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strangerhottotties · 2 years

Note

I just want you to know that the way you write Billy in Grease and Grunge is so hot it fused my brain. Totally support you taking a break! But damn, so excited to read more someday if it works for you. And congratulations on your beautiful wedding.

Grease and Grunge Part 3 - E.M and B.H.

THANK YOU AND MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU FOR YOUR WONDERFUL WORDS! YOU'VE BEEN SO PATIENT AND SUPPORTIVE THANK YOU! This was originally going to be Eddie, but for you specifically, anon. It's gonna be Billy.

Warnings: ANGST!!! PANIC ATTACKS, DEPICTIONS OF A CAR ACCIDENT, HOMESICKNESS, NIGHTMARES, HURT/COMFORT, CONFUSED READER, HYPERVENTALATION

The first thing you're aware of is the tightness in your chest. It's uncomfortable at first, for a brief moment of confusion. And then like a snake coiling around your heart and lungs, you're acutely aware that you are suffocating.

Your eyes snap open to the unfamiliar sight of a small cabin. Bathed in midnight blue, too dark to see much more than shapes of objects.

This was wrong. This felt so incredibly wrong. The kind of wrong where you feel like you'll hurl. The kind of wrong like that time your dad didn't stop driving as a truck hurdle down the median of the highway through snow. The kind of wrong like that filled you when the man flew from the driver's side window. The kind of wrong like when he got up and sprinted after the vehicle while it rolled. The kind of wrong like the fact that your dad never looked twice and kept driving like he didn't know. Like the fact that you couldn't even hear the terrible crash that was happening just forty feet to your left.

Why did your chest feel so tight? What was that creaky noise? What nightmare was this? You want to wake up.

The casting shadows of wind-blowing branches you were admiring just hours ago flutter across the splintered wood floors. The room is so hot. Why is the room so fucking hot? Your brain calls over the noise in your head. Sweat is streaking across your skin. Your acutely aware of the itching that has spread apart every part of your skin, like sweat had dried on you, but that'd be impossible. You were drenched with sweat.

With shaky legs, you crawl out of bed, desperate to get out of the room that all the air had disappeared from. The creaky noise is hissing out of your mouth you realize as your fingers fumble over the latch on the screen door. Gasping and wheezing to get any oxygen to your brain.

The door rattles beneath trembling fingers. You hiccup around an attempt to sob. The panic doesn't quit when the door opens finally.

Only the air still doesn't fill your lungs when you gasp on the front stoop. You reach for the railing and miss the first time as you stumble forward.

The sound of branches has your head snapping towards the free-standing bathrooms. You can't recall where you are and the unidentifiable figure that is silhouetted by the light behind it could anything. You wheeze harder as you hold the post of a railing.

The call of your name is a question. The figure was a person but the lack of oxygen is getting to you. Your chest burns. "Hey, what's happening? Are you drunk?" The figure calls, striding towards you before breaking into a jog. A man you can't see because the halogen light is shining from behind him.

You need help. Your lungs are screaming at you already. The snake is squeezing your heart as hard as it can and you can feel you heart beating so hard, fighting back in what feels like an impossible battle.

Reaching with one hand you stumble toward him. The man jerks forward fast as you approach, and you recognize him in the low moonlight.

Your ankle doesn't hold up to the clumsy first step of the stairs and you tense as you topple forward into Billy's desperate lunge. "How much did you fucking drink?" He sounds furious and your eyes snap to his, pain in the back of your eyes from straining to look into his. You can't see the blue in this dark. You reach for him, gasping for all the air. Why could he breathe fine? Where was your air.

"I can't..." you wheeze and pat your chest desperately. "Can't..." you attempt, and his eyes sharpen as the word 'breathe' seems to be too difficult.

It's Billy's face twisting into terror that you realize you're not dreaming, and you really couldn't breathe. "You can't breathe?" He demands as his hold tightens, his fingers digging into your back. "What happened? Oh, shit- baby, are you hurt?"

You nod at him and he's dragging you off the porch steps. Dread fills you as the irony isn't lost. His skin is hot and deep beneath your finger tips. His eyes are searching desperately across your skin. "Where?" You wheeze. Billy's grimace is deeply frustrated and horrified. He seemed just as scared and confused as you were. "Where?" You plead with a cracking voice and thumping the side of your fist to his chest.

"Where? Where are we?" You nod desperately and understanding suddenly flashes across his face. "Camp, were at camp. Right outside your cabin. Are the other girls in there?" You nod as he cups his hands around your face, swiping away tears that are beginning to bubble out of your eyes.

"Try your nose. Breathe through your nose." You attempt and are rewarded only with the whistling of blocked sinuses. A broken attempt at a sob has his face crumbling into despair.

