#fortrauma

[bllakc4tmoved]

A PREDATOR DRESSED AS A HOUSECAT : 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄! no - one would ever suspect you have lethal claws. black silk dress brings out the best of her, DIAMOND JEWELRY finishing this breathtaking look! &. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐓 is not the only one on the prowl now, ... HER PARTNER IN CRIME also dressed to steal attention. ❝ my my, look at you ━━━━ ❞ 𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐑 drawn out at the sight, as heels click against every step of the stairs she walks down. their disguise works combined : just two charming people ready to enjoy a luxurious event, AN ACT PUT ON!

@fortrauma : [ knuckle ] sender lifts receiver's hand to their lips and places a polite kiss there

THE CAT MAKES HER LANDING, : 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐅𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 ━━━━ what manages to catch this femme fatale off her guard is the way he takes her hand : a touch so gentle by hands that are used to work as weapons. &. the way he softly presses his lips against the back of her hand. JADE GREEN HUES WIDEN, if only for a few seconds. 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐈𝐌, when his face finally lifts to gaze at her features, the signature look of mischief decorates her! ❝ who knew you were such a gentleman. ❞ A TEASE LULLS, this was part of the act, after all. ( but there are no eyes on the two of you, yet. ) her arm 𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 to link with his, their bodies so temptingly close now.

[redemn]

if  they  weren’t  both  curled  up  behind  large  metal  container  ,      squatted  in  a  thin  pool  of  stagnant  water  in  some  attempt  to  avoid  several  pairs  of  scanning  eyes  ,      arthur  might  have  called  this  a  simple  ,      peaceful  ,      quiet  time  with  leon  .      unfortunately  for  the  both  of  them  ,      the  solid  concrete  cobblestones  easily  do  a  number  on  their  knees  .      several  times  ,      arthur  has  to  slowly  shift  his  position  ,      until  he’s  practically  leaning  against  leon’s  side  in  a  strenuous  attempt  to  keep  upright  while  still  remaining  hidden  .

it  takes  what  feels  like  an  eternity  before  the  footsteps  fade  away  .      arthur’s  quick  heartbeat  has  found  its  rhythm  again  ,      but  he  still  casts  his  gaze  at  leon  as  though  he  suspects  there  may  be  something  else  lurking  ,      holding  its  breath  until  one  of  them  appears  .

@fortrauma  .      ❝    that  was  close  ,      huh?    ❞

arthur  blinks  ,      slow  and  true  .        ❝        you’re  damn  right  that  was  close  .        ❞        with  a  huff  of  air  through  his  nose  ,      he  moves  away  ,      slowly  scooting  in  inches  toward  the  edge  of  the  container  ,      where  he  can  peek  out  and  make  sure  nothing  else  has  an  eye  on  them  .      it’s  been  five  minutes  .      more  than  enough  time  for  their  tracks  to  be  washed  clear  of  suspicion  .      but  he  dares  little  to  raise  his  voice  higher  than  the  harsh  whisper  he’s  speaking  at  now  .        ❝        and  hopefully  the  closest  they’re  gonna  get  .      don’t  know  what  they  would’ve  done  if  they  caught  us  .      they  don’t  look  like  the  type  to  kill  us  quick  .        ❞

╰ ゜TLOZ : TP STARTERS.  /  𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 .

[polardestiny]

something nice from the prompts tag ! ↪ Q ; ❛ this day feels like it's never gonna end. ❜ --@fortrauma

leon  had  been  a  new  addition  to  the  place.

when  clair  finished  her  internship,  frankie  found  themselves  with  an  empty  cabin  and  an  itch  for  more  companionship.

so  when  leon  appeared  in  town  looking  --  well,  hunted  and  haunted,  for  lack  of  better  wording  --  it  seemed  simple  enough  to  offer  him  a  job,  a  place  to  stay.

"it's  easy  work,"  they  had  said  to  him  at  the  time.  "just  need  someone  to  help  me  with  the  dogs.  maybe  shoot  a  moose  here  n'  there  while  i'm  out  on  a  race."  it  still  felt  weird  to  them  that  they  were  the  one  in  charge  of  things  now,  and  not  just  listening  to  others.

but  then  some  days  were  like  this,  where  it  felt  like  everything  was  going  wrong,  even  on  a  simple  easy  day  the  way  they  usually  had  them,  and  leon  seemed  especially  exhausted.  maybe  he'd  been  having  nightmares  --  frankie  had  heard  yelling  from  the  cabin  a  few  days  in  the  past  few  months.

