i am a weapon wandering the forest of motives

But sometimes, I swear I hear it, the wound closing like a rusted-over garage door, and I can still move my living limbs into the world without too much pain, can still marvel at how the dog runs straight toward the pickup trucks break-necking down the road, because she thinks she loves them, because she’s sure, without a doubt, that the loud roaring things will love her back vivian dixon • con artist and occasional superhero • override written by mollie.

[shegodling]

     he is not for hire - does not display himself for other’s beck and call. favors have never done him well. they are the sort of thing that are offered with crossed fingers and tossed back into his face should he ask for his return. there is hardly need for consideration of this woman’s offer. to offer a quid-pro-quo to a stranger is too far a risk - he cannot rest trust in someone he does not know.      “no. i don’t do teams.”

[techniical-blog]

a sigh snags in her teeth,   impatience painting her with fervent metacarpals   &   a crumbling brow.    strategy is spiderweb betwixt her digits,   &   his refusal tugs a few silken threads loose from it  ---  perhaps irritation pools within her, candle-wax.       within such a grisly era, is not an ally a sensible decision ??    does not such a decision require further consideration ??      ------ she was once the viper of her family,  a creature to whom the argentate words of deception   &   persuasion had always come easily, apate made flesh.    it is upon this instinct she relies now, her mouth twisting with deliberate pronunciation.     ❛    i wouldn’t be so hasty   ------   c’mon, the joker’s blowing people away left & right, a bunch of new SUPERVILLAINS have settled into gotham,   &   the body count’s just gonna keep rising.     you really wanna be out on your own here ??    ❜

[martyree-blog]

orbs are stoic,   or AT LEAST,  that’s the facade they unravel.    they’re gridlocked on the girl opposite to her,  a familiar tugging in her chest beginning to pang.   empathy is both a blessing & a curse to be fallen on her.   fated to endure a life of both AGONY  &  PLEASURE;  but never knowing when the coin of emotion would be FLIPPED.   delicate limbs extend toward the tortured veins of another.   there’s a WAR going on in that mind of hers,  she can sense it.   (  or perhaps in her entire body.  )  gunfire in her chest,  riots in her heart.  & all eliza can murmur into her ear is a hushed  ——-  ‘   i’m sorry.   ’

[techniical-blog]

perhaps she flinches with the brush of flesh against flesh, something desperately barren in the catacombs of her ribs --- it tastes like loss, rotten meat betwixt the teeth,  &  the last recalled touch another had willingly placed upon her; static, serration, the bite of electricity on the tongue.     ------ she shrugs the feeling away like shedding a cloak, all-too-familiar with the imprisonment of emotion.   vulnerability serves no master but death,  &  she is not quite prepared to return to such a deity’s embrace, not yet.         ❛    don’t be.    ❜     the words are wind-whisper.      ❛    i’m fine.    ❜

[tohqs-deactivated20161024]

VANESSA didn’t move from the bench she was sat upon when the paramedics came. She had been just outside of the bomb’s radius when it had set off; but despite the sight, the goodwill girl had a smile on her lips. ‘ OH BEAUTIFUL. such a beautiful view. it’s a masterpiece !! ’ she clapped her hands, laughing. ‘ encore, encore. ’

[techniical-blog]

❛    MASTERPIECE isn’t exactly the word i’d use.    ❜    there is an idle breed of concern concealed within an obsidian gaze,   that weed-like creature that festers in the side more as habit than belief.     another vivian would be pulling survivors from the wreckage.    another vivian would have pulled herself from her wreckage.    --- this vivian presses her spine to the wall & asks,     ❛    think this would be a good time to steal some shit ??    ❜

[elenagilbertsource]

elena gilbert + boobs

[a-wolf-and-a-bear]

Visit Original Link

[alectricshock-blog]

‘ okay FIRST OFF ALL, barbecued. not fried. huge difference there, sissy. second of all, what’s got you so worried about what’s in my pants? if little alec was the same size as regular alec, i wouldn’t have much luck with the ladies, would I? don’t think a 6-foot dick would suit women that well… what are they usually? 5'3? wouldn’t expect you to know, considering you’re not really much of one. oh and if little alec doesn’t satisfy, maybe you could think of one for me? you know, since you’re oh so interested for whatever bizarre reason. ’

[techniical-blog]

there is something volcanic snagged in her throat with his callous disregard, something vehement  &  cruel  &  bloody born on the night the rest of her died. it hurts to swallow, a coil of barbed wire that incarnadines the flesh there, carves something hematic  &  raw  &  wrong from such a fragile fabric.  laurent would break his jaw.      --- laurent is not here anymore.   ❛    BITE ME, asshole.  --- do you ever fucking shut up ??  get your stupid insinuations  &  your scrawny dick out of here, or i swear to god---    ❜

[techniical-blog]

ichormade :

     he doesn’t like rooftops - how in this city they seem to scrape at the ever-arching roof of dark sky and smog that blocks out what light might escape through the heavens from stars and moon. all illumination here seems distant - clouded by the seeming miles between roof and streetlamps below. they are dizzyingly high here and he has never been fond of the way heart presses against chest and throat when one considers how bad a tumble from such heights would be. pale eyes narrow and he sucks a breath through teeth nervously.      “go ahead, then.”

the anxious air clinging to his railroad frame is at least, in its own way, comforting  ---  she is not the only party displeased with this location.   ( with this meeting entirely, actually, a chill filtering through the riverbed of her spine, goosebumps stirring at the nape of her neck like snake tongues against the flesh. )      she nods once, sharp, hues firmly locked on the other’s face as she proceeds,     ❛    alright.    --- you haven’t exactly been subtle about what you can do, ichor ------  &  your kinda skill seems USEFUL.   i figure, i need a favour, i come to you   ---   you need one, find me.    ❜     &     she will need one, she knows, alec’s filthy goddamn face an ache behind her eyelids.

