#towercursed

[hidiingplace]

• @towercursed​​ liked for a one liner & specified. •

“Read... to me?”

[tiiescut]

@towercursed​ + the last of us AU.

Mateo wasn’t the type to stay still for long. Before the outbreak, he’d lived in the same town for years with no real thoughts of leaving. But now, he’d been stuck at one of those settlements for too long. Old Man Jenkins was sick again. The kind that got to your lungs and stuck there. His mother wanted to stay until he got better, but Ella and him had other ideas. Maybe they could find a new settlement that wasn’t run by messed up people who stabbed each other in the back over and over again. He needed out, so he took to the forest with Ella to search for more horses they could wrangle up. Of course, along the way they got separated chasing a few fillies into the bush. They’d split up and now he was trying to find his way back.

“Ella!” He calls out, a single hand cupping his mouth, voice is soft, his gun is on his hip –– barely used.  “¿Dónde estás?” Where are you, he says defeatedly under his breathe to himself and the wildlife around him. From his saddle he has a pretty good view of the meadow before him where he feels the horses or Ella might have gone to get their bearings back. Moving Morocco around a tree he walks out into the open without thinking of checking to his left, unaware that his call for his friend had alerted a strangler to his presence.

[xsalvaticn]

@towercursed​ asked: " Hey, Vanitas? " She steadily climbs up onto the bookcase next to him, crossing her legs and letting her hair hang down like a ladder. There's a respectable amount of distance between them and her fingers drum in the space. " I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to, and I thought this might help. "

She tugs on her hair and pulls up a stack of books. Science, alchemy, geography - academics mixed with kid's versions of the tricky topics, just in case he can't remember his years of studying. And on top of them, rests her journal with all of their adventures preserved inside. Maybe little Vanitas is an art fan at heart, or maybe he'll want something different. He's really different to the Vanitas she's come to know.

" You don't have to come back down, but I just want you to know that you're gonna be okay here. " A soft smile breaks across her face as her head tilts. " I promise, I'll take care of you. "

The child tightens his hold around his legs, peeking bright blue eyes over his knees at Rapunzel as she came closer; resisting the urge to whimper in response. He has taken refuge in the tallest thing in the room - this bookcase - and had hoped that it would encourage the strange lady to leave him alone; perhaps focus on the other children. But, unfortunately, here she was getting closer.

That friendly smile wasn’t going to fool him --- she was only pretending in order to get him down, and then when she did it was back in the basement laboratory for more and more tests. For the betterment of the kingdom. For the opal...

Eyes flicker over her face; large and fearful, slightly pleading as he resisted the shiver threatening to rush through his body. She wasn’t moving in closer or reaching for him, which was a plus, but... His gaze leaves her as he watches the books being slowly pulled up towards them, curiosity stiring in his heart.

This had to be a trick, but... no one had ever given him books like this before. At least... not since...

Vanitas glances between the small pile and back to her, a question slowly replacing the fear and distrust. Why was she being so nice to him?? He uncurls slightly, reaching out the brush small fingers over the spines of the covers, something familiar stiring in his heart; although it was just far enough away to stay out of his reach. He stares at her, his expression having softened; a little prick of bravery welling in his chest from the soft smile and gentle words.

... She wasn’t a seporist researcher then. She couldn’t be --- none of them were this nice.

Thin body uncurls slightly, arms still loosely around his legs as he pulls the journal towards him first; quick flighty movements like a fearful starving animal, dragging it towards him before it could be taken back.

“.... Why do you call me that...?” He was used to a lot of things now other than his given name -- Subject 69, boy, prince... his name was becoming more and more of a distant memory since his father’s death, but... what was this Vanitas? “That’s... not my name.”

[piinkman]

@towercursed​ liked, bitch.

He was in survival mode. There was no other options. There was no plan B, or C, or D. There’s plan A and nothing else. Get to Todd’s, find the money that bastard dopey eyed bastard had, then get out. He had to remain hidden. If he was spotted by anyone, he’d be done for. He’s seen the lines of cop cars that rushed towards his friend’s house that morning. He knew it was this, or another cage. This or death. Truthfully, he’d take a bullet to the head before another second caged up. 

By the time he gets to Todd’s place it’s been too long without sleep. But he knows he’s got to keep moving. He spends the next 16 hours ripping the fucking place apart. He turns it upside down. The wall paper is pulled off, the base boards ripped away, the rugs turned upside down, the shelves thrown about. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about it. But there’s nothing. It’s all gone. He even manages to watch his parents on television. It makes him feel like shit. They look awful and he knows, in part, it’s his fault. They flash an image of him. He looks so different. His fave isn’t marked with scars, his eyes are a bright and happy blue rather than the icy colour they’ve become. They tell him to turn himself in. Then again, they never really did know what was best for him, did they?

The news circulates the information Jesse has been disconnected from for months. Walter’s dead. Their little drug empire was exposed. Jesse’s crimes laid out before the public. There was no explaining this. How could you explain it? Even he couldn’t explain it to himself.

