carcosuh

[carcosuh]

charmion--kassil‌:

[ Snowstorm ]

“Can you believe it?” Charmion asked, crossing her arms to trap her body heat. It wasn’t too uncommon to snow a little bit in Primm (and parts of Las Vegas), but not like this. Charmion had a bad feeling that something was off. “All this snow coming in, and tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. I’m spending my favorite holiday on a blind date. Weird as it sounds-” and it was weird, given how experienced Charmion typically was on dates, “-do you have any advice for blind dates?”

“Hardly. We never got snow like this back in Louisiana. I’m still tryin’ to wrap my head ‘round the idea that one place could be hit with so much at one time.” Carcosa replied, curls of steam forming in the air as the brunette spoke, dissipating just as quickly as they had appeared. “Sounds like this storm’s supposed to be a real doozy.” A single brow arched in response to the woman’s question. “Well, that certainly doesn’t sound like the worst way to spend Valentine’s Day. Definitely better than some’a the ways I’ve spent mine in the past.” She chuckled, remembering previous nights spent curled up on her couch with a joint and a book or scrubbing questionable substances from the floor of the bar. This would be the first year Carcosa took Valentine’s day seriously, her plans for a much needed getaway with Cyrek giving the holiday a newfound shine. “I’m sure you’ve already heard ‘be yourself’ enough times to last you the next two decades, so I’ll spare ya on that one.” She was silent for a moment, chewing her words carefully as she tried to think of advice that was a bit more useful. “Keep an open mind. Be direct an’ honest with ‘em if you don’t see things workin’ out. Always have a friend on standby if it turns out you’ve been set up with a complete nutjob and ya need a quick escape. And most importantly? Remember to breathe.”

[carcosuh]

Are you a good cook?

“I think I’m a pretty decent one. I might not be the next Gordon Ramsay, but I do alright. Norma’s never been able to make so much as a piece of toast without burnin’ it. Dad’s actually the one I learned the majority of my cooking skills from, along with a few old cookbooks I found in our attic when I was somewhere around twelve.”

[carcosuh]

Do you believe in fairytales?

“I don’t think I’ve believed in fairytales since I was six, my friend.”

[carcosuh]

@prxphcts

[carcosuh]

“She was a compulsive pessimist, always looking for the soft brown spot in the fruit, pressing so hard she created it.”

— Amy Waldman, The Submission (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

[carcosuh]

jameson is yummy.

[carcosuh]

honesty night!

carcosa tara janie

[carcosuh]

hey, sugar plums. i just wanted to pop on real quick and say that i kinda had a rough day at work so i probably won’t be around much today. i know i’ve got some ims that need answering and some threads to reply to. i’ll be getting back to everyone asap !! just pls know that i’m not ignoring you and hopefully i’ll be feeling more like myself later tonight or tomorrow. <3

[carcosuh]

    HAPPY BELATED 26TH BIRTHDAY, CARCOSA LUSK!

                                           ( december 29 - @carcosuh )                                  Make sure to send her love and birthday wishes !                                          See the in-character birthday list here.

[carcosuh]

[carcosuh]

[x]

[carcosuh]

@prxphcts

i wanna be the one who makes your bad days better

[carcosuh]

prxphcts‌:

@carcosuh​

[ timestamp: evening, january 10, 2019 ]

