Dec 25, 2016
@fclie-a-deux
Due to a max of submit box, here is your gift for the holidays. Should you use them upon my own flesh, I may even find a modicum of respect for you. After all, irony to stab with the knives I gifted you.
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@fclie-a-deux
Due to a max of submit box, here is your gift for the holidays. Should you use them upon my own flesh, I may even find a modicum of respect for you. After all, irony to stab with the knives I gifted you.
Kiss The Hand That Struck You
"Feel the sting of pain? The blood rushing to your cheek? Feel it and imagine where else my hands shall strike. Does it make you ache, come now, Tray, never deny it. Your owner revealed it so."
@mercxnaries.
It’s 11:30 PM and she’s still stuck at a picnic table in a park that might as well be named Meth Head Central. Her car has once again failed her, as has her phone, which she neglected to charge before coming out here. Even the comfort of an overly expensive tow is a distant dream at the moment. Her anxiety is beginning to act up ---- everyone shuffling through the dark is an addict with a knife, ready to stab and kill her for the little cash she has on her person.
Willow stares down at the picnic table, her research photos bent and strewn about, humming “I Wanna Be Sedated” to keep herself calm and weighing her options. There’s a gas station a little ways down the road, she thinks, but the walking there this time of night might not be a good idea.
Old Friends, New Circumstances
@mercxnaries
Jess was practically vibrating with anticipation, waiting and listening for the nearly-inaudible ‘click’ of the back door’s deadbolt being turned. He sat on the kitchen counter, the adulterous husband paralyzed and still twitching at his feet, his throat slit open and sluggishly pushing out the last of his lifeblood.
He saw the first figure round the corner and could no longer contain his excitement, throwing up his arms and shouting “Surprise!”
( @mercxnaries )
“They didn’t tell you how old I was, did they?” She stood in the shadow cloaked hotel suite, a revolver pointed at the intruder’s head.Her fingers adjusted, curling around the handle of the gun. “The people who sent you to kill me they didn’t tell you much about me, did they? Hm?”
@mercxnaries
“I’m fine,” she reassures the man at the bar counter. She was FAR too young to be wandering around some sleazy pub adjacent a flea bag motel, yet here she was: five-foot-three standing in damp knee socks with drenched hair. She was seeking shelter from the pouring rain... And something more. It was the last day of summer vacation and she wanted to end it with a delicious MEAL. “I was just wondering if you have a quarter, sir. I’d like to use it for the jukebox.”
He glanced down fondly at the name that lit up on his phone. Izzie – she was nice to talk to. Cute, friendly, easy to talk with. Why she even pretended to enjoy talking with him, he didn’t know, but it was nice all the same. It was a photo, he could see that from the thumbnail, and began a slow smile in advance. That was another thing in her favor, she liked dogs, and she freely shared photos of her own.
He picked up the phone.
And dropped the phone.
And a moment later, neck hot and face beet red, picked it back up.
To – to confirm, of course. He had to make sure it was actually what he thought it was, so that he could let her know. And, Jesus Christ, it was.
Oh, oh god. This – this could not possibly be for him. It was for her boyfriend, it had to be. Did she have a boyfriend? Had to be. So he had to delete it (and he had to STOP looking at it, Christ), but he didn’t know how, so he had to tell her, right? But he didn’t want her to feel bad – she shouldn’t, she looked great, but good fucking GOD he could not say that.
He had to say something. He had to. To let her know.
His hands ran over his burning face and proceeded to push through his hair as he sifted over what exactly to say to this situation. And he very carefully did NOT look at the screen.
much
[ msg - Izzie: Sorry I don’t think I was supposed to see this ]
Why hadn’t she replied? She sent it more than ten minutes ago and nothing. Why? Izzie knew her best poses to flex and show what she wanted. Well, she had nothing on, so not like it would be a big deal, because a nude shot without her head was safety 101. Izzie wouldn’t risk a head shot of her floating around online or to her mates at work.
When nothing came, she was ready to text and ask what was up with her. Hearing the little knock-knock of her text message notifications, Izzie picked up her phone believing it was Lana’s long-waited reply.
Oh, god no.
[text]: Oh sweet fuck, no. no no no]
Izzie scrolled up in the messages to see that yes, her phone had gone through---but the wrong person.
To someone who wasn’t Lana.
To Red Lady’s pet, the guy she slowly started to become friendly with, even saw as an ally rather than an enemy. She sent him a nude pic of her instead of shots of her dog, Lucky.
[text]: Oh my god, im soooooooooooooo sorrry, that was for someone else. omg ahhhhhh