[camloz]

norah nodded lightly and leaned forward to get a better look at the person who was attempting to casually blend in with the crowd. he seemed like he was patiently waiting for the girl to get woozy, and only then would he step in for the kill. she wordlessly pointed a single digit at the culprit and glanced back at the young woman. ‘ blue business suit. blond. has a combover. ‘

[techniical-blog]

her perusal is coloured by xanthous disdain, dentition locked in an argentate cage around a noxious tongue, a curse atomic bomb against her teeth. her head jerks in a nod that slices the air,    mind already seeking out the mystery man’s phone  ---  for vivian’s battles shall always be raged in the technological, meagre as her muscle mass is.      it takes a moment, crowded as their surroundings are,  but minutes later he is several thousand dollars poorer,   &   her smile is serrated as she replies,      ❛    — thanks.   most people’d leave him to it.    ❜

[alectricshock-blog]

I SHIP YOU AND VIVIAN

[techniical-blog]

inside the dixon family, forbes, 2014 reprinted february 2015, in memorium.

[martyree-blog]

‘   what did he do now  —-  ??    ’   its quite easy to infer by the sullen expression sculpted into the raven-haired girl’s image.   there is a SENSATION prickling beneath her skin   –   emotions resettling from one brain to her own.   the words  ‘  ROT IN HELL !  ‘   and   ‘  YOU’RE A BASTARD !  ‘  linger through her mind,  the terms all too familiar to her own situation.   the hatred that boiled between the siblings added pins to her heart. oh, how she longed for SERENITY amid this demolition.  ‘   do you want to talk about it  —-  ??   ‘

@techniical

[techniical-blog]

sepia hues are immotile,    gaze locked on the world beyond the glass windowpane as though,  should she stare hard enough,  her life may fall back into place once more.    passersby are ignorant,   flies caught in a glass,  &  these days she is unsure as to whether that makes her spider or cockroach.   ---  either way,  she is a CURSE.         the other’s presence does nothing to sooth the magma roaring in the pit of her stomach,   but at least it is a presence,  &  an amiable one.      she encounters too few of those, now.      ❛    --- not really.    ❜      her voice is shattered glass,  &  she flinches instinctively.     such vulnerability, she has learned, holds no home in this afterlife of hers.

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

What love did then, love does now: Gnaws me through.

Sylvia Plath, from “Dialogue Between Ghost And Priest” (via siriusorion)

[techniical-blog]

alectricshock:

’ for your information, little alec is perfectly normal sized, thank you very much. but ouch, viv. that’s not any way to talk about your favorite brother. ’

a shudder of disgust, stygian hues caustic in their regard. her grimace is a crack in a cliff-face.   ❛    if  ‘ little alec ‘  was normal sized, he wouldn’t be called LITTLE alec.    ❜      ------ silence pervades momentarily,   arctic chill on her flinty features,  and when she speaks she is half-snarl.       ❛    laurent was my favourite brother.   &   you FRIED him.    ❜  

@alectricshock.

[insensitiving-blog]

’   but you thought it  –  R I G H T  ??   ‘   a beam of pearls reflect off the harsh luminescent bulbs shimmering above them as his plump lips spread to a simper.   oh brandon,  ever the TRICKSTER.   put the joker to shame.   raven brows raise with luxury,  cockiness simmering from his veins.   he can almost sense the cracks upon the ice of her exterior dividing to smaller fragments.  russet hues glide along her smaller, yet no less delicate than his own, frame.   he perches both brows in curiosity.   ‘   so, BUTTERCUP,  you always this chipper  ??   ‘

[techniical-blog]

she rolls her eyes.         ❛    hardly.    ❜    what is so sad is this: she perceives that in another life   ---   an old one, now, a book with half its pages ripped out, only it is not a book but a graveyard & the pages are not pages but coffins & the rips are not rips but the words   ‘ death by electrocution ‘   printed out on an obituary like a goddamn AWARD   ---   she would have liked this boy.   in the days when her hair tumbled over driftwood shoulders in aureate curls   &   her smiles were no rarity but an all-night extravaganza, his quips would have provoked from her a sparrow’s song laugh.     perhaps this is why she dislikes him so now.   raven brows twitch,   something feral, half-amusement, half-irritation, shifting behind her umber gaze.       ❛    i don’t know, babydoll   ---   always this annoying ??    ❜

[techniical-blog]

@ichormade.

never let it be said that vivian dixon is a social butterfly.    perhaps she had been, once  ---  a creature beget from velveteen cocoon,   her wings an iridescent sweep of the paintbrush, diamanté embellishment coruscating at each long,limbed tip, but time had long-since rotted those away.     digits itch to fiddle with something   ---   anything, really, as long as it would not easily shatter in her uncivil metacarpus   ---   &   come up empty,   voltaic cerebellum longing for the confines of code, binary, one of the few concept that unwinds wire-trap limbs.        she does not want to be here.    that much is plain.     she is too open here, too vulnerable to attack,   &   the awareness of this fact shows in the SHRINKING of her flowerbud frame.      she clears her throat.       ❛    let’s get this over with.    ❜ 

[techniical-blog]

Would you rather have sex with Alec or Hitler

❛    —— stop.    ❜

[thebatmn]