He sits in the kitchen of Todd’s torn up apartment. And next thing he knows, he hears a click on the locked door. His body tenses, and he slowly lifts himself to peak over the edge of the counter. His mind flashes possibilities. Police coming back. Maintenance man. But no... Instead he sees a young girl, a spare key in her hand, and a frying pan in the other. He drops back down the moment her head turns his direction, praying that she hasn’t seen him. His lips form a silence curse, not even giving it air to come to life. His eyes close shut, squinting as hope leaves his body way too quickly. It’s filled back up with tension and the thundering of his heart. He just hopes she leaves... Please just fucking leave.

[recordsstraight]

@towercursed || Bruno

How long had he lived within these walls? Too long for him to keep count, the lines in the walls long forgotten that he had once used to keep track of the days. His life boiled down to staying alive and keeping the house from falling apart, something he was doing right now as ‘Hernando’. An alter ego he used to keep his nerves from fraying too much as he slathered the spackle into the cracks of the walls. 

“Now don’t you worry, Casita, we’ll get this fixed right up and - hey!! Hey get out of there,” turning to shoo away one of his rat friends from the wet spackle he was scooping from with a trowel, it was only with that action alone that he became aware of a person standing there ... and with it? Every bit of his body froze up, green eyes widening just enough to show, the only sound that filled the air was the sound of wet cement plopping on the ground from his trowel ... 

And all at once, Bruno dropped what he held, spinning around and sprinting off, convinced that if he were to simply out run her, that it would all go away.

[xheartpages]

In honor of SPOTIFY WRAPPED,  send me a number 1-100 and I’ll write you a starter based on the song. | 82 ( @towercursed )

“You were... someone whom i could relate.” | song to say goodbye - placebo

[personifiedchaosx]

 @towercursed​ asked: When he gets back to her place, he'll find all the lights are off, instead lit by hundreds of glowing orbs that float around the apartment like fireflies, courtesy of her powers. She's in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on a white and blue marbled cake that bears 'Happy Birthday, Jack!' in dark cursive, but she spins around immediately when she hears him, a bright beam crossing her face. She dusts her hands on her skirt before rushing to him, pulling Jack into a close and warm hug before kissing his nose with a laugh. " Hey, happy birthday! I've got dinner in the oven, it's ready whenever you want it. "

Happy Birthday, Jack!! ( Nov. 10th )

His birthday was still such a strange affair; something that he was only half sure of, and even when learning the true date, it never... clicked fully. While his memories of his time within Fredrick’s lab were slowly becoming more solid around the edges, the time before that - with his family - were still just blimps. Fuzzy and hard to make out. Even with Rapunzel and him uncovering more and more about his family - a mother and sister - genuine memories of them were... rare. Not like he was ready to even face them yet. While he and Rapunzel were in a much better place than before the craziness started, it still meant there was new feelings for him to navigate; feelings that had begun to blossom even before his memories started to creep back. He had given forgiveness long ago, and now there was only these emotions that had been planted by her warmth and care and smile.

It was closest thing that he could assume to be ‘love’. But... he kept it close to his chest. Just for now. Just for awhile longer.

Pushing open the door to the apartment, blue eyes blinked rapidly at the darkness, heart lurching for only half a second before golden orbs registered in his vision; Rapunzel’s doing. He’d recognize them anywhere; she has created them many nights where they laid awake in place of sleeping. Moving in further, he catches the familiar crop of now brown hair, going from her person to the cake on the counter, making out enough of the frosted words to know what it said.

Jack had spent so many ‘birthdays’ alone, only having cake if he’d decided he felt like stealing a slice or too, and now...

I... I’m so in love with you.

Laughter leaves his lips, grateful for the distraction from those internal thoughts right in front of him, holding onto her hands tightly as a mixture of red and blue dusted his cheeks in a flush; staring into green eyes with a wide grin.

I don’t know how i got along without you... “Thanks, Punz. I’m actually starving -- so perfect timing!”

[liishang]

@towercursed​ + cont.

At his poking, she releases her breath in a shocked laugh and stumbles forward. A smile lights up her face as she glances back at him, shooting him a mischievous raised eyebrow. Maybe he wasn’t as up his own butt as her father assumed.

“ Okay, whatever you say. ”

She readjusts into her previous position, taking in his observation and then changing once more per his instructions. It still doesn’t feel great ; she needs more weight on her weapon, but it’s his choice.

Finally, she gives him a pointed look and holds the string the way he’s asked. It makes her look silly, and she’s well aware. So, she’s going to make him know about her feelings towards this drill - especially since now she knows he can take some teasing.

“ Like this, Mr General? ”

His upturned grin is still on his lips as she shoots him a glare. He stifles a chuckle, his arms still crossed over his chest. He takes to observing her as she tries to correct herself. It’s better, not great but, workable. He has a feeling that if she had an arrow it wouldn’t go sideways at least. 

Her words force an eyebrow upwards. 

“You can address me as General Li.” A name he takes pride in, and for the moment he is serious. He adorns that title with a lot of pride. His father bore it, his grandfather had as well. It felt like everything his life had been building up to. But there’s a moment, seconds after where he lets his smile creep back in. 

“Or just––– Shang.” His shoulders round a little bit, his eyes flicker back to the task at hand. As if to shake himself from his momentary lapse in rule-giving, he licks his lips and takes another step forward. 

He pokes the spot between her shoulderblades. 

“Your posture needs work. But your wrists are better.” He glances down to see her... Barefoot. “And your uh –– feet shouldn’t be so wide apart.”