Write Me Out

"They say the captain goes down with the ship, so when the world ends will God go down with it?" Brandon, I like intense characters. This is just a writing blog. Don't mind me. I like to roleplay, If you have an interesting plot message me. Everything I post is my work. If it's reblogged, however, or sourced - it's not mine.

[trap--house]

▇ ▇ ▇ VICTIMS OF ABADDON

i. This Is War, 30 Seconds To Mars

ii. Glory And Gore, Lorde

iii. Sympathy For The Devil, The Rolling Stones

iv. My Boy Builds Coffins, Florence + The Machine

v. Houdini, Foster The People

vi. Handshake, Two Door Cinema Club

vii. Monster, Imagine Dragons

viii. Breathe (Glitch Mob Remix), The Prodigy

listen here

[trap--house]

Day Two: Red

It was the color I dripped, leaving my mark on the pure white snow. It was the color of your cheeks when you met me, bleeding on your doorstep - the color of the fabric you were wrapped in. Not only was it the color you were tangled in - but it was the color of your scent, the aroma you were drenched with, even beneath the rosy perfume. It was the color of panic in your voice as you helped me inside, the color of your skin being stained with my blood; the color of the pool of plasma on the hardwood. The color of your worry, your concern; laced with a strange curiosity about me - the same color I was riddled with. It was the color of what I soon felt for you, the undeniable craving, the intense desire that burned and crackled like a flame; the color of my lust, my want. But not only want - it was the color of my need, my adoration, my love; it was the color of my unwavering loyalty. It was the color of everything good. But, it was the color of something wicked, someone wicked - the color he wore when he came to see you. The color of his voice, laced with a devilish hint of black - an emptiness even I felt uncomfortable around. It was the color of your scream and the color of my rage when I pushed the door open, finding him holding you down, the color of the smirk, wide across his lips. It was the only color I could see, the only color I could hear - it was the only color I could breath; and I took in lungfuls of it. It was the color of my unhinged, unchained rage. It was the color he bled; the color of his beating heart as I ripped it from his chest; and the color of my lips as I ripped him up and spat him out. It was the color of his death.  It was the color in your eyes - not a fear for me, or the beast I’d proven I was; but the color of thankfulness and love - the color you’d teach me so much about. It was the color that started our story, and ended his.

[trap--house]

▇ ▇ ▇ Run Away With Me

i. All Signs Points To Lauderdale, A Day To Remember

ii. First Date, Blink 182

iii. Somewhere In Neverland, All Time Low

iv. Best Day Of My Life, American Authors

v. Great Escape, Boys Like Girls

vi. Young Volcanoes, Fall Out Boy

vii. Fast In My Car, Paramore

viii. Someday, The Strokes

ix. Alone Together, Fall Out Boy

x. Ain't It Fun, Paramore

xi. Sugar We're Going Down, Fall Out Boy

xii. Kids In Love, Mayday Parade

xiii. Time Bomb, All Time Low

xiv. Highway To Hell, AC/DC

xv. Chocolate, The 1975

xvi. Right Back To You, For The Foxes

[trap--house]

Day One: Fight

“I said shut up.” Ryder growled, striding toward the blonde and bringing a hand up to grip at her neck, pushing her body back against the wall. “I said… Shut. Up.” the words came out as a snarl - barely understandable through the low throaty huffing accompanying them. “Who cares what you say, you’re worthless.” she spat the words at him, quite literally. “Stop.” he wasn’t in any mood to be pushed - the past week had been nothing but pushing. His father, pushing, his mother, his sisters, the media - everyone had been up in his face, pushing harder than ever before. “Why, can’t handle being told what you are? You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Ryder. You’re stupid, you’re pointless, and your father doesn’t love you.” The words made his fingers curl into her neck.

Jane and Ryder fought all the time; it had never been a healthy relationship. From him being a jerk at times to her using him for his money, there was always a problem between them. His anger issues never helped, they always pushed the issue - made everything worse than it needed to be. Jane was a manipulative cunt, to be perfectly honest. She had absolutely no redeeming qualities, constantly belittling Ryder, especially after fights with his father. She pushed, and pushed, waiting for her on edge boyfriend to just fly off the handle. Well, tonight she was pushing all too hard.

