#perniicious

[pantichrist]

┊ buck said : " the fucker deserved it." ( @perniicious ) ♡

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝖘𝖎𝖝  𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘. six  minutes  is  how  long  it  had  taken  riley  in  the    bathroom  before  she'd  returned  to  the  scene  that  had  unfolded. a  corner  alley  beside  a  greasy  truck  stop  bathroom,      𝒂  𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚  𝒐𝒇  𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏  𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒂  𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍. "what  the  fuck  happened?"          she  steps  further  inside,        tries  to  toe  around  the  body  of  someone  who'd  met  the  tail  end  of  buck's  wrath. "m'gone  fa'five  fuckin'  minutes  an'  ya  pull  this  shit?"          it's  not  that  she's  not  elated  to  have  something  fresh  to  eat,        it's  that  he  acted  purely  on  impulse. "it's  called  tact,        bucky,      christ      -        ya  need'a  get  some  unless  you're  plannin'  on  endin'  up  on  some  fuckin'  news  headline  as  the  truck  stop  slammer  or  some  shit."        exasperated  and  with  a  growling  stomach,        she  bends  at  the  knees  and  takes  hold  of  the  𝑛𝑜𝑡  𝑠𝑜  𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦  𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑  between  them,  tugging  him  hard  by  the  arm  of  his  shirt  to  pull  him  deeper  into  the  mouth  of  the  alley. "you  gonna  help  or  not?"

[facepeeled]

@perniicious | plotted starter.

she'd been drinking buddies with buck for some time now. he was fun to be around, not an angry drunk like her father, not a horny drunk like josiah. he was like her, the alcohol washing away their inhabitations, loosening their stiff muscles. tonight was her turn to supply the booze, so she'd stolen a bottle of rye from the last house she'd ransacked (and a stereo, an expensive looking bisque doll, and some fine china-- but he didn't need to know about those things. she'd already pawned them anyways.)

they were halfway through the bottle, and she realized it'd been awhile since either one of them spoke. "my daddy liked rye whiskey. and pabst blue ribbon," she said. she wasn't sure why she thought of it, but the alcohol loosened her lips, so she said it. "he used to send me down to the liquor store with a note saying 'sell it to my twelve year old, it's for me, love hank.'" she was paraphrasing of course, but it was true. the number of times she'd made beer runs for that man as a child was insane. her first taste of beer was a piss warm pbr she'd stashed behind the house before giving her father the rest of the twelve pack.

[petitsdieu]

FOR THE “YOU CAN KILL ME BUT DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH THEM” DYNAMICS - ❝  are you hurt?  did they hurt you?  ❞

There's a glance back into the Denny's, Buck's still at their booth with a fork in his hand and what she can only assume is more pancake. The only thing left from the Super Slam they shared — one egg each, she gave him the bacon, hash and three pancakes split between the both of them. She has this dopey smile on her face, thinking they're going to get away with dining and dashing, and how much she's liking his company.

About halfway to her car, two men approached her asking if it was still open. Things escalated quickly from them blocking her steps to grabbing for her. In retrospect, she should have run back towards the restaurant. Instead, she had run towards her car. It all happened so fast. There was no time for strategy.

Her gaze went from the flashing 24-hour sign right under the neon DENNYS to the ground. She's on her knees in the parking lot with her head in her hands and a wet face. And Buck's voice behind her, getting louder as he gets closer.

"Are you hurt?  Did they hurt you?"

Her palm is cut from when she tried to swing at them and the keys cut into skin. There's a cut on her forehead where her head was slammed against the hood of the car. Her ankle hurts. Her clothes are a little disheveled. Her knees a little scrapped up. And she thinks they took her wallet. At least they fled the scene in a hurry and didn't have time to locate and pick up her dropped keys or they probably would have taken her car, too.

"Uh... a little?"

𝙛𝒕. @perniicious

[philomelia]

travelling never stops being tiring.    the long hours in the cars,   the setting up of a new life,   the saging of a strange home   (by the time evening rolls around,   bringing a daffodil - yellow sky,    the skin on her back feels as if it has been stretched as wide as the world).     there are aches and sores that will need a few good nights of sleep to even out.    even so,   she can’t stay in the house anymore.   her mother had been playing the matronly goddess--    making dinner and sending smiles to her patch - work children.     her escape plan had to be bundle into her van:   she shared this around a mouthful of mashed potatoes,   already halfway out of the door.   her mother probably made a snide comment in return...    but the door was shut and cassie was on the road.

dusty side roads are the main attraction of a place like this.    she drove slowly,   her music pumping out from the rattling speakers.   it made everything sound tinny--    she liked her music that way,   distorted and wrong,  twisted in a way that the artist had never intended.     she hums along.    it is on this highway,   burning away in the yellow sky,   that she spots buck   [   @perniicious   ]   walking alongside the rotting bushes.

