#psychopilfre

[brothersineternity]

-night masque

 Contrary to popular belief, their nightmares did not consist of losing one another, or death, or hatred, or any number of mundane things. Those fears had long ago stripped from them, worn away by years without anyone to talk to but each other. Endless conversations passed between them had managed to give the twins an almost delusional certainty that they would always remain as one, always love and hold each other above all else. The golden rule had emerged from these conversations, during black nights when the other gods were busy with ceremonies and sacrifices and Hades had ordered them to remain in the Underworld.

Together is always the way.

     So when they had nightmares, their nightmares were simply about nothing at all. And Thanatos and Hypnos always dreamt together.

     Blank stretches of white world that made up all of existence were what was noticed first. Any movement could not be seen, any sound could not be heard- a glance down to the wrist would teach the god that there was no hand to see and no neck to motion with. Non-existent voices caught in their throats with words that had no air, no meaning, and thoughts were what was offered to the emptiness as their minds clouded with panic.

brotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrother

     The other god would think he’d abandoned him. Instinctively he knew his twin was somewhere in the vast stretch of blank world, searching for him even as the panicking god clawed his way through nothing. Tears clouded vision, though he had no eyes to see with and nothing to see around him. Names were unimportant: Thanatos and Hypnos were just labels now, not something they ever truly were to each other. This god had forgotten which one he was originally, before he came here to search for his poor twin.

     Fingertips brushed against something and the stream of consciousness stopped, turning like a whip to focus on the new sensation.

     Nothing is there and yet the god knows it was his twin, feels the other’s presence like not other thing in the world. He desperately tries to find the sensation again, reaching out wildly with ever louder cries.

brotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrother

     Eyes flash open and the twins sit up, grasping for each other even as thunder crashes in the world around them. No more is it pure white - trees and grass are revealed in the lightning strikes that illuminate their surroundings, a welcome alternative to the perfection of the nothingness. Soft skin and cloth beneath their fingers is comforting and Thanatos draws Hypnos close to breathe him in. In the middle of the night, it was unlikely that there were humans around the park- doubly so given the storm that raged around them. The promising smell of rain hung in the air, heavy and thick with water and echoes.

     It was minutes before Death could raise his head to inspect his brother’s face, but what he saw sent worry flooding through him. Even as he’d comforted himself with Sleep’s presence, Sleep had begun shake with tremors that ran almost continuously. Whimpers escaped his lips and gradually they escalated into screams and moans loud enough to rival the cracks of thunder. Thanatos threaded his fingers through his twin’s hair, shushing gently and rocking- anything to chase away the pangs of the nightmares that still haunted Hypnos.

     Green eyes were blown wide, the eyes of prey that can see it’s predator and knows it has no escape. They focused on something far away and desperately, Death looked around for what it might be. Any flash of white, any empty store front that glowed with emptiness in a lightning strike; but there were none to see.

     Hands tightened on the back of the Thanatos’ jacket, holding on as though the god would be torn away by the gusts of wind that blew the storm around them. Harder and harder Hypnos gripped, pulling and wriggling desperately to get closer to his twin, pressing himself into the safety of the elder’s arms.

Cloth was no match for god’s strength and the leather ripped clear away.

     Death twisted away momentarily from surprise, trying to see behind him- the resulting scream had dogs barking in the neighborhoods around them. Digging through the thin t-shirt, Hypnos desperately scrambled for another purchase on his brother, afraid that any moment would see him stolen away forever, unable to know that Sleep was there. Nails dug into Thanatos’ skin and he grunted in pain as his brother made crescent marks that began to ooze gold blood. Nails shredded down Death’s back and up again, until the slick of blood made it all the more difficult to hold on.

     The brown-haired boy began to scream once again, realizing that he had nothing to grab onto, nothing to use.

     Fingers twisted themselves beneath skin with iron strength, desperate to hold. It was Thanatos’ turn to scream his pain to the sky, arms tightening around his brother as he fought for the self-control to not pull away.

It would pass. It would pass.

     The shallow hand-holds were enough to calm the younger for a moment and the black-haired boy looked around, wondering if there was anything he could use to get back to their home. They needed a bed for Sleep, and blankets, but the god wasn’t sure he could move without upsetting his brother again. Throbs of pain poured through his back, alerting him to torn muscle and exposed veins. The skin attempted to close and heal, but the fingers in the wounds prevented that- it felt like an itch he needed to scratch, but one Thanatos didn’t dare touch.

     Looking up again, desperately, the god sees an unfamiliar form walking the sidewalk. Perhaps a human disturbed by the storm or Hypnos’ screaming, perhaps a being wandering the night. It was a risk, but they needed to get away from the open, needed to get somewhere familiar or at least quiet so his twin could calm down.

Pride would come later.

“Hey!"

     Thanatos called for their attention, realizing the predicament would look strange only at the last second. Two teenage boys in the park, disheveled and clutching at each other with all they were worth. The god wouldn’t be surprised if the human thought they were lovers having a midnight tryst, and for a second he wanted to laugh.

Pain shooting through his back quickly silenced that.

[autolatrismarchive]

psycho--pilfre

[ txt: unknown ] i found ur number on a bathroom stall [ txt: unknown ] either smeone rlly hates u or u have v bad luck

[nottxbe-blog]

" We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying. " [ *drops angsty angry bastard mutant boy like it's hot* ]

“Deathless” Sentence Starters.

Accepting.

     “I may have missed that portion of it, but I’m sure you’re not wrong.”

He’s no nurse or apothecary but he’s trying his best with what he has to fixhim up: his sleeve, a flask of whiskey, a cell phone at only 8% battery tomake whatever call they need. The whiskey soaked cuff of his sleeve goes to his cheek goldenrod and comes away redcopperbrown as hedabs, dabs, dabs the wound clean.