“Let go of me!” she choked on the words, his fingers holding so tightly at her delicate throat that they could barely leave her lips. “You fucking slut.” his lip curled up into a snarl, his other hand raising to grip her chin, tilting her head upward. “I’m sick of your shit.” he’d taken it for so long - so many fucking times, so many slurs and words and quips of degradation. He was tired of it all, and there was no way he’d let it happen again. “Let me go you c—” the hand holding her jaw smacked against her cheek, slapping the words back down into her throat. “Shut. Your fucking. Mouth. For once you whore. Just shut it.” he was never this angry…

Of course, she had to push just that little bit further… there he was on the edge, and there she was behind him, shoving him over it. “Your father would be so proud.” she said hoarsely, her throat dry and sore - bruises already forming from his fingers. That was it, the one thing she needed to say to snap the last twig holding him back - the dam broke, the anger came flooding out in waves.

The first came in Ryder using the grip he had to flip the girl to the ground, dropping himself on top of her, the hand on her neck gripping even tighter. “You. Fucking. Cunt.” for the first time she actually looked terrified when he spoke - and rightly so. Each time she opened her mouth to make a sound his hand slapped her face, a few times she spit out gobs of blood tainted spit. He warned her endlessly, told her to stop, told her to just go away and never once did she listen. There was only so much he could take.

Hands trembled against her neck, watching her eyes go red, listening to the sounds of her chocking on her own throat. “I fucking hate you.” he stood up, dropping his hands away from her. “No, no you’re not worth my time.” Ryder turned, shaking his head, trying to tame the monster she let out of the cage. He already had his coat on when she called him pathetic again “Can’t even go through with it, you’re pathetic - just like your father.” Without as much as a second thought, the second wave came rushing out. This time he picked the girl up by a clump of hair before smashing her face into the marble counter top.

Pathetic…. Pathetic…. Pathetic?

Why did that word come up so much - why pathetic, he wondered constantly. Why was he pathetic? At this point, the only thing going through his mind was to make her stop saying it. Make her stop saying anything - just… make her stop.

The screaming, the crying, the begging - none of it bothered him; none of it gave him that signal to stop. He wasn’t done; he wasn’t even close to done. Ryder stood, watching the bloody girl crawling around the room, quite disoriented. “Pathetic!?” he shouted at her - she screamed, dropping to the ground and cupping her hands over her ears. “Pathetic…” he muttered softly, wondering about that word again. “Am I pathetic, Jane?” a blood covered hand raised to scratch roughly at his itching eyebrow, smearing her plasma across his own blank canvas of a face.

Of course, she didn’t answer - she couldn’t answer, her mouth was full of blood; her jaw was hanging loosely from her once pretty face. There were teeth littered across the floor, followed by a trail of bright red blood. The scream she let out when he kneeled beside her made his head ache. “Shut the fuck up,” he snarled, smashing her face against the table beside them. With that she was unconscious, laying on the ground gargling on the pool of blood swelling in her lungs. She didn’t look like Jane anymore, maybe that’s why the rage was settling. She wasn’t dead, but she would be if he didn’t stop. “Pathetic.” he laughed lowly, turning her head and watching a waterfall of red pour from her lips. “Fuck you.”

Without a grimace, without so much as a tinge of remorse, Ryder stood and lit a cigarette, pushing it between his lips and dialing a never before touched number on his cell. “Remember how my father said if I ever made a mistake I should call you?” his tone was eerily calm; the beast was sleeping back in its cage - sated for the time. The man on the other end merely grunted out a ‘yes’ - “Well…” he sucked in a lungful of smoke, “here it is.” Dropping the phone to the floor, Ryder took a seat on the obsidian leather couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table that was still dripping blood. “Pathetic…” his mind wandered back to the word, repeating it over and over for the next few hours.

[trap--house]

Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.

-Edgar Allen Poe

[trap--house]

"What's it called again? A double edged sword?" he shrugged a little, shaking his head. “Irony?" the man pulled a cigarette free from the brown and white pack, bringing it to his lips. “What? You don’t know what I’m talking about?” he almost laughed, but was too busy lighting his smoke. “Now, look here. Those girls. Think of them as mythical creatures - they’re beautiful, unattainable, magical even.” his hands fluttered around in the air, acting out his words, giving them a life of their own. “Mermaids. Nypmhs.” a smirk formed across his lips. “Sirens - they call to me. Maybe they call to everyone, but most people can’t hear them. It's kind of like a.. a dog whistle.” he wondered- was he the only one that heard it? “But their sounds; the heartbeats, the breathing, the booming songs their souls singing. That shit lights my very own god damn soul on fire.” Jericho hopped onto the bed, laying down and taking a lungful of the thick smoke. “If I have one, that is. Black as it may fucking be.” scrunching his nose up, he added “but it’s not the good sort of way, it… It’s fucking overwhelming.” 

