#hostagefled

[cutfoot]

...        his  comfort  is  not  formed  from  the  gentle  bridge  of  words        (        she,   too,   has  inherited  far  too  much  froom  him   :       he  tries  to  gift  her  the  tenderness  of  her  mother,   the  summer  warmth  of  a  woman  born  from  a  dandelion        ...       but  these  have  never  been  weapons  he  could  wield  with  any  ease        ).        instead,   his  hand  reaches  out  to  rest  against  the  arch  of  her  spine,   the  place  where  she  had  collapsed  into  herself.

they  bathe  together  in  this  silent  abyss.      there  are  no  little  murmurs,   no  soothing  noises,   merely  the  presence  of  his  hand  resting  against  her  back.       fingers  flex,   lifting  to  rest  at  the  back  of  her  head         (        what  could  you  possibly  say  to  comfort  a  soul  that  weighs  so  heavily?       they  are  pinned  together  by  nothing  but  their  trauma   :       there’s  nothing  left  without  it       ).       ‘   nightmare?   ’

@hostagefled​        ...        company + reverse :)))

[spiralshiftbye]

✄ﾟ*・ﾟ @hostagefled​ liked!​

  “i haven’t been through the same amount of shit you’ve been through, but i understand what it’s like to go through trauma no one else around you seems to understand.”    although he himself was never a target of jigsaw’s games, he’s had his own share of fucked circumstances, biggest being the death of his father. that among other events culminated in a festering internal wound he can’t suture.

   “it takes a strong person to come back from something like that. you’ll find your way eventually.” hopefully not his way--will’s a special kind of fucked up, and if admitting it wouldn’t have him eating meals out of a slot for the rest of his life, he’d tell her.

[vswrld]

‘   i  have  some  bad  news  for  you   :         kim  hates  you.       but  it’s  okay!         she  hates  everyone       ...         and  you’re  kinda  one  of  everyone.   ’       @hostagefled​

[cutfoot]

...        their  house  of  gingerbread  tales  and  sugar  -  cream  icing  had  crumbled  beneath  a  black  boot         (        fitting  that  his  divorce  would  clamber  around  his  shoulders  while  he  was  wearing  his  work  shoes        ...        he’s  sure  there’s  a  heavy  handed  metaphor  in  there  about  the  gods  he  had  chosen  to  devote  himself  to  and  the  women  he’d  left  behind  in  his  prayers        ).        ‘   i  know.   ’

they  sit  opposite  each  other  on  the  couch       ...        his  shoulders  are  tense  as  he  leaned  forward,   his  hands  clasped  in  front  of  him.       he  is  a  sighing  man,   featureless,   aged  into  a  withered  tiredness  that  aches  at  his  very  bones.        ‘   i  know  it  isn’t.      none  of  us  wanted  this       ...        we’ve  been  trying  to  make  this  work  for  so  long,   alison  and  i.       your  mother  and  me.      but  i  think  we  all  know  it  isn’t  working.   ’

@hostagefled​        ...        “this isn’t what i wanted.”

[slashre]

LAWRENCE  MIGHT  BE  AN  ASSHOLE,    BUT  HIS  DAUGHTER  COULD  BE  SWEET.        she  bends  down  to  let  the  flower  slide  behind  her  ear,    a  soft  smile  lifting  from  her  mouth      (       she  stood  by  his  door,     coat  swung  over  her  arms,     tape  recorder  tacked  into  her  pocket      ).     an  interview  with  the  esteemed  doctor  lawrence      ...      after  months  of  hassling  him  about  the  damn  thing.     she  reaches  her  hand  up  to  touch  at  the  small  flower,    another  sweet  laugh  freeing  itself  from  her  body.      ‘   did  he  send  you  out  to  greet  me  or  isn’t  he  here  yet?   ’      she  toes  off  her  shoes  and  bows  her  head  a  little  bit,    looking  into  the  house   :      all  she  could  see  was  the  tail  -  end  of  the  stairs  and  a  vague  glimpse  into  the  living  room.      ‘   diana,  right?   ’

@hostagefled       ...        [  flower  ] for charlie (^:

[viewskew]

[  brush  ] for corbett xx

Eyes squeeze tight as she expects a rush of something, anything. Bleach was… bleach, right? A chemical used to scrub at floors, at sinks and kitchens to remove nasty blemish, nasty stain and nasty memory. The thought of putting it anywhere NEAR her head had been a prospect reluctant to take up- but when it was Diana’s trained hands holding the applicator, it didn’t feel so bad. It had all been very exciting, the prospect of dying her hair. Even just suggesting it had been SO worth it; wild rose-child’s smile electric and bright upon hearing the news. But there was talking about it … and then there was following it up.

Perched on the side of the bathtub, Corbett opens her eyes as she feels the cold, thick mixture brushed between long strands of virgin blonde. Well, there went THAT colour forever. Oh god, what if it turned out awful? She’d have to show up to class like … like a … “Are you sure… that I’m not going to just look like a clown?” worried voice pipes up as hues settle on the woman before her at work. “Not that I don’t trust you, of course.” The student quickly follows up, chasing strands of conversation with endless reassurance and apology; a learned trait still hard to shake off.

Not a victim, the girl had always been the PERPETRATOR- every problem small or big the fault of brotherless child, fatherless daughter. Tiny spectre in the graveyard of her own home, she was already mourning before they were all gone.

“I’m excited, of course.” OF COURSE. “But.., do you think … PURPLE is a good idea? Like, what if it goes wrong and all my hair ends up falling out?” The smell of the bleach was strong, uncomfortable on twitching snout as she shuts her eyes again. She needed to stop complaining. This was meant to be fun. Lips close together softly, a thin line drawn worried in thought as she tries to compose herself. There was nothing to fear. A deep breath blossoms a weak smile. “We’re both going to stand out, huh?”

@hostagefled

[viewskew]

❛  i like when MILFs are in things .  ❜ for corbett!!!!

ᴡɪʟᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴅs of a ᴡɪʟᴅ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ignites gentle blush to a wildfire; embers of peach burnt across canvas in bashful splendour. hand raises to lips instinctually, as if trying to protect her own tongue from such ills. diana was so funny. swallowing laughter, the same hand moves to push hair out from her own eyes.

     “ I think I’d have to ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ. Though, I don’t know if I’d----              use that word.” 

sweet child spits thorns amongst petals, such crass language comes to the bright-haired musician so easily it never failed to surprise corbett.  diana gordon was dangerous, but how exciting she was to be around.

    “ is that why you agreed to ᴄᴏᴍᴇ with me, then? the...ᵐⁱˡᶠˢ?”  word is let loose from vanilla-chaptick’d lips like finger dipped precariously into hot bath running wild; testing the waters. it’s small, but measured- an almost bright look in her eyes glimmering with the ghost of a chance it didn’t sound utterly stupid.

@hostagefled

[ofgxds]

hunger .

❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink .

" diana! " the voice of the young man calls from across the crowded room. thick with bodies, music, and smoke - he tries to wave at the bright haired woman from a couple of feet away. a smile ignited on youthful features when he finally caught her eye.

"think fast----!" he speaks as he throws the plastic container, passing a bottle of water to her as he fails to slide paste a group of people hurdled together. luckily she stood out in the crowd, or he wasn't sure if he'd find her again tonight.

finally he pushes his way past, wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "hydrate or die-drate !!"

@hostagefled //