Panted breaths harshly celebrated the vocalist’s release in the brunette underneath him, thin frame pressed against hers, trembling, and lips buried against her neck, soothing irritated bruising he’d left behind in the wake of overwhelming passions. One final time, the thought passed through his head, that it would be the last time, intertwined with her so perfectly, to ring about the end of all things with an elated note, as everyone should. Cyrek wanted to leave her with more than that, with words and emotions he had been carrying around for months– years– toward the woman underneath him and in his darkest hour, he was quick to be labeled still a fucking coward. When he finally lifted his head, it was to nuzzle his nose against her jawline, to kiss the corner of her lips in the way he often did to invite further kissing, crossing the line of just a casual fling the second he did that when it was over. When he could finally breathe, and find it in him to pull away, he did roll off beside her. The contact, loss of physical intimacy, was brief at best, slender hands grasping for her tiny figure to pull against him and welcome into the warmth of his chest. In their past rendezvous, he had started to settle into the sensation of her head resting against his chest, frequently curl up around her in the dark and held her until either his alarm called him to the real world or his children, shielding her from the world. The sense of finality urged him to sprinkle in extra affections, cupping her delicate cheek and leaning to press his lips against it, fluttering mismatched eyes closed and drawing fingers through her locks. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against Carcosa’s, tracing to tuck stray pieces of hair behind her ear, whispering, “I gotta go home early tonight… You gonna be okay here with your mum?” Not in the sense he didn’t think she could take care of herself, merely a reassuring questioning, an idle, aloud musing that hinted he wished that this were not her life. Carcosa always wanted to make a life better than this for herself, he knew it, and part of the vocalist wished he could’ve given that– could. Like he was already existing in the past tense. “I’m gonna miss you.” It was breathed against her lips, to many appearing curtailed sentiment regarding his touring schedule, and hoping to pass it off as such. Eyes fluttered open, seeking one of her hands in the dark to interlock their fingers, hooking one leg around hers to pull her closer than close. How a wretched part of him would love to stay, just for that face, just for that damaged girl with her crumbling life, for another night of mischief and secrets, seeing how many rounds they could go and how much stress they could release. “Don’t get into any trouble when I’m gone, yeah?” the male teased, managing a crooked, tired grin.

Soft sighs and muffled moans of pleasure turned into something louder and more urgent in their final moments of bliss. Carcosa always did her best to keep her volume to a minimum, largely due to the fact that she never wanted to risk waking her mother, but partially because she’d just never been a particularly loud lover. Or at least, not until she first slept with Cyrek. He just had a way of bringing something entirely different out of her; something more passionate and less inhibited, Carcosa often forgetting that her deadbeat mother even existed during their frequent romps, instead succumbing to the satisfaction her partner worked so hard to provide and losing herself in the moment, completely handing herself over to him. She shuddered as the final waves of her climax washed over her, still clinging to Cyrek as he peppered her neck with kisses, the brunette cocking her head and arching her back just slightly to press into his touch. She’d almost let the words slip just moments before the end, a desperate ‘I love you’ forming on the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t the first time the words had dared to escape, but it was the closest call she’d had yet, the first two words of the deceleration managing to actually spill over in the midst of it all. Thankfully, Carcosa had caught herself before she could complete that sentence, covering up her fumble with a moan and a sensual “I love it when you do that.’  ( Perhaps if she knew of the tragedy that would come to light just hours after what was supposed to be their final rendezvous, she would have made a different choice. ) There was something different about tonight’s hookup, Carcosa decided as Cyrek rolled off of her, only to immediately pull her in close. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what exactly had changed, couldn’t even articulate what felt so different about this night in particular compared to every other. But something told her there had been a shift - specifically in Cyrek, and it made the pit of her stomach twist and turn with a heavy sense of unease. It wasn’t that he’d done anything wrong; the sex had been fantastic, the banter was still there, he was affectionate and loving, even more so than usual. He still appeared to be the same old Cyrek that she’d come to love and know, but at the same time, it all felt so... hollow. Almost as if the light inside of him had gone out, and he was simply running going through the motions and putting on a carefully constructed mask to keep her from worrying. He was incredibly doting and attentive, pulling the bartender so tightly to him that the only way for them to be any closer would be if their skin fused together. But it also felt as if there was some sort of distance between them, Cyrek’s mention of needing to leave early that night sparking confusion in his lover. “I’ll be fine. You know I can handle Norma.” She lifted her hand to gently cup his face, her thumb idly stroking over his cheekbone. It wasn’t like him to tap out so early, the two of them usually pushing their time together as far it could stretch. “What’s the rush, though?” She asked, placing a few tender kisses along his jaw. “I kinda planned on bein’ selfish tonight and keepin’ ya all to myself.” Her eyes searched for his in the darkness, the soft light of the moon spilling through her window only illuminating his outline. “I’m gonna miss you.” Any other time, the sentiment would’ve been well-received. But something about it felt wrong, like there was a deeper hidden meaning that Carcosa had yet to unveil. “I... I’m gonna miss you too, but you’re not leavin’ that soon, right? I thought you still had a little more time before your text tour.” She squeezed his hand, trying to shake the feeling of dread that rested so heavily on her chest away. Maybe she was reading too far into things, or perhaps she was just being ridiculously needy. She tried to convince herself that this was all in her head, that her anxiety was just getting the best of her at the worst of times, as it so often did. But something continued to gnaw at the back of her skull despite her best efforts to silence it. Something in her gut told Carcosa to make him stay. “I believe you’re the one that finds their way into trouble.” She teased, a tiny smirk twitching the corners of her lips upwards. “But maybe if you stayed here tonight, I’d be more inclined to keep myself in line.” Her lips found his neck, nails dragging themselves down the center of his back. “Well, mostly in line, anyway.”

