*rides your dick but only as a friend*
"We obsess. It’s our nature. We turn on a track, around and around; we march in step; we act out the same tales, over and over, the same sets of motions, while time piles up like yarn under a wheel."
- personification of regret. not as awful as he could be, surprisingly.
- multi-fandom, multi-ship, so on.
- will write any style from one-liners to novellas.
- approximately three years of experience on tumblr.
- skype available for mutuals upon request.
paradoxofconstellations asked ;
"-- I've got peppermint, and lemon."
he’s not in the mood to accept visitors — & how much more obvious
can that message be than in the looming, swirling, corporeal pool
of primordial void that shadows the circumference of his temporary
home? a darkness so deep, it tears your limbs from sight & leaves
you straddled in an empty abyss? he thinks it’s fitting, to make his
statement that way - so that those who should come looking for him
should feel the fear it instills - that L O N E S O M E , frightening
feeling to be caught in a state of unknowing still.
but while the
dark rarely disobeys him, long before he had given the balancing
sister a ’ free pass ’
so to speak through his shadow - an offer, even
now, he hesitates to regret - & so the mass of his shield separates
for her, instead of swallowing her into its depths, parting enough so
that she might see the path to the cabin sheltered in the din.
❝ You spoil me. ❞
arrogant characters refusing to admit they care about people
arrogant characters not realizing they care about people
arrogant characters realizing they care about someone after something terrible happens to them
"i’m not bitter" i say, bitterly, with a bitter expression
( stiles: )
there’s a bittersweet twinge in the air between both ‘mother’ &
son ; one which left a sour taste in the back of stiles’ throat. it made
the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, left him unsure of
which direction to take. a dream it might have been, but the teen
was more than aware of how real the subconscious could make
a hesitant step forward
& the voice that had once helped
him drift to sleep had him coming
to a stunted halt.
it’s not his mother —
stiles isn’t stupid enough to assume that it is.
— and yet, hand still reaches out for
c l a w.
[ why deny his g u i l t when they both
know it to be t r u e ? ]
i wish you were real. ❞
the dream is a cruel one, but a dream it remains all the same —
one full of gentle, longing glances and foxes fangs held captured
behind dainty lips. but well maintained or not - every dream has its
flaws, and theirs is shown in the sharpness of her nails, the fury in
her smile, and the swish of a fox’s tail kept trapped in her shadow.
WHAT A PITIABLE FOOL
they love it, truly, they LIVE for it - live for him, & now they show it
through a gentled touch of a mother’s hands to cup his cheeks, but
softness is not in their nature and their claws dig into his flesh —
blood ripped from him as they stab and grab and push closer.
❝ I’m real. I’m here. I promise. ❞
& theirs eyes mean to say ‘ I won’t leave - not now - not ever ' but
their hands are slinking from scarred cheeks to his throat and now
they’re CHOKING HIM and THROTTLING HIM and KILLING HIM.