#vaulte

[nukesahoy-a]

“  you’re joking,  right?    you’re absolutely kidding.    there’s no way,  not a single chance in whole world,  i will be following your orders.    you’re a fucking mungo—  i refuse.    you cannot,  and i repeat,  cannot make me do anything.    who do you think you are?    my mom?  ”    

[daniyla]

Build

[shawkyarchived]

EXT.  THE  DESERT  -  DAY

❝  ARE  YOU  ACCUSTOMED  TO  THIS  ?  traveling  for  miles  with  nothing  around  ?  ❞  shawky  finishes  packing  the  saddlebag  ,  careful  with  his  leather  journal  ,  and  glances  over  at  her  again  .  ❝  it’ll  be  hot  ,  and  it  might  be  dangerous  ,  but  this  is  the  only  way  we  make  it  out  to  the  ruins  .  ❞  after  a  bit  of  awkward  adjustment  ,  the  explorer  manages  to  climb  up  onto  the  saddle  of  his  horse  (  only  after  making  a  few  painful  noises  in  the  process  )  .  once  he’s  all  settled  ,  he  smiles  over  at  her  .  ❝               glad  you’re  coming  with  me  .  i’m  going  to  need  all  the  help  i  can  get  when  we  climb  down  inside  .  who  knows  what  might  be  lurking  there  .  ❞

with  @vaulte

[hefightsarchive]

@vaulte replied to your post: characters im gonna one day write that nobody...

okay u imply that i, at 13, did not purchase every single cirque du freak and still deeply love them

ur legit the first person i’ve ever met in my 22 years that has read them ok i CANT EVEN LIE ABT THAT AND IT’S TRAGIC !!!!! I BINGE READ THEM MY FRESHMAN YEAR OF HS , AND I’VE HAD NOT A SINGLE REGRET UNTIL I STARTED FUCKING SOBBING ABT LARTEN CREPSLEY DYING AND THE DAMN RED FUCKING COAT .

[legiate-a]

“    i can’t kill this man.    ” @vaulte​​

this room is ugly.    you’re  ugly.    the wasteland is uglier.    a tormented moment of vermillion   &   grotesque carmine gore splattered along the decaying wall.    chips of paint rest on the soot - covered carpet,   scorching tears beginning to drip from roseate cheeks.    a mother teaching her hen,   you no longer hold the knife   —   she  does.    her words are laughable,   a moment to sop up   &   carry within your  rotting  corpse.    that’s all you are   :   a  walking  fucking  corpse.    rancid   &   ready to bite,   a symphony of cries from the  mysterious  man  fill the rotting living room.    

i  have  a  family!    please  don’t  do  this!    i  have  caps!    i  have  whatever  you  two  want!

you gorge yourself on his words   /   the adrenaline seeping through your pores from these moments.    have much of this world have you devoured?    how many more hearts can you eat   &   leave in your acetic belly?    there’s always a  drive  to return to this place of darkness   &   blood.    you’re  addicted.    you’re a monster.

❝    ain’t that a shame.    i  was  rootin’  for  ya’,   genny!    ❞    your tongue is bloated with rot   &   maggots,   slithering their way out of your mouth   &   onto the floor.    they beg to be devoured   &   ate in their entirety,   your head leaning back to swallow the remaining.    clawing their way up your throat,   those  wretched  things.    a living dead girl,   you are   —   you’ve  always  been such a creature.    marred fingers snatch the knife from the blonde’s hands,   your  unbecoming  nature  splayed out for the world to see.    a demonstration of sorts,   brutality claiming its residence within your bones.    they crack,   disfiguring themselves as you lowered onto your knees,   hands clasping around the man’s jawline.    silence becomes stagnant,   sobs   &   breaths filling the room to its brim.    shoulders squared,   a curt curve of your lips is sent in his direction,   the blade swiftly slitting itself across olive flesh.    a faucet spitting water,   transparent liquid is replaced with ruby,   besmirching yourself  once  more.    you are the fire,   burning in this inferno of unspoken land   —   nothing can ever sate you.    you’re  always  going  to  crave  more.    

face wet,   besmirched in red,   you rest from your crouched position as gore continues oozing out from his engorged throat.    if these walls could speak,   you  wonder  what  secrets  they  would  spill.    would they be screaming for their lives or stand in silence,   soaking in the blood   &   actions.    festering mouth,   you wipe the blade onto your shirt,   a hybrid of your own   &   countless others.    ❝    gotta’ admit,   i’m disappointed in ya’.    guess  i’m  gettin’  pretty  fuckin’  used  to  that.    ❞    slyly spoken,   you swirl the words synonymous to swirling your signature glass of whiskey,   a stroke to her heart.    you’ve  learned  how  to  burrow  yourself  under  her  skin.    always eager to please,   a  bitch  in her own manner.    puppy - dog eyes,   saccharine tongue,   her naivety   —   i’m  disappointed  in  you,   genesis!    the parental role,   you’ve captured it in your grasp   ;   if it works,   it  works.    two lonely individuals   —   use the scenario to your own advantage.

[legiate-a]

@vaulte​

you imagine aiming your ruger at her forehead,   squeezing the trigger   &   watching the grotesque scene unfold.    vermillion splattering against the parched ground,   blood soaking into the cracks,   a pleased smile on your face.    it’s the dream.    [a sick dream   ;   you know what’s sick?    never shutting up.    yeah,   that’s a crime!]    halting in your spot,   you finally cut the blonde off,   western boots gliding against the sand as ire boils carmine on amber skin.    ❝    do you ever  shut  ya’  mouth?    the whole walk,   all yer done is  yap  my fuckin’ ears off.    ❞    fingers delving into the pockets of washed cobalt jeans,   cracked lips purse.    ❝    it’s startin’ to  really  piss me the fuck off,   blondie.    ❞

[verglased]

                               @vaulte​​       ♥  '  d       for  a  starter   !

                                                                          𝙰𝚄𝚃𝚄𝙼𝙽𝙰𝙻    𝙰𝚄𝙱𝙰𝙳𝙴        made    manifest   :           aureate    arpeggios    characterize    timbre  ,              seity    to    signature    each    ridibund    reaching    of    stave’s    inhabitants    for    awaiting    firmament       &       her    open    embrace  .             batting    of    RORID    LASH         /         dewdust’s    dance    with    dawn       ;              waltz    of    welkin    as    overture       to    ‘ nother    morn  .                 

                                                                          ❝         &         now  ,             we     just    ––––––––––      ❞            (       here  ,          witness    scaling    of     anticipation’s    pinnacle    by    ensorcelled    souls  .        )           auroral    ascension        &       maladroit    magnetism    interlock    at    crossroads        /         this    melody    must    make    itself    known     !          ❝         easy    does    it    .      .      .               WOOP   !     ❞          where    strings   stir    with    hummed    harbinger  ,          crashing    chord    can    be    coloured    steadfast    companion  .               but         B   I   T   E   R   N   E   S   S        is     lent     no     time     to     linger  .               ❝         it's .       uh .       it's      everywhere  ,      isn't    it    ?      ❞         this    is    a    playful    dissonance  .