[carcosuh]

honesty night!

carcosa

tara

janie

[carcosuh]

@prxphcts

[carcosuh]

prxphcts‌:

“Fuck off, I’m the hottest punk in Primm. Admit it, baby, I’ve got the best ass,” the vocalist teased, grinning and winking at her. He tried not to be stupid and overthink what was going on between them, dismissing it as anything else, as he did with so many people he wasn’t in relationships with, past or present– Damian, Luna, Tyler, Emerson, Lucy, countless faces of people in his past he had looked the other way. When he thought about it too hard, it often freaked him out, stuck in that odd mindset that if he did end up in a relationship with them, they would stop loving him. That was what had turned out to be truth in all of his own, wasn’t it? High school sweetheart turned to the needle, Melanie was fucking dead and buried and never his to keep or fuck, his ex-fiancee had pushed him into a fucking mirror and spat how much she fucking hated him, and he’d only married Mishil out of obligation when she’d asked, because it was the right thing, even when their love faded and withered away. Loyalty overcame his desire for happiness, and he’d never been a happy person. Hell, Damian and him were never a we, they were just fucking, and to fall in love with his best friend ripped apart his world, chewed up his heart and spit it out. With Carcosa, it felt right, effortless, chalking it up to yet another case of friendship. And emotions were messy, he’d made a mess of his own the second he opened himself to her. To let spill the lurking demons underneath, in an affair that had started before his time of a toxic engagement. And thereafter, when he revealed it, black-and-blue bruises lurking behind makeup after he’d broken up with her, seeking comfort in a familiar body to hold between his hands, to kiss his pain better, bruised throat, black eye– gentle hands. Whatever unspoken emotional connection, neither of them had guts to say it. He’d never had guts to say much in way of romance, complacent to be used. Besides, he couldn’t promise anyone their dream boy. Of course, with or without, they were still at it– and frequently, with newfound single status beyond the casual dates he’d had with Lucy, indulging in the stress relief. The intimacy of being able to sleep next to someone who didn’t sleep on the other side of the fucking bed, like Mishil always had. Intimacy had grown cold before the marriage started. But there was always that with the brunette, fingers interlacing and bodies pressed together, and the thing he craved most– she made him feel wanted, like he was shaking and somewhere between the gates of Heaven and earth simultaneously and he never wanted to come down from that high, or like he was at peace when her head rested on his chest. He never got that opportunity with Damian. His long fingernails would scrape her skin, gently trailing the line of her spine, admiring her figure in the moonlight, eyelashes brushing the slant of fine cheekbones. Safe. Someone he trusted after his assault he’d seldom admitted to anyone, most recently his sister-in-law and half-sister, and before that, her. He never flinched when her hands ran lower than his waistband, and in return, maybe he did a few too many things he shouldn’t, like kissing her over and over when the fun was said and done, smiling against her mouth, fingers tracing the line of her jaw. Like laughing too loud when she joked with him, nearly waking up her mother and no, he wasn’t a quiet lover, and he’s a screamer by all means, but he could bite and mark to shut himself up, momentous happiness passing him by. Smirking when the snowball made its mark, he failed to duck in time, cold snow hitting him in the face and shaking his head, managing to avoid the second by throwing a snowball in crossfire. “Get back here!” he yelled, scrambling through the snow after her when she started to run, lanky legs urging him to chase after her, “If I catch you, you’re gonna regret it!”