he looks like the devil,     killing the world around him with every step.    the scene is awash with reds and browns,   yellows and greys,    but she has never been good at reading signs.    her van pulls up beside him:    she throws off her belt,   clambers over the chairs,   and forces the door open.    her shoes touch the ground and her arms wrap around him.     “    buck,     ”     she shrieks,   holding him tight enough for it to be half - deadly.     “   what the fuck are you doing here?    woooaaah,   you got tall!    look at you.    ”

[infernalrampagemoved]

" i'll give you... five bucks if you eat that bug. "

@perniicious

[faithfled]

you're always on my mind, i can't help it ( buck ) @perniicious.

fingertips  dance  across  the  exposed  skin  of  his  chest,    careless  doodles  upon  his  covered  ribcage    –    a  triangle  here,    a  square  there,    a  heart  as  big  as  it  could  possibly  go.    there’s  a  gentle calmness  to  the  air  around  them,    the  world  is  quiet  both  beyond  the  motel  windows  and  inside  them.    but the air outside feels ominous and dangerous compared to the sanctuary that they had created within these four walls.    months  ago,    she  would  be  out  there.    walking,    running,    hitchhiking.    never  knowing  when  her  next  hot  meal  would  be,    little  room  for  equanimity  when  her  survival  instincts  were pushed  into  overdrive.

she’d  spent  countless  nights  next  to  monsters  and  monsters  adjacent,    cradling  their  heads  with  a  softness  that  should  have  only  ever  been  reserved  for  buck and buck alone.    she  doesn’t  miss  those  days,    doesn’t  wish  them  back    –    but  she  is  thankful  that  they  led  her  here,    straight  into  his arms.    that  one  fateful  morning,    barefoot  and  bleeding  on  the  side  of  the  thoroughfare    –    highway  twenty  four, an unexpected milestone.    he  pulled  up  like  a  figment  of  her  wildest  dreams,    accent  just  as  thick  and  muddy  as  the  tires  on  his  stolen  truck.   

vivian  pauses  her  delicate,    invisible  illustrations  to  trace  the  scar  across  his  abdomen.    she  has  one  to  match    –    across  her  palm  and  on  the  back  of  her  hand.    cut  from  a similar  cloth,    pierced  by  the  same  knife.    they  were  bounded  for  life.    ❛  sometimes  i  think  half  of  my  mind  is  made  up  of  you.  ❜    raw,    real.    she’s  never  lied  to  him,    she  never  plans  to.    ❛  sometimes  when  i  hear  my  own  voice  talkin’  to  me  in  my  thoughts,    yours  is  there  too.  ❜ her southern drawl is but a whisper. ❛  i hope you stay there forever.  ❜

[dumbthink2]

009.   a run - down motel room .

@perniicious

"d'you want the bed?" it is really the only thing in the room that they can offer to him, aside from maybe a chair that is falling apart. the motel room is home for the time being, and that hadn't really thought much further than that when inviting him over. somehow, they had a feeling that he didn't have many other places in mind.

(if another dude tried to invite them to some weird, abandoned warehouse, they were going to fucking lose it.)

"it's probably better than sitting on the carpet. like, dude. trust me." they hop onto the bed first, patting a spot next to them. "carpet should be like, fuckin' outlawed. i swear."

[m0nstrousneeds-a]

“  let’s do something tonight. i feel like setting things on fire.  ” ; @perniicious

 the  sun  hangs  low  out  of  the  front  window  of  the  shop      (  all  ochre  &  red,  summer  breeze  clattering  windchimes  in  a  soft  burst  that  can  be  heard  over  the  barely  -  there  drone  of  the  air  conditioner. )      helena  pushes  a  book  into  place,  one  of  the  last  few  on  her  stack  of  returns  before  her  workday  is  done. she'd  thought  maybe  the  night  would  end  with  a  cup  of  tea,  a  re  -  run  of  the  munsters  and  perhaps  a  well  packed  bowl,  but  it  seems  buck  has  other  plans. (  doesn't  he  always?  )        "not  sure  setting  things  on  fire  is  the  best  low  profile  activity  we  can  get  up  to  tonight."        said  from  behind  the  bookshelf  she  finds  herself  leaning  against,  standing  atop  tip  toes  to  shove  yet  another  book  back  into  it's  place. "but-"        (  always  a  but,  a  little  room  for  wiggling  when  the  curiosity  of  what  his  eyes  might  look  like  with  the  flicker  of  fire  in  them  piques. )          "i  might  know  a  place  that  could  work  for  that."