Flipping a few times on the bed, he got comfortable, kicking his boots off and cuddling into the pillows. “But when they stop all that - the breathing and all. Their silent song is so fucking incredible - it’s enthralling and you lose yourself in it. Have you ever heard that shit? It’s cold, enchanting - lifeless, but fucking powerful.” Looking over, he perked a brow. “Oh, the double edged sword thing. Well, I get my girl, I do what I can- what I need. She sings my silent lullaby and then she’s gone forever. Let my little sleeping beauties drift back into their watery graves - where they belong. Keep them beautiful for a while longer. Well, at least until the bloating starts anyway.” He was getting off track, thinking about it all. “Look- the only way I can hear that fucking melody is by killing her, but it fades so quickly. I get what I want, but I don’t get it for long. I guess it’s worth it. It’s like an orgasm - huge build up, short release, some aftershocks and then it’s gone. Just like that. I guess there’s that sense of euphoria afterward, but that fades fast, especially when you jump in a burning shower afterwards.” his fingers came up, pinching the still burning end. “Fuck it though. It's not like you give a shit.” his eyes shifted from his burn toward the blonde tied up to the chair. “Fuck, you’re not even listening, are you?”

[trap--house]

▇ ▇ ▇ LIE TO ME

i. Beast of Burden, The Rolling Stones

ii. Call It What You Want, Foster The People

iii. Bloodstream, Stateless

iv. Emergency, Paramore

v. Go To Hell, Go Radio

vi. Take A Bow, Rihanna

vii. All Of This, Blink 182

viii. Typical, Tickle Me Pink

ix. Your Love Is A Lie, Simple Plan

x. Drown, Front Porch Step

[trap--house]

brandon: i wonder if squirrels just wake up and are like 'holy shit i'm a squirrel, i aint got shit to do today.'

me: ....

[trap--house]

The shimmer of scales beneath the layer of clear water catches your eye - draws you in; sets that curiosity into motion. “What was that?” your voice trembles, riddled with a sense of panic - one you should listen to, but one you’ll ignore. There’s no one around to answer your question, it’s you and the ocean, you and the deep blue. “Hello?” as if you’re expecting someone to reply, as if you know it’s not simply a fish - it’s something beautiful and enchanting, that’s why you can’t look away. “Hello…” your words come out as little more than a pained whimper, fingers gripping at the side of the boat, knuckles turning white. “Seeing things…” try and convince yourself… Go ahead, try.  You’re not ready for it, how could you be - the magnificent form of a woman emerging from the briny depths; the length of blonde hair adorned with kelp, pearls and starfish, her nude, glistening body; you can’t take your eyes off her. There’s that sense of panic again, that voice telling you to run, the one begging you to stop staring into those iridescent eyes. Wordlessly she speaks to you - her mouth doesn’t move but you swear you can hear her melodic voice, calling to you and you alone. Her pale hand raises, brushing down your arm to lace her slender fingers with yours. “Come with me.” her silent song beacons you, and you kneel to her, your sweet siren.  “Come with me.” she repeats, her voice smooth and alluring; drawing you closer without your knowledge. By the time you realize what’s happening it’s too late, you’re wrapped up in her long arms, her lips trailing your cooling flesh, teeth sinking into the tender spot on your neck, ripping flesh from bone. There’s a pang of betrayal, but a sense of relief; knowing that you’re dying for her, knowing that she’s chosen you - that she is your end, and you her willing victim. 

[trap--house]

you seem like a hell of a writer, keep going, your writing is awesome!

Waaah, you're so sweet. Thank you.

[trap--house]

it's Hannah ^.^

HANNAH!!

[trap--house]

yo, you're gonna go places with your writing one day. i just know it.

Wow, you're sweet. Thank you so much <3

[trap--house]

The Devil You Know | plot oo1 | open

I stuck around St. Petersburg When I saw it was a time for a change Killed the czar and his ministers Anastasia screamed in vain Jase Hudson | Male (30): Andrew Scott, Aaron Paul or Paul Walker. Female (22): Astrid Berges-Frisbey, Behati Prinsloo, Jessica Stam.

