#murkoffed

[deadfought]

@murkoffed 

NOT SURE WHAT HE EXPECTED.   Chris has a vague recollection of Waylon Park.  the whole murkoff incident at Mount Massive is just one more assignment filed away -- they’d been concerned about the Morphogenic Engines relation to the virus outbreaks, but there’d been no connection.  There’d been plenty of work regardless -- patients who needed to be safely escorted out, patients that had to be SUBDUED.  And then there had been WAYLON.  ( The WHISTLEBLOWER. )  Chris had spoken briefly to him, but the shock of the situation meant he was in better hands with the EMTs.  And Chris had to get to work. 

That’s been -- what, a year ?  The better part of two, maybe.   The call comes in on his home phone -- backed up and buried under the numerous other NON - WORK related messages he receives while he’s out of the country.  A nervous thank you and request to meet up for coffee.  It doesn’t take long to set up the meeting, a quick text sent back instead of CALLING with an explanation of ‘hey, it’s chris.  I just got your message, I’ve been overseas’ etc, etc.  Polite.  Explains he’d love to meet up, maybe tomorrow ?   He’s just got back and first things first he needs a shower.   Complete with a cute little smiling face.  

The cafe is one he’s been to before.   It’s not that far from the apartment, and he ends up munching on a muffin 20 minutes early because he’d had nothing better to do.  ( That’s just how DOWN TIME is for him.   Spent trying to figure out how to fill the void of time before the next mission. )  He recognizes Waylon immediately but DAMMIT he doesn’t remember him being this cute.    To be fair, between being so occupied with the assignment, and waylon being covered in blood and dressed in one of the inmate uniforms ... chris hadn’t really LOOKED.  

He’s definitely looking now.  He breaks into a grin, waves.   “ Hey, Waylon, right?  Good to see you’re doing better ... I’m really glad you reached out. “   Not that Chris needs a THANK YOU for the work he does ... but it’s reassuring to see the RIPPLES of good you put into the world, now and then.   The reminder that the bad doesn’t go on forever, that his touch on the lives of others is FELT, that it’s effective.  “ I followed the murkoff case as closely as I could while I was working ... hope they got what was gunning for them ... can I buy you a coffee ? “ 

[eatrude]

@murkoffed / bc i said i would fdsafdsa

“ I can understand how the experience would have made you less than fond of doctors, therapists in particular -- but the doctors in Mount Massive were not ethical doctors by any means.   I’m not even certain many of them were LICENSED PRACTITIONERS ... so much as mad scientists ... two very different fields ... but please, we’ll take everything at your pace -- I won’t recommend any drugs, and we’ll just talk.   If you need to stop at any time, say so. “ 

[bridekilled-blog]

@murkoffed 

He’s moved to knock SEVERAL times now, only to withdraw his hand the same instant and have to gather his courage again.  He’s made sure not to CRINKLE the envelope containing his letter, made sure he looks decent and the scars are as well covered as they can be -- tried to clean up and make sure he is as unassuming, least - intimidating as he can be.  

It takes him another minute still to get the courage up to knock -- not too forceful, but sure to be heard.  And then he waits, holding his letter to him like a life - line.   ( How, oh how had he let his therapist talk him into this.  CLOSURE, she’d said -- dressed it up in prose.   Didn’t he want to apologize ?  It would help them both move on.  Eddie from the guilt and difficulty acknowledging what he’d done and Waylon from ... well, what was done to him. ) 

WAYLON PARK.   A name to the face that Eddie can remember, if only JUST -- like a fever dream, hazed in RED.  He waits nervous, like a SCHOOL - BOY waiting on his prom date to accept his proposal.   ( an association that comes quickly, and that he is just as quick to put out of his mind. ) 

He hears shuffling behind the door.