The door to the cabin opens. "What's going on?" Nancy demands with a worried tone. You can't see her but Billy snaps to look at her.

"Did you not notice her like this!?'' He exclaims as he adjusts how he's kneeling so that he's right in front of you. You shakily reach for him. "She's fucking freezing!" No, you we're too hot, you want to say.

"I only woke up because I heard your voice!" Nancy immediately rushes forward to kneel on the other side of you. You reach of Billy still, needing him to protect you from whatever was happening.

"Did you guys take anything?"

"We went to bed hours ago!"

Billy levels his gaze with yours. "Did you take anything?" You shake your head at him and he grabs your hand, dragging it to the center of his chest.

You sob again, hating the dizziness in your head. "Okay, okay, baby," he murmurs, "you need to slow down. Just listen, yeah?" When you nod, still gasping for breath. "I know it's scary, feel my heart." Your eyes follow and you feel the pounding muscle bounding beneath his rib cage. "Feel my breath." You try to focus on the big deep breath that fills his chest, it almost feels like a taunt. The way his lungs so easily pull in what you can only taste.

"Give us space," he snaps as Nancy leans closer. She jerks back onto the top step.

He heaves a frustrated sigh and drops his ass into the dirt. There's ease to the way he manhandles you into his lap. He crushes you to his chest and in a funny way your chest feels looser than before, air rushing out of you. That semblance of relief has you digging your fingers into the meat of his shoulders, praying to a higher power that you can breathe again. "Breathe with me," he orders, pressing his wrinkled forehead against your, hard.

You try to match him, only holding your breath before gasping. His hands raise and tunnel into your hair. His blunt nails scrape your scalp lightly, firing off nerve endings. That stutters a breath into a low sob.

It takes several minutes of Billy continuing to hum soft words to you and rumble little praises in your ear. You fold against his chest.

Finally, air burns into your lungs with a full deep breath. Out rolls a sob and Billy is crushing you to him with a sigh of relief. "There it is! Fuck, keep breathing like that," he sighs with relief. You continue to sob into his neck loudly and wetly - taking the air to use greedily. Your nails are digging into his shoulders but his hands don't stop combing through you'd hair.

"Can you tell me what happened, huh, doll?"

You shake you're head back and forth furiously. "Don't know..." you tell him wetly. "Just wo-woke up and couldn't... couldn't breathe."

"Scared the shit out of me," he breathes in your ear. "C'mon, look at me." When you meet his eyes, your breath is hitching for an entirely different reason.

Billy is stunning. You forget this with how big of an asshole he can be. The side of his face is illuminated by the halogen light from the bathroom. His face is etched into a breathless worry, brows puckered as he heaves through parted lips. He's so beautiful it stops the panic for a moment.

The burning in your chest morphs. It duplicates and moves low in your gut. That feeling of safety that happened on Eddie's porch returns with it. The molten hot knowledge that Billy Hargrove was seated below you, cradled by your own thighs caring for you beyond measure was enough to rattle you to your core. You were frightened beyond reason for one fact only now.

Here, with his chest heaving beneath yours and his eyes meeting yours with an open vulnerability he'd never show anyone else, with Nancy seated just feet away, ignoring her. You're realizing something that sends utter panic through you.

You've fallen sickeningly hard and fast for the meanest boy you've ever met.

You don't understand his behavior at all. It's fucking confusing why he decided you of all people was the person he'd chase. The concept makes no sense. But here he's been, rescuing you twice now.

Here, cool demeanor shattered, Billy Hargrove is crumbled beneath you. And God, do you want to make him crumble in an entirely different way. You want to kiss him.

But the burning in your chest reminds you to breathe again and it's too hard to breathe through your nose. Snot and tears are sobering.

You gulp in air wipe at your eyes furiously, sobs slowing into hiccups.

He physically relaxes under you, hands sliding from your hair to take the place of your hands and thumb your tears from your eyes. "How does a walk sound?" He hums. "Probably got some energy to burn?"

You glance to Nancy who's sitting anxiously on the steps, arms tangled around her legs, knees tucked to her chest. She gives you a worried look and you glance back at Billy. "Yeah, okay," you murmur. The suggestion doesn't sound horrible.

Still shaking, you are helped to your feet. You don't miss Billy brushing the dirt off your ass. Nancy stands, and as Billy pulls you into his side, she watches you tetter off. The only communication is your expressions, worried for the other.

Billy's hand pulls your thoughts away as his fingers curl around your back to lead you on. Your socks are ruined as you're guided down a path towards the entrance of camp. It's a slow walk where you tilt into his side, bearing a lot of weight into the sturdiness of him.

