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dirtbagsbaby
" List'n up, kiddo-- " The decision to avert his attention from you is dismissed the very moment his patience starts to tear, the intensity of irritation slumbering in his gaze as another unreadable kind mixed into it. " Ah ain't went in this goddamn bar tah be talked up, y' hear me? Keep tah liquor an' 'em pick up lines tah yerself, aight? "
feuerdove
He's swallowed in the solitude of naked streets, abandoned in their eerie destruction, ghosts now marking their residence in whatever building hasn't yet crumbed to its remains; moves inbetween ditches - only illuminated by the plain streak of light the moon offers dimly - as if his steps have been walked once before. Wherever he goes, his limbs are shaking, the clothing on his shoulder his fingers are digging into ragged to the bare sight of contrasting pale skin, amidst a palette of every possible red tone; a clear burn, still aching to his bones. Finally, the boy sinks to his feet, leans his head and inhales, your frame a trait not fitting into the scene. He doesn't turn, gazes into piceous clouds, smirks nonetheless and speaks, a row of white teeth as easily shown as his words pronounced. "Y’a’ways starin’ a’ people in th’ middle ‘a th’ night, angel?"
♡ ;THIS WILL BE G O L D
Nonsexual acts of Intimacy - Select from the following for my muse to respond to…
♡:Accidentally falling asleep together
Exhaustion adds with every night, every possible hour spent in the task of avoiding sleep in eerie efficiency, his mind often lost in drowsy waves of slumber’s ocean neither tobacco nor the bitter burn of coffee can save him from. And as he brings a chair - consisting more of bone than a comfortable embrace of his limbs - to his belonging and his feet atop a small table, watching her fiddle inbetween death, slaughter, guts and what perhaps may be his work, but now definitely is not of his care, lids become too heavy for his focus, allowing him to drift into the serenity of sleep. The sudden drag of noises and a leaning warmth against his shoulder lets his view open ajar for the second she grumbles, hides her still expression in the crook of his neck. ”Get your feet off my table.” “Get off ‘a me.” Neither listens or obeys, relishing in the few hours of peace they somehow truly earned.
Cigarette fumes and gasoline tanks. Grease in his hair and a certain way with banks. A master thief who stole my heart. A silly little boy who could tear me apart. To the one I love on Valentine’s day. To the one I love From the one which shall never stray.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
Lots of love,
Zachary x
plxttedtriumph
Tension builds a layer across the heavy grasp of silence, the dust it fills into your lungs - heaving, desperate for the sweet sickness of air -, parting your frame from his demeanour, a personification of nonchalance. Yet is it the amused tone in a raucous voice that clings to your attention. "-- Th' hell are ya summonin'?"
Shambles ((hEH))
“ Send me “Shambles” And see how my muse reacts when swapped into your muse’s body! “
Seconds pass him, flinging into minutes he converts into feet staggering beneath an increased amount of muscle, the ground now seemingly miles away, yet what worries him despite the fragments of entertainment and awkwardness, is his at least three times bigger crotch. “—- Please don’t tell me I’m going to see my sex face now.”
OPEN
" Get th' fuck up, dude, 's snowin'! "
✖
My Muse is dead, but they left yours a letter! Send a ✖ to see what it says.
[ Guess who sent you a letter, darls?
Probably wouldn’t have expected it to be me, eh? And no, it isn’t oneconfessing teenage love to you, sorry not sorry to dissapoint you butyou’re going to survive it. I won’t. Must have heard the news alreadybut little old Texas decided to join your dead buddies-club ( won’t meanthat I’m gonna get cut open by you, made sure to get faaar away from yourgrabby hands ). And hey, no shedding tears, will only ruin that blackstuff you girls like to put on your lids your eyeliner.
Damn, must’ve been painful to read through. Hope you still did, though.Scarecrow ]
