there. instead, she says quietly as she nuzzled kerra's cheek with her nose. "you have me." kerra will always have her, now until her dying breath and after even that. if taryn has to tell her so every day of their lives together, she will. for now, she will show her love however kerra asks for it. her hand rests on the flat of kerra's stomach, trailing downwards south of her naval and the rest of her body follows suit. her mouth presses into the hollow of kerra's throat, sucking on the delicate flesh there, shifting her body to manoeuvre between her legs. "-i've wanted you since i knew what want was." want and need and craving- she feels it all. her hand travels further down, as taryn dragged her tongue along kerra's throat and down further still. as her fingers slip through curls, taryn moved. her eyes locked on kerra, she sat up between kerra's legs on her knees, the space between spreading kerra's own a little further apart- but her other hand, now no longer needed to hold her up, instead splays over kerra's stomach to hold her still and steady. her roaming hand ventures between the slick folds of her lover's cunt, her thumb seeking out bundled nerves, and taryn expelled a breath as she sank two fingers into the wet heat she's thought of nothing else for many a lonely night. "-gods, kerra." taryn's fingers curled inward, her thumb pressing light pressure on kerra's clit as her other hand pushed downward on kerra's stomach. "still with me, my love?"

[peggies]

prompt. he was his brothers keeper. he's heart-hardened by circumstances. the dim light of the setting sun filters through the cracks of the room, pacing prints into the creaking wood. you are so mad and yet so wrong. @everyroute he's halted to a sudden stop, feet cemented. his scoff is then hardened by old ghosts. ‘  open your god damn eyes, tommy! ’ joel spat. tommy, blood of his blood. marrow of his marrow, his breath bursting like gun smoke as teeth resemble thorns. [ they lie in this valley of traumas, their unholy terrors sing akin to broken ravens, thick with tension. ] you'd have to understand that tommy and joel were brothers first, and they'd always been ones to challenge like brothers. joel's darkness was one which tommy would tide against. but today, joel felt that this challenge was sharpened to a point.

‘  you think i ain't justified, that what you're sayin'? you saw what it is out there. you remember. you know. ’ his heart raced, pounds in horse hoof rhythms and pitter-patters, fleeting shadows of blood spilled and hell-stained. there's grave-yard dirt beneath his fingernails, and the delivery in his words lacks any tongue of moral clarity, or toe to toe, or anything remotely akin to the statement. he prods his finger at his brother's chest. ‘  and damn it, you call it right or wrong, i call it you makin' it through another day. ’

[peggies]

prompt. ‘ i come bearing gifts. you're welcome. ’ : @everyroute

scoff. head tilts her way, like flora to sunlight. cigarette smoke to pollute this air, it vanishes just as quick in vapor. ‘ ..uh, oh. ’ and he sits down, wide kneed and rattled. ‘ settle these bones before you hit me.  you bringin' me some trouble behind you, that it ? ’  jocose, tone to swallow a form of candor.  his exterior stays blunt, because arthur morgan was like that of an effigy around these parts, though teal-eyes are sculpted with new-found energy. really, he couldn't help himself. ‘ damn if you weren't still a sight better than, uh .. all these other surprises come my way, i figure.. what'cha got ?  ’

[artistikill]

@everyroute asked: " there is no shame in being afraid. " + from carley / prompt.

he's alone. he's thinking about his next piece. having witnessed one of the team, that he's currently passing the time with, torn to pieces earlier — he intends to go back tonight when it's dark and get to work. feels inspired! they're too fucked up to be roaming and thus ripe for the taking. it causes tears to brim and leak down his cheeks. sheer excitement. he feels giddy, biting the corner of his lip roughly to ground himself. that's when there's a knock at the door. " c-come in... " he responds, blinking away the tears.

carley manifests through his blurred vision and he offers a smile. she asks if he's okay and he nods. " just a little shaken up after earlier. " a lie. she believes him. there is no shame in being afraid. he could laugh. wildly and maniacally. it bubbles in his chest and threatens to bleed out regardless of his efforts to contain it. his lips curve and he has to duck his head, rubbing the back of his neck. " yeah... " pull yourself together, dammit! without vigilantes, his apocalyptic work has taken on new meaning.