Touching him was better than any dream. Becoming aware of the smell of his soap makes you realize that he must have been coming out of the showers when he confronted you.

The ghost of your nightmares are creeping up your throat with the taste of bile. It reminds you to stop peeling the wallpaper.

"Are you not wearing shoes?" Billy's voice startles you.

"No?" You reply and he frowns at you before sighing and looking around. "Let's go sit. I need a cigarette." He motions with a tilt of his head towards a rickety set of picnic tables by the front lobby. Your hiccups continue as he leads you on.

He offers you a hand to climb up onto the bench. Hesitation fills you for a moment but you listen, shakily crawling to sit. Billy remains standing for a moment before he withdraws his pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and you watch as he lights up. You press your hands into your lap, tucking them anxiously between your thighs.

When you sniff, glancing away from his intense glance, his lighter clicks shut. A finger lifts your chin and your forced to look into his narrowed eyes. It threatens to steal your very breath. And then his thumb is swiping a stray tear away as he drags on his cigarette. "Do you have a nightmare?"

You can't bare to look at him again. It makes you feel like a child, especially with how delicate he touches you.

"Figured," he grunts, "you're mad at me, again." Your eyes snap to him as he drops his hand and steps back.

"What?" Your voice breaks weakly. You clear your throat before trying again. "No, it's just... embarrassing." When he glances back at you, you cast your eyes down into your lap. "Having nightmares at this age."

"They happen to everyone," he replies quietly. "What was it about?"

You shrug and scratch at your wrist, fidgeting. Billy sighs, blowing smoke into the night air. You wish there was a light out here, so you could sneak looks at him. He moves, climbing up to sit beside you on the table.

"I get this reoccurring nightmare of drowning." Those words capture your attention. "Almost did when I was a kid. My mom used to take me surfing and I got pulled under. Passed out, I woke up on the beach with two cracked ribs and vomiting water. It's been a decade, still get them all the time and I wake up feeling everything all over again."

He continues puffing on his cigarette like he'd told you what the weather was supposed to be tomorrow.

You are quiet for a moment with him, listening to the crickets chirping. You shift on the bench, scooting so your knees are touching.

"It was my mom," you murmur to your lap. "She was trying to marry me off to Jason."

"Carver?" He snorts. You sniff, whiping at your face with the heel of you hand, wishing you had a tissue.

"Yeah, she's got my whole life mapped out for me... any little... misdirection I have..."

"Let me guess, she rips you a new one?" You nod solemnly. It's silent and then Billy chuckles to himself. "Guess I'd have a panic attack if I had a dream I had to marry Carver, too." He follows it up with another deep drag.

"I get nightmares a lot," you hum. "Some of them get pretty fucked up." Billy clocks his eye brow at you.

"Did you just say 'fuck'?" You crack a small smile at him.

"I'm not perfect, you know." Billy leans back on one of his hands, rib cage brushing your arm as he presses closer.

"You really are, you know." He says it so casually, but it rips the breath right out of you.

"Do you have a filter at all?" You groan and he smiles at you lazily.

"I mean it."

"You don't know me, Billy." He scoffs at you and drags again. He let's the smoke roll on his tongue before he puffs it put in the opposite direction of you.

"Here Comes The Sun is your favorite Beatles song," he spouts and you freeze. "You skip to it every chance you get but you prefer 70's music. You eat your food one thing at a time and don't like any touching on your plate. When you get nervous you pick at your nails. When you're reading, you scratch at your scalp like this." He lifts his hand and tunnels his fingers into your hair to mimic how you do it, slow little circles. You try to still your beating heart.

When he untangles his fingers from your hair, he lowers his hand to instead, rest on your knee. "I... I really like you," he admits, glancing ahead instead of at you. "You're a good girl," he hums, "I liked to tease you at first, yeah. It was cute watching you get all flustered but one day it just hit me, you know. You're too good for me." Silence falls again as he glances down at his hand on your knee.

"I thought to myself," his eyes meet yours in the dimly lit night, "That's the kind of girl you marry. And that night I drove you home..." your breath hitches at the mention of it. The first acknowledgment of the ordeal. "I got a taste," his breath is ghosting your neck when you twist away from his steely gaze, "fuck, I've never wanted anyone more in my life. You made me so fucking crazy, I promise you that. If all you want from me is a fuck, I'm here. If you need something more, I've got that, too." You gulp softly.

"Billy," you start, unsure of what to say, "I'm not going to choose between either of you," you sigh. "It would kill me to hurt either just because I can't control myself." He smiles at that, despite your words.

"Munson and I hashed it out tonight," he grunts.

"What?"

"A gentleman's competition."

You roll your eyes and groan. "For God's sake, Billy! I don't want fighting." He tucks the hair behind your ear, and it shouldn't have the calming effect that it does.