(  this  day  feels  like  it's  never  gonna  end,  he  says.  )

"yeah,"  they  fire  back,  snorting  a  little.  "yeah,  fuck,  it  really  does.  uh--  hey,  i'll  cook  tonight,  you  go  get  washed  up,  come  join  me  at  the  main  house."

[aintashes]

tension hangs around them like a gaseous form of matter, thickening the air. daryl's deft hands make easy work of sharpening one of his hunting knives, leaving him plenty of space and time to contemplate. but it might be a little too much: every now and then he can feel leon's eyes studying his pensive expression. he knows that it's only a matter of time, then, until he brings it up.

i never know when you're being quiet because that's just how you are, or if there's something wrong, @fortrauma says with even tone, breaking the silence that had claimed the space between them for hours now.

leon's words pull daryl's gaze to him. though they haven't known one another for very long, the level of trust that he holds in his travel companion is strong. but perhaps it's not strong enough to reveal all of the nitty gritty ways that daryl's mind tends to spiral, turning on him like a wounded animal turns and bites anything that comes close.

a sigh exhales through daryl's nose, bottom lip catching between his teeth as thoughts roll through his brain. he's not trying to be obtuse— this is just the way he is. the only way he knows how to be. ‘ it don't matter, ’ he finally responds, attention turning back to his work. and what should it matter to leon, really? daryl doesn't believe that the things that haunt him are worth hearing.

[red9]

gives him a lil smooch ♥

              The feeling of love, for so long had been a foreign one. A concept almost alien to him, and something he felt almost undeserving of. As if the sins of his past would warrant him unlovable, the thought of a lover so gentle as he being hardly more than a fantasy in his day to day. For years he dreamt of a love like this, in a world where he might escape the horrors he was subjected to. Now? he was dreaming of a life where he might live alongside Leon. Just the two of them, in a far away place where he could admire him as he’d lay sleeping- only to stir him to waking with his love. A fantasy best left behind lock and key, and a secret he'd take to his grave.

              Surely it was love that would make a man this way, craving each tender caress of their lips like a long needed drag from a cigarette. A moment to breathe him in, like a drug he could never get enough of, needing one more hit- one more taste in hopes of sating the hunger within. Why fingers would come to slip through fine gold strands, cigarette cast aside without second thought as he’d pull him in for more. One measly peck- one brief caress was never enough with him. Why he’d hold him close, one hand at his waist, meeting him with an eagerness that left him backing the other against the nearest object for support. There he could keep him captive, if only for a while, smiling against his lips as he’d break away to let the man catch his breath.

              “What, you think I’d let you get away? C’mon Leon, you should know better than that..”

[deathlined]

DO  REVENGE  WITH  ASHLEY  GRAHAM,  FEATURING  @fortrauma​  AS  LEON  KENNEDY:        you know you don’t have to be brave with me.

it’s  impossible  to  be  sneaky  in  this  family.  she  knows  it,  knows  it  to  be  an  infallible  fact,  and  still  tries  to  push  the  boundaries.  today  it’s  sneaking  into  the  kitchen  to  get  a  glass  of  water,  tomorrow  it’ll  be  trying  to  disappear  in  an  effort  to  hide  away  from  the  rest  of  existence  until  she’s  comfortable  with  being  perceived  by  others  again.  the  days  are  hard;    she’s  still  getting  used  to  being  a  normal  person  again    (  as  normal  as  being  the  first  daughter  can  be  ).  the  routine  helps.  while  she  may  hate  certain  aspects  of  the  day-to-day,  like  having  to  tell  a  stranger  with  the  right  clearance  who  will  never  understand  the  horrors  she’s  endured  to  this  point  the  details  of  what  happened  in  europe  knowing  that  the  most  she’ll  get  is  some  canned  advice  on  journaling,  the  repetition  of  things  is  nice.  she  doesn’t  have  to  think,  doesn’t  have  to  try,  just  has  to  be.