it's more grandiose than his previous pieces. posing the dead, humans and walkers alike, like sculptures. dissecting and learning more. leaving them for people to stumble upon; something akin to giuseppe penone's pieces. exploring the symbiosis between man and the undead. " are you doing okay? " sucks in a deep breath and finally lifts his gaze to meet her own, steeling himself beneath it. " i get it, if you're not. "

[bel-ova]

“you almost died.”  + from melina

i have died many times, or at least i have seen death way too close to my face, and it has kissed my cheeks to no avail and left its scent on my skin like perfume. curling its spectral fingers around my flesh, it remains seeping into the marrow of my bones. i don’t really tremble beneath its gaze; no, i welcome it, i yearn for the cool embrace of its shadowed arms. oh, to be cradled in its eternal stillness! then i remember i’ve been cursed with knowing how to escape from it as well. am i afraid of it? no, not at all . . . but do i crave it? that changes like the seasons. i cannot answer this in absolute certainty.

« why do you care about me, мелина? » on the surface, i display a facade of indifference, a carefully crafted mask of apathy that shields the aching vulnerability beneath. i carry myself with the air of one untouched by longing, but my solitude is a quiet fortress, its walls built high with feigned ease. within, something restless stirs. beneath the still waters of my indifference, a silent wish ripples— unseen, unspoken, but ever-present. i tell myself I do not care, but in the quiet of my own mind, i know the truth: i do.

« don’t lie to yourself. »

[0azrae7]

@everyroute asked: " my face is my warrant. " + madison.

irritable, ghost gives a restrained sigh. " that's not gonna work, 'round 'ere, " he informs bluntly. not going to work with him, especially. granted, madison is intimidating — without a doubt, but he remains unphased. he's seen the worst in women, he's not in at the deep end here. " you lose your armed guard? " and not because she's any kind of vip, either. no — madison is undergoing a transition period, wherein bill carver is testing her and her people, seeing how they fair under strict command and order. she's failing. " you know, if you wanted t' keep your family safe you're goin' the wrong way about it. "

this isn't their first time meeting, either. ghost, aka stanley, knows exactly how stubborn she is. has witnessed her coarse words first hand and her even coarser attitude. she's a mother, looking to get things done. he can sympathise. nevertheless, he absolutely won't allow her to step on his toes, on his mission. " you can wait in 'ere with me. hands t' yourself. i'm almost done — i'll walk you back. " / prompt.

[0azrae7]

@everyroute asked: " why are you willing to help me? " + sadie.

a husky chuckle — mostly to himself, because the answer is simple. chaos calls to him. and he doesn't know if this woman deserves his help or not, but twelve against one is hardly a fair fight and if a woman is stuck in such a predicament then she's certainly worth his attention. in the same vein as misery loves company, he's intensely attracted to trouble. cyn whinnies beneath him, stomping hard hoof against the ground in anticipation. he calms her with a firm pat to the neck.

          " you look like you might be worth somethin', " he jests at first, glancing between her and whatever she's transporting on the back of her horse. then, he reaches for his gun as one of the twelve men come around the corner. " i'm messin' with ya. listen — how about you shoot now 'n' ask questions later, yeh? i'll tell you what you wanna know. f' now, you've got trouble 'eaded your way. i've got your back. " / prompt.

[careol]

@everyroute said: ❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜  + from colette

               it   is   a   particularly   difficult   day,   one   where   sophia   is   heavy   on   her   mind.      it   happens   sometimes,   the   memories   of   her   smile,   of   her   adorable   laugh   when   she   was   just   a   baby…      she   swallows   hard,   having   to   remind   herself   that   she’s   gone.      there   is   no   hope,   no   possibility   of   finding   her.      maybe   if   she   had   never   seen   the   body,   if   she   had   just   been   missing   she   could   fool   herself   into   thinking   she   was   still   alive   out   there.      but   no,   she   had   witnessed   the   fatality   and   remained   a   broken   woman   because   of   it.

               ❝   because   i’m   an   old,   emotional   mess?   ❞      an   attempt   at   being   lighthearted,   although   the   words   to   her   are   still   true.      she’s   not   young,   and   she   is   very   much   emotional   and   a   constant   mess.      just   most   days   she   is   capable   of   hiding   it. not   today.      ❝   you   don’t   have   to   listen   to   me   sniffle   away.      doesn’t   make   for   very   good   company.   ❞