“Fantastic ass, but a terrible ego.” The idea of prompting the dreaded question had crossed her mind on several occasions. The words had formed one too many times on the tip of her tongue, forced down and crammed back into a neat little box where she kept everything so carefully tucked away, only to claw their way out and attempt to break free once again the next time her hand instinctively reached for his or their gazes lingered on one another for just a bit too long. What were they? The question came loaded, but had no clear answer, neither Carcosa or Cyrek daring to be the first to ask it. They weren’t just friends despite what they tried so desperately to make themselves and those around them believe. Just friends didn’t find themselves tangled between the sheets after a long day. They didn’t slip suggestive remarks into conversation or sneak heated touches when no one was looking, and just friends certainly didn’t fuck the way that they did. But there were many, many times where they didn’t appear to be just a casual fling either. Casual flings didn’t stay the night after the fun was over. They didn’t bare their souls to one another with such ease. Casual flings didn’t hold each other close or place tender kisses on the other’s forehead when they’d had a bad day. Casual flings didn’t care so goddamn much, and they certainly didn’t look at each other the same way Cyrek and Carcosa so often did. Whatever they were, it was messy and it was complicated and it was asking for trouble. That’s the only conclusion she had ever been able to come to without asking him outright. But she remained silent, her desire to know nowhere near as great as her fear of losing whatever this was within the blink of an eye. She knew his love life had been nothing short of a train wreck; from an abusive ex to a loveless marriage, even to falling in love with a boy that just didn’t love him the same. Her heart broke for him time and time again, the memory of deep purple bruises and a dark blue ring around his neck forever seared into her memory. Carcosa held him with such a delicate touch, the fear of hurting Cyrek just as others had done before her something she wrestled with every day. How much she cared for him could be overwhelming at times, Carcosa never sure of what the appropriate amount of compassion was to display in a situation like this. She didn’t know where to put it all down. And try as she might to stuff it all away in her heavy little box of emotions and things she just couldn’t stand to face, it always seemed to bleed through the cracks and seep through the bottom, spilling into even the most mundane of her actions. She didn’t want to scare Cyrek. Didn’t want him to feel pressured or as if their arrangement had to turn into something more. And perhaps Carcosa herself was a little fearful, if she were being honest. Fearful of the private little world they’d built together crashing and burning to the ground if either of them so much as even dared to to tackle the subject. Fearful of being the only one that felt the strong emotional connection, and looking like an absolute idiot when it all came tumbling down. So she kept it all to herself, refusing to touch the matter and hoping that if she for once in her life left well enough alone, then perhaps the mess they’d already made would remain somewhat manageable. “Yes!” The woman cheered when her retaliation made contact, pausing mid-run to giddily punch the air. “Now it looks like I’m the one kickin’ your ass!” She swiftly dodged his incoming attack, flipping him the bird with a laugh. Her eyes widened at the sight of the much taller man barreling at her, Carcosa squealing with delight as she broke into a run and dashed in the opposite direction. “Try all ya want, but you’re never catchin’ me!”

[carcosuh]

prxphcts‌:

“The smug-ass grin on your face!” Cyrek taunted back, matching her step for step and looking around him in mock suspicion when she hinted at another punk in the area, narrowed, cat-like pupils zeroing in on her face when he teased, “Really now? Better not have been aimin’ for someone cuter than me, y’know. I’ll be very offended.” Smirking, he pretend to fluff blonde curls, before raking slender fingers to smooth them somewhat. He’d always been shy of his natural hair, preferring to straighten it out and then hairspray it into the typical spikes he had adorned for years now, but he’d failed to find the motivation between the shrinking time gap to arrive at the square and beating the shit out of his depression with a figurative stick. True, his life had been going in the shitter for months now and it didn’t necessarily start with his wife dying– in the midst of a loveless marriage, that might have been anyone’s dream, only it was a terrible nightmare for someone who had lost too many and was gripped with suffocating fear of another body count added his list, might as well start fucking etching them into his skin to be forever reminded of what he should be blaming himself for. Fucking up his interpersonal relationships again, that was his fault too. Times like these, where the world grew dark and his flame ebbed dimmer, a loathing part of Cyrek shoved hard, whoever tried to push inward. This time around, he could sense how it had worsened, struggling to get over the Goddamn punk he’d wanted to give his heart to. In the end, he was right: he didn’t want it, or he’d be here. He’d be anywhere, up to this point. Damian wasn’t here, though. As with everything in his life where love were involved, he was the pretty fool, a king where the crown hang heavy. And where lines blurred like his and Carcosa’s, comforting arrangements often grew messy and indistinguishable, especially when she’d started searching for the answers. For the key. Like she wanted to open the box, and perplexed as he was by her want to know, cigarette in hand in post-sex ritual, smoke billowing from his pierced nose, the vocalist could only muster the exact two words that have, somehow, dragged him through life– I’m fine. Frankly, her search for it– he didn’t get it, being cared for by lovers a concept tragically foreign in comparison to lips tracing her supple skin, committing the patterns of her body to memory another night over. Teasingly whispering sweet nothings that mean something in the heat of the moment, hands itching to hold even if it weren’t in lustful sense of intimacy, the feeling of her thumb stroking the birthmark etched upon his hip in the shape of a lopsided heart. Emotions were messy, and try as he might to not get tangled up, he always did. Smirking when the snowball collided with her shoulder, he lifted a hand and called out, “Sorry, what were you sayin’? Couldn’t hear you over the sound of me kickin’ your fuckin’ ass!” Ducking just in time to miss her own throw, he started to scoop up another, poking his tongue out and closing one eye when he aimed. “Oh, you want me to say go? Alright, then,” Cyrek chided, pulling his arm back and aiming for her ass while she was leaning over, in perfect irony, “Go!”