     “How did it happen?”

[brothersineternity]

{icarus again}

      For a brief ten minutes, no one on the face of the planet had died. 

   It was quite a remarkable thing, given the frequency with which human death happened. Estimates varied, but some put it at about 105 a minute. Over 150,000 a day. Different places, different faces, different life stories with the same common date of death- it wasn't often a tie used to bind together strangers.

   Only this time, nothing of what's meant to be happening has happened. Surgeries meant to end in doctors shaking their head and calling the time of death with exhaustion and sadness in their voices continued on without a hitch. A woman ran out of a burning building with her children in her arms, rather than collapsing from inhaled smoke on the way to their rooms. Drug addicts woke and stared at the world around them, never knowing that a meant-to-be fatal dose of their substance of choice coursed through their veins. Babies giggled at their parents, children played uninterrupted with their friends.

Eleven minutes now.

   It was doubtful that the pause would be observed by any human source. Even if death wasn't happening to them, surely it was somewhere else in the world, gathering those who belonged to it with cold indifference. The lucky humans would smile and kiss their loved ones again, relieved that the accident was not as bad as it had seemed, or that the sickness had decided to give them one more day. Their eyes invariably turned to the heavens, perhaps searching for the one whom they imagined had granted them extra time. Others, who were fated for sudden death, would never know that their days had already expired.

They were living on borrowed time, until the reaper could come to collect.

   Anyone walking through the small wooded area would hear the screams that echoed through the trees. They rent the night asunder, tearing the silence over and over again.

A god proclaimed his pain.

   Jagged agony poured through his body, raking razor fingers across his skin and gleefully reminding him of the injuries which kept him as still as he could hold himself. Thanatos wanted to writhe and twist, to somehow leave behind the unbearable feelings, but movement of any sort was torture. Drawing breath for his roaring was the best he could do and even then his lungs pushed against shattered ribs, allowing him to feel the misplaced bones each time.

   He'd fallen. The words circled in his mind, repeating themselves in an attempt to create meaning. The god's brain, sluggish, struggled to process why he was chanting those words.

13 minutes.

   Blood soaked the ground around him, turning the darkness of the grass to a shimmering gold. His body had precious little left and he could feel it attempt to circulate the ichor, attempting to heal itself. Small scratches knit together effortlessly and Death cursed at them with what little breath he had. His magic healed whatever it came across, never mind if there were larger injuries to work on. 

And oh gods, were there.

   One eye was useless and he could still feel the little bullet in the socket, sitting neatly as though it had always been there. It was the first of his injuries and the farthest along in the healing process, though Thanatos realized he was going to have to dig the bit of metal out. The thought made him shudder and he almost passed out from the pain the movement induced, blackness dancing in front of his eyes with open arms. Forcing himself awake- and cursing himself with every breath- Death moved on, trying to catalog the damage.

   His eye and broken ribs. A dislocated shoulder and a shattered forearm. He couldn't quite feel his legs, though out of the corner of his eye he could see they were still attached. Spinal injury then- that would be a fucking bitch to heal.

   But the worst were his wings. The poor, beautiful black feathered things that he worked so diligently to keep clean. Thanatos loved his wings, lavished care on them, adored that they let him soar through the air as high as he wanted. Lying on his stomach, it was difficult to see exactly what had happened- but he could tell it wasn't good.

15 minutes.

   One of them was splayed out under him, a cushion for the moment of impact. Death couldn't quite remember wrapping it around himself but then again, the moments just before his fall ended were quite hazy. The muscle was visible underneath the shredded skin and he watched, entranced for a moment, as it twitched and thudded in the open air. Such a pretty shade of pink.

   The other was also visible, though every instinct in his body screamed that it should not have been. Twisted around his body, the wing had sticks impaled through it, bits of the branches he had fallen through. It dangled on scraps of skin, held to his body by mere inches of muscle and vein. It wouldn't heal like that- someone would have to hold it to his back for the magic to sew together.

   Scattered thoughts jumped into his mind and out again, forcing him to focus on everything and nothing all at once. Brain damage was a definite. All Thanatos wanted to do was sleep but it hurt too much to close his eyes for more than a brief moment. Somewhere, he registered that he'd stopped screaming and the god supposed that was a good thing, but now the pain built up inside of him instead of leaving into the night. Death dreaded when the bubble would burst.

   He needed help. But he had no way of getting it, not when he could barely move and his lifeblood was a puddle around him. Magic moved through the veins and without ichor to carry it, he was fucked.

17 minutes since he'd fallen and humans had ceased to die.

He'd fallen. There it was again; those impossible words. Gods didn't fall.

   But he had. Brought down by a stray bullet, probably fired into the sky at some human party. They'd probably done it without a thought. 

  They'd stopped Death without a thought.

[nottxbe-blog]

♕ vecordiia, psycho--pilfre, magiiya, dandelyiing, traiilerpark, narcxssist, ofhacking

     " ... I'm listening."

Half. He picks his head up a fraction of an inch from where it's cushioned against his palm like the gesture may somehow affirm the statement.

     "Please, continue."

[matarlos]

psycho--pilfre ♫ song ; glass in the park - alex turner 

                  ❛ and when you say that you need me tonight, i can't keep my feelings in disguise. the white parts of my eyeballs illuminate ❜

[stoiicall]

psycho-pilfre said: [ *points to inbox* if it ever so happens that you’d like to vent in a safe, happy, family-friendly, PG-13 rated environment, I’m here for you. (: sorry you got stuck with one/some of tHOSE. ]

!!!! thank you you're a doll <333