Setting: Modern, 2013, calendar date, USA. Genre: Action, suspense, drama, romance (not based on, just a potential). Rating: Mature - Gore, drugs, violence, alcohol use and  potential sexual content.

PLOT To most, the name Jace Hudson means nothing - less than nothing. The man is a ghost. He doesn’t exist, not on paper at least. There are some, however, that know the name well - be it in a good way or bad. Those that do, know of his certain skill set and upstanding business methods. Some pay the man for his driving skills, the ability to transport anything and everything from point a to point b in a timely manner. Then, there are those that desire his other services. Kidnapping, extortion, assassinations - none of it is beyond Jace as long as the price is right.

The man lives to a certain set of rules that he refuses to break for anyone, if the job doesn’t suit them, he’ll drop it like a hot potato. However, Jace didn’t have rules for this particular incident.

A few days after the new year he got a call, nothing particularly extraordinary about it. Kidnap the child of a very wealthy, very obnoxious, very well known man. What he didn’t expect is for the father to just hand them over - asking Jace to transport the young adult to a very heavily guarded location far from their Nevada home. A small hideout in British Columbia, one he didn’t even know the location of just yet. The father had somehow caught wind of the plot to kidnap his child. They didn’t know the kidnappers meant to kill his child, not simply use the little one for ransom. Even worse yet, is that no one realized they were handing the poor thing off to the man who was supposed to kill her…

Either way, Jace had signed onto both contracts and realized quickly that he had to break a deal with one or the other. Both clients that would bring amazing work in the future. So, with the obnoxious, brat of the child in his back seat he drove. Unsure of his intent, his destination - and at this point, of himself. For now he’ll play the part of the guardian, he’s not supposed to kill the little thing for a few weeks anyway… The plot doesn’t have a specific direction, it could end up with him wanting to kill them, save them - end up finding out the safe house has been compromised. MY CHARACTER Jace is a man of his word, a man of his rules - a man who lives by his own twisted morals. He doesn’t believe in good and evil, good and bad - the bible is just another book, religion is a joke. Jace is his own God, and money is his tribute. He lives as if he owns the world because he knows he’ll never face the repercussions of his choices. The man is snide, cold, collected and calm. He’s very docile while dealing with stressful situations. When confronted with a problem, he’s sarcastic, mouthy and doesn’t yell - which generally makes others uncomfortable. However, if someone brings a gun to a word fight, he’ll gracefully snap their necks before they draw the pistol. Unfortunately, Jace isn’t all calm and cool - at least not all the time. He’s sliding on a slippery slope and the bottom is riddled with sharp rocks. His mind is twisted and torn, he’s not himself, not quite. While Jace can come across as an unshakeable rock, he’s got an angry side that he can tame for only so long. When his rage and confusion builds up enough, a switch flips and something inside him cracks, letting the molten rage from its core. He becomes angry, loud and violent - usually it doesn’t end well for anyone. He’s unreasonable, cares about nothing and loses all sense of self.

Jace is not quite a sociopath, but he certainly shares quite a few traits with the disorder. He has anger issues out the wazzoo and a god-complex to boot. YOUR CHARACTER She grew up sheltered, never leaving the sights of their father. Friends were bought, education was paid for, everything in the child’s life revolved around money - of which their family had plenty of. As She grew up, money became ever more important, meaning more to them than their own fathers love. Sure, it was nice to have the undecided devotion of a man who wished nothing than your betterment - but, money was nicer. She has always been greedy, living in a world where everything has been done for them, handed to them, given to them without question. Despite being an obnoxious brat, she has a kind heart, a soft spot for children and a genuinely curious nature. Money may rule their life, but their heart is wild and untamed - having spent so much time stuck indoors, in a house, around guards - all she has ever hoped for was the chance to explore, adventure, travel. A world free of dictation and being told how to, when to, where to. Of course, while keeping a fortune in the bank - who could have fun without that? she  is a spoiled little brat, but an intelligent one. Fearful and timid when put into serious situations, however in verbal arguments she has a tongue comparable to daggers. Clearly there’s a lot of room for growth to this character, but they’re meant to be the bratty princess type - but, a hopeless dreamer at heart.