“ ahem -- um, Waylon Park ?   I ... well, I’m sorry to disturb you, I ... I’m sure you remember me, my name is Eddie Gluskin ... I came to talk, if you wouldn’t mind. “  That DAMNABLE lisp has him fumbling over words, made self - conscious by it’s presence.  As if he weren’t enough so by the situation.  “ If ... if you don’t want to answer the door that’s fine -- I have a ... a letter for you here, Mr. Park, I can just ... leave it on the door. “ 

[edxgluskin]

“Please. It wasn’t her fault.”

———————-AMERICAN HORROR STORY 8.01 SENTENCE STARTERS

      Wasn’t her fault ? WASN’T ? Oh~ But to him- In HIS mind.. it so very was. The hand on her neck, it only tightened. Lips forming into a smile before a haunting laugh slipped past purly whites. “ Ha ha~ ” His grip loosened, letting the woman go only to turn his attention toward him. Toward WAYLON. Never mind her gasps for air- it meant nothing to him. 

     “ Do you.. Love her ? Are you going to LEAVE ME ? For this… Slut ?” A scoff, then. “ What did I do to deserve such– ” His breath was sucked in through clenched teeth. His hand gripping the handle of the knife, STABBING it into the wooden table to his right. “ ILL T R E A T M E N T !? ”

     He huffed, letting his nerves calm, hand slowly running down his face and peering over his fingers. “ I can’t loose you. You’re mine.. We belong together- Darling. ”

[secretkeeping-twins-archived]

"Hey, Ellen! Uh, if you still want to get lunch or something I'm totally free today." -Murkoffed

“O-Oh that’d be wonderful W-Waylon!” She smiled brightly, “L-Let me just put up th-these files and I-I’ll be good t-to go!”

@murkoffed

[bridekilled-blog]

@murkoffed / sc.  ↳ song.   rest in peace  /  buffy ( once more with feeling ) 

“  There's a traitor here beneath my breast, and it hurts me more than you've ever guessed -- If my heart could beat, it would break my chest. “   WHISPER SOFT CONFESSION, a nervous hand that presses over his heart and eyes that won’t meet Waylon.  

[eatrude]

#Positivity Protocol! 😄💙☀️ Send this to ten muns who you think portray their muses so damn well and are just generally awesome!

unprompted asks || always accepting ! 

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa BITCH I LOVE YOU !!!! 

[bridekilled-blog]

“Can I touch you?”

nsfw meme || accepting ! 

oh.  

The question itself is so simple a thing ... and yet it hangs over him, an impending guillotine.  His world hinges on the answer to a question he doesn’t know how to answer.  Eddie STARES,  blue eyes wide and stunned and he watches the hand extended toward him, hovering just shy of touch.  Of contact.  

He doesn’t know the answer. 

Eddie thinks firstly of all the pain his touch has wrought -- to Waylon.  To others.  A TAINT on his skin that might spread like ... tar.  Like plague.  Contaminant.  ( Filthy, disgusting, unclean.  He’s not worthy of Waylon’s touch.  It isn’t worth HURTING Waylon further in the long run -- and yet something so SELFISH in him wants desperately. 

He swallows around the lump in his throat, where his heart appears to have firmly lodged itself.  He wants !   He wants so horribly it feels like the edge of knife, the slow and excruciating crux of exsanguination.  The moment before a vital vein is CUT.   His breath trembles, when he finally releases it and oh so tremulously, he nods.   

“ I ... want you to, yes. “  But can he ?  That remains to be seen.  CAN HE.  Will Waylon’s mind allow it, will Eddie’s ?  WANT so very often plays so little into the sequence of things.  Just ... responses to stimuli.  They respond accordingly.   It isn’t something he’d begun to think POSSIBLE for them -- the simple matter of touch.  Points of contact.  He’d made his peace with WANTING IT.  The unattainable has always made sense, in a far off and distant way, wanting has been a companion. 

RENEGOTIATING BOUNDARIES, constant states of transition -- they push and feel the borders, like fumbling blind in the dark.  SLOW, he lifts his hand and meets Waylon’s where it hesitates away from him.