it’s  the  nights  that  are  significantly  harder.  her  bed  is  too  soft,  her  room  is  too  quiet    —    she  feels  as  though  she’s  choking  on  the  breath  she’s  been  holding  all  day.  she  can’t  fall  asleep  without  going  back  to  that  place    —    cold  walls,  heavy  air,  a  crawling  beneath  her  skin  she  can’t  shake.  tonight  is  the  same  old  song.  her  hands  shake  as  she  opens  the  kitchen  cabinet  and  she  nearly  jumps  out  of  her  skin  when  the  light  flickers  on,  calming  only  when  she  sees  a  familiar  and  comforting  space.  leon  kennedy  is  more  than  hired  protection  and  her  father’s  right-hand  man  these  days;    even  in  walking  on  eggshells,  she  can  relax  in  this  small  semblance  of  safety. 

and  now,  as  she  sits,  sipping  her  water  in  the  false  hope  that  it’ll  actually  do  something,  she  can  feel  some  walls  stripping  down.          ❛  I’m  not  being  brave.  I’m  exhausted.  ❜          no  forced  smile,  no  mild-mannered  words,  no  everything  is  fine  façade.  you  can’t  con  someone  who  went  through  the  same  thing,  and  that’s  where  the  comfort  settles  in.          ❛  I’m  just...  so  tired  of  feeling  stuck  in  this.  the  rest  of  the  world  is  moving  forward  and  I  can’t  keep  up.  ❜          her  interest  in  the  swirled  design  of  the  marble  countertop  wanes  quickly,  tired  eyes  lifting  to  meet  his.          ❛  does  it  ever  stop?  ❜

[tracksdowna]

@fortrauma: ❝ what are you trying to say? ❞

it's nerve-wracking, being honest with someone. this was a long shot — a cry for help. body and soul lost out to sea, voice barely audible over crashing waves, begging for someone to hear him and pull him back to safety. the scorpion paces like some wild creature in a cage, trapped in this suit, in this life, in this fate. you've killed, you've destroyed, you even assisted in an act of bioterrorism. why would anyone want to help you? but, federal agent hasn't told him to get out yet or pulled a gun on him, so those were both good signs. maybe there's hope.

❝ i'm tryin' t'say i wanna make a deal, ❞ every muscle tenses with the confession, looming presence how hunched over, voice rising in desperation to be heard, ❝ information — proof of oscorp's doings, ❞ mask is tightly gripped in an attempt to steady trembling hands. this could be it, finally, a chance to do the right thing. ❝ i want norman osborn to suffer an' rot for what he's done — i want that man to feel regret for the rest of his fuckin' life, an' i think you can help make that happen. ❞

[bllakc4tmoved]

MASK DISREGARDED, : THERE WAS NO NEED FOR IT NOW AS THEY WERE HIDDEN FROM CURIOUS EYES. ... the zip of 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐓 zipped half - way, to expose the marks the fight before had decorated her fair skin with. the wound located on her side, closer to her back. &. is why she lays on her side, whilst his hands tend to her, ALL TO CEASE THE CRIMSON FROM LEAKING. ... she is actually grateful for this position, IT FEELS AS PRIDE AS TAKEN A WORSE HIT THAN HER OWN BODY. despite her life - style, despite the habit of seeking out danger &. jumping towards head first, 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐒' 𝐀𝐋𝐋 ... she rarely had to lick her wounds, a blessing by the developed skill, &. the way luck favors her! ... &. even when it came to it, she was the one to witness it by herself : to be the one to lick those wounds, A SECRET hidden from everyone else. @fortrauma tend.

BUT NOT THIS TIME, : THIS TIME SHE DIDN'T HAVE THE LUXURY. ( feels strange to admit it, in her case, does it not? ) ... this time, it was he who witnessed it all, on top of it all : refusing to leave before she was tended to. 𝐎𝐇, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒. gaze averted, SHIMMERING JADES HIDDEN FROM HIS SIGHT. ... ❝ kinda funny how the tables turn. ❞ like her claws, words mimic the way the cut : the tension broken by words laced with humor, ANY PAINFUL HISSES LEFT TO SCRATCH AT HER THROAT. she would not let them out.