“Oh, please. As if you aren’t the smuggest of assholes.” She was beaming through the round of lighthearted trash talk, unable to mask her joy as his and her spirits seemed to be at least temporarily lifted. “And if I was? Don’t forget you’re not the only punk in Primm, Cy. I’d hate to see ya get all jealous.” Somewhere, deep in the pit of her subconscious, Carcosa knew from the start that crawling into bed with Cyrek was a bad idea. It was just supposed to be a one time deal: two former coworkers turned friends turned lovers for one night finding comfort in one another during some of the lowest point of their lives. Their first encounter spawned shortly after her father had been incarcerated, the trial taking a heavy toll on Carcosa and the news that Marty would be spending the next two and a half decades behind bars steadily tearing her in two. She’d shut most of the people around her out, too busy grieving the ambiguous loss of the one parent that ever gave even half of a shit about her while simultaneously wrestling with the knowledge that he’d willingly handed himself over to police. And she’d most certainly tried to shut Cyrek out too, curling in on herself, the safety of isolation bringing her a special sort of comfort that she didn’t think any living being could. But he persisted and he was safe. And he had a way of making her talk about the things that she never wanted to discuss, sometimes tricking her into spilling the beans before she even realized what was actually happening. But most importantly, he didn’t run. He didn’t flake at the first sign of trouble and decide that her crumbling life was far too much to handle, unlike so many others before him. He offered her a safe place to put all of the anger and fear and pain that had been brewing for months down, and in turn the two helped each other create a temporary escape from their less than desirable lives. Carcosa knew exactly what sort of mess awaited them the second she pressed her lips against his, and somewhere deep down she knew that it was never going to be a one time thing, as much as they would’ve liked to believe. But she couldn’t bring herself to call it quits the first time she felt his fingers running through her hair. Nor could she the second time, or the third, or the fourth, or any other time after that. Their little arrangement was far too comfortable for either of them to give up. All of those times that she rested her head against his bare chest, fingertips idly tracing the outlines of his tattoos, or the times where she awoke in the middle of the night to find his arms wrapped around her tiny frame helped ease the ache of what awaited them beyond a bedroom door. She found herself caring for Cyrek more than a casual hookup probably should, but couldn’t bring herself to hide it. His presence had helped make her life a little less miserable, and she only wanted to do the same for him. “More like ya couldn’t hear me over the sound of your head bein’ jammed so far up your own ass!” She shouted back, letting out a frustrated huff when her snowball missed. Hindsight would tell her that it was rather unwise to turn her back to Cyrek, the ice cold thud of a snowball crashing full speed into her rump making the small brunette yelp. “Cyrek!” She exclaimed, somewhere between a laugh and a yell. She whirled around to look at him, a fire in her eyes as she grabbed a second fistful of snow, now holding two rather large snowballs. “You’re gonna pay for that!” She rocketed the first, then the second in his direction before running for cover.