justathemetesterrr-blog

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

♦

Send me a “♦” for the first word my muse thinks of when your muse is mentioned.

There wasn’t really a proper word to describe his brother. Well, not to him at least. He was everything, and anything at once to him. He was his blood, his family.

Sometimes it felt like his sanity.

"Rock." 

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

                          WHEN I'M ALONE I JUST CAN'T STOP MYSELF                                     AND YOU PULL MY HEAD SO CLOSE                                      VOLUME GOES WITH THE TRUTH                               SIGNING OFF ❝I'M ALRIGHT IN BED—❞                                    ❝BUT I'M BETTER WITH A PEN.❞

                            the kid was alright but it went to his head

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

——People really do want my head         on a silver platter, don't they.          Going as far as to spread shit         sayin' I'm dead. 

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

he lifts delsin up and the heaviness of a concrete filled hand is felt against his throat. dense fingers wrap around delsin's throat and the contrast between the heat and the weight burns him, hurts him hurts himhurts him. it barely registers that his breathing is restricted, but he feels his eyes hurting and his lungs creaking

his already weak chest rattles with each breath concrete daggers dig into the skin at his throat and threaten to slice to fucking kill him and dark eyes, just dark eyes they lock with smoke-filled ones

he can't fucking decide does he want to burn or does he want to bleed and there's words finally being hissed into the air

"you're not in control," smoke lea ves chapp ed lips and delsin inhales it through it nose and it burns everything just burns? delsin is just burning. "no, not here."

keys jangle outside and there's a beautiful voice singing a soft song. fetch is out there, coming in, and delsin grabs at this thing's arm and begs begs begs

"please kill me," he laughs, feeling the pads of fingers burn the skin at his throat. "do it before she comes in here. please, please, she can't see you. do it, please" smoke wisps up and obscures his view and he can't see fetch enter, but he can hear it and a bag falls and she shrieks

"what did you do?!"

delsin's hand is tight around his throat while the other shakes as it holds a wine bottle. "no, delsin, what the fuck did you do?! you're not-- no, delsin.."

he feels the burn of swallowed pills and the taste of alcohol rise in the back of his throat but he swallows it all down and grabs hastily at fetch's shorts. " let me fuckin g d ie plea se"

"no, i cant!!!" delsin grabs her cheek with a burning hand and feels tears on fetch's beautiful face

"selfish." he cries too, his grip cracking the neck of the wine bottle.

"you're so selfish"

and ffetch flals into his lap and cries about how sh e need s him she nee ds him sh enee Ds him hes t ir ed pleas eletme die

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

warm fingers wiggle in fetch's embrace, and he brings the pad of her index finger to his lips. gentle kisses turn to a wider smile, one with a less melancholy feel.

"what can i say? i drove 'em out of here and they still got the balls to host raids."

delsin pauses momentarily, stomach rolling with the thought. he was a firework. dangerous but still controlled. all at once, he was destructive and cautious. an oxymoron in itself. his voice is low. scratchy.. raspy.. 

                      "i was careful."

animalistic cries slipped from the kitten pulling a scowl from fetch, short lived but prominent. reggie probably wouldn’t remain, no but, they would think of something. eyes track fur as she moves about, trying to adjust to the new home.

fingers thread with his, abandoning food entirely because god he’s warmer and more important than food she’s not even hungry for. a quiet snort at his explanation— of course he was fuckin’ with the d.u.p again.

"an’ i though my inner hater was bad. good thing you were a little less destructive— she would’ve ended up like the dupes.”

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

Day 9 of 365 - Fall Out Boy, “Fame < Infamy”

i’m addicted to the way i feel when i think of you there’s too much green to feel blue

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

when he pulls off, reggie expresses her discomfort in the form of a yowl. a sad smile finds his face and he figures that he's not keeping the name. especially if the animal begins to show some of the came characteristics as his late brother. shaking hands reach the zipper to his hoodie, and it falls open.

the cat comes tumbling down, yet still lands on her feet. delsin decides to shed the layers, removing the vest and the hoodie at once. he's left in a semi-unbuttoned flannel, and he relaxes against the couch. he manages to fit himself between his girlfriend's legs.

                     "behind a dupe porta-potty. i was fuckin'                         one of their raids, and when it was over,                         found 'er. she followed me home."

she can’t help but smile into the kiss, and when she pulls back, there’s that lingering bit but she keeps it to herself. ankles cross and nimble fingers rip at french bread from the skeevy bakery down the street aways. she’s tempted to offer some to the kitten, but people food is not for animals—

reggie, huh? she gave a short smile before idly stirring dinner around.

       “…where’d you find it?”

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

after all,

  what are we supposed to do after we’ve fixed our mistakes?

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

Bio-Terrorist C O N D U I T

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

[leaves this blog and puts head in mordecai's bosom] goodnight im sleeping in my wifes boobs

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

fall out boy // dance, dance

Why don’t you show me a little bit of spine you’ve been saving for his mattress. I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me

[justathemetesterrr-blog]

he's been scared the entire walk home, that she would say no.. but when mama fetch agrees as long as he provides the money— and fuck, he'll find a way, the grin on his pale face only gets wider. he leans in,

planting a ginger kiss on her lips (even if she tasted like chowder.)

                            "thanks, babe. i was thinking i'd name it reggie."

she’s been sitting not on the couch, but on the back, bowl of chowder and bread between milky thighs—and spoon drops back into the half-eaten stew, and she sighs.

she could say no— no animals. but god he looks so happy, and what harm is one kitten.

      ” ya’ better have the dough to take care of her, D.”