HIGH - KEY STARTER CALL!
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HIGH - KEY STARTER CALL!
me: can you tuck me in
them: ??? you handed me a shovel
me: yeah just spread the dirt over me as evenly as you can thanks
When you start rubbing your eye and you hit the G-spot
someone: are you ok?
me: [pouring gasoline on myself] yeah why do you ask?
i always look sleep deprived is that hot
narcotric:
❛ simple. you called me a bitch – yet in doing so, you YOURSELF are being just that. you’re a bitch. logic ‘n shit. ❜ ah, smugness donned ; awfully proud of that one.
❛ i was the honest observer ; you were the unnecessary bitch. ❜ jeez, he doesn’t even care whatsoever. the guy patronises me over the smell of my perpetual state and i’m an asshole?
hiberniis:
orbs of hazel will CLOSELY watch his every move, frightful && critical. she’ll unwind only when the blade is finally out of his grip, the strain in her body reclines. his question is thought on over moments of saturated silence, still skeptical. ‘ mm i g-guess so. ’ no. fingers still lightly tremble, better than before. ‘ why d-do you have th-that with you ? ’ she refuses to inquire about the colour tainting the knife, better she didn’t know.
❛ why wouldn’t i. ❜ a fair statement he believes. is there some advantage to not having a knife about your person at all times? no. he always finds himself so suddenly ... materialising into scenes of HELLISH VIOLENCE, horse - hooves and sledgehammers. it comes in handy, weapons do, as he’s noted just half an hour previous.
nxcro:
“You too, huh?”, her tongue played with the bud of her cig, wiggling it up and down in her teeth. Mmm.. she knew she tasted something decaying about him, “Try anglin’ yourself differently, it’ll least knock you back a while before returnin.’”
❛ eh. ❜ he got bored of that. frame on the smaller side, yes, but can endure massively inhuman infliction. he just kept getting up. neither died ( properly ) nor felt more alive doing it, so he’s moved on.
godwaters:
AW. AW MAN, this is so unfair those were his good shoes because he’s ACTUALLY bothered to wear shoes today. He deserves better than this, he just wants to live and he’s going to HUFF at the other before taking a step back and looking at the other, the grass below them growing, making the vomit disappear. Just a SUBTLE use of his powers but not something that could be ignored because it OBVIOUSLY wasn’t normal. Chewing hard on his lower lip he crosses his arms. What a nasty boy. He can hear the scratching of bugs inside the man and part of him wants to take USE of that. They’re small enough he can control them, but it wouldn’t be right. He’s not like this one, who is taking FAR to much mirth out of this. “One day the earth is going to claim you, son. And it ain’t going to be pretty.”
trip wipes his mouth with the heel of his hand, shaking the tip of his boot off. neat little trick. do people expose themselves this easily nowadays? doesn’t know what the other is, exactly but he’s curious, you could say. ❛ is that a threat? ❜ FAT CHANCE. the earth had its chance and he escaped. quicker than he can comprehend. well, he can’t really comprehend returning from the dead so he doesn’t stress himself too much over it. ❛ nothing is ever pretty. ❜ he decides, he isn’t, his death wasn’t, so he’s not too worried about some apocalyptic chime of judgement.
HIGH - KEY STARTER CALL!
ghoulardii:
“ that’s weird. “ he snorts. OF ALL THINGS, sniffing feet is considered weird to him. says the guy who’s into having his organs SPILLED OUT BEFORE HIM. supposes to each their own. “ i don’t like feet. feet is strange lookin’. LIKE LONG HANDS. “
❛ ... right. ❜ trip glances down, notes the other has FREAKISHLY long fingers. would point it out but assumes it’s going to go down like the rest of their conversation. silence befalls him, he isn’t much of a talker, just fiddles around with his zippo and denies himself the building hunger.
so fun question why cant i reblog anything
*to the tune of barbie girl* i’m a garbage man,, in a garbage can
hiberniis:
‘ c-can you p-put that a-away ? ’ teeth will nervously graze her bottom lip, she’s all too aware of the STAINED blade resting easily in his hand. scarlet && ruddy. her stomach twists, lurches, turns. pallid fingers unwillingly twitch at her sides, it’s a natural response. she’ll make a miserable attempt to control it. ‘ p-please. ’
a silence ensues : DAMNING. knife drags, with it a sound of sheer suspense. eyes bore into a murky reflection. ❛ hm. ❜ well since she asked so nicely. hips lift, it retreats, secure in jean’s waistband. yet, it’s not as if he is going to use it on her, she needn’t worry, he thinks. doesn’t get what all of the fuss is about. ❛ better? ❜
narcotric:
❛ hey! kids in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. what would your mum think? and on this – mothers day. for SHAME, man. ❜
❛ and that involves me how? ❜ if that was a beautifully lyricised message of moral, he’s missed it.