"Go on a date with me Friday."

"I came to camp to hang out with my friends-"

"And to get laid, Steve says."

"I'm gonna fucking kill him. Billy, please, please listen to me. I just want a fun summer, not more stress. Please don't fight over me." Billy is still undeterred by your rejection, leaning in close to your face.

"Can I have a pair of your panties too?" Your cheeks flame when he demands that and your jaw falls open.

"You're unbelievable," you whine. "Billy, I am forbidding it!"

"Do I at least get a kiss for rescuing you? Cause I can't imagine not being able to kiss you again." He teases, it steals you're breath. You blink a couple times up at him as he leans into your space.

"You're not gonna be mad if I'm talking to Eddie again then?"

"No," he promises. You narrow your eyes at him.

"Even if I kiss him, too?" He sucks a breath through his teeth, rolling his tongue across them before smiling bitterly at you.

"Just... not in front of me, please."

That's what does it. It bottoms your stomach out and your launching forward to seal your mouth on his. The taste of his cigarette still in his mouth and he doesn't hesitate to cradle your head to his.

His tongue delves past your lips the first moment he can and you moan. It's not rushed, despite how it starts. It's just as deep as it's ever been, because if his words are true, than like you - he can't get enough.

God, why does he have to be so good with his tongue? You wonder.

His fingers tunnel in your hair. He breathes deeply through his nose when he does, sighing into your mouth and the two of you stay like that for a little while. It almost feels like slow dancing, the creamy intimacy has you utterly melting against him.

There's no desperate edge.

Eventually, both of his hands are in your hair. "C'mere," he grunts at one point. He grasps your hand and drags you around him until your forced to crawl into his lap.

"Billy..." your warning is greeted by his amused smile. Your lower body has to be stopped when it cries for you to rock yourself down into his lap.

"Shut up and let me kiss you, doll." Your cheeks burn but you don't fight him as he drags you back down to his mouth. He quickly changes course though, mouth his way over your jaw and down your neck.

Time teeters back down to a crawl. You soak in the light drag of his teeth and the swipes of his tongue beneath his lips. A pinch makes you jump.

"Ow!" You whine as he chuckles against your neck. "Don't be mean," you scold him.

"Mhmm." He pats your lap and leans back to look at your neck. "Let me get you back to your cabin, yeah, Princess?"

"That's... a good idea," you reply, climbing out of his lap, acutely aware of how chilly your wet socks are.

"Wait," he tells you when you try to hop down, "your not walking without your shoes. Hop on," he insists and presses forward to offer you his back. You blink a couple times

"You don't have to-"

"Shut up and hop on, babe," you sigh and lean over his shoulder, twisting your arms around his neck. It's effortless for him to hitch you up his back and start the trek back.

"Billy?"

"Yeah?"

G+G Taglist: @music-is-all-i-need @devilcherryhot @hauntingtherosebush @simp4mullets @theelephantroom4 @dumbmarvelchick @your-local-rockstar-simp @holyfanficbooksgeek @shittypunkbarbeque @psychoticbirb @im-bout-to-pass-otut @sameyessblue @boopmedaddy @animeboystuff @santaatemypuppy @bdudette , @slutforbillyy

"Thank you..." the trek back is light. Billy let's you slide down on the front steps of the counter. He leaves you with a tender kiss on your head and shuffles off into the night as you shuffle back into the room. Nancy is waiting inside, seated on the edge of her bed.

"Hey, Nance. Did you wait up for me?" you whisper.

"Yeah, will you sleep with me? I want to know if you wake up like that again, okay?" She opens her arms and waves to you to come closer. It's welcomed and not confusing like it is with Billy. You crumble into her arms and the two of you fall asleep with the promise of talking in the morning. For now, you simply find comfort in the scent of her shampoo.

@blahblahblaj, @sunandmoonchild158, @lovinthesiz3 , @poisondragon , @blueberry-birdie , @xchichikunx, @briistrash , @imabadarsebardrd, @j1nxwastaken , @shinypeachkitten , @scoobydoopoo , @joyfulfxckery , @novativee , @be-gentle-with-my-potatos , @cythianokamaria, @imagininghim

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things #billy hargove smut #billy hargove x reader #asks #billy hargove imagine #grease and grunge #unedited

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fireinclined · 6 years

Photo

summer cassandra is finished!! i’m really proud of how this turned out, and how her new face looks.

the smaller version is under the cut!

#🌠 there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars. ( visage. )#🌠 a rooks original™ ( writing & graphics. )

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seizasa · 4 years

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V. tag dump 14/18

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hatad · 5 years

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tag drop .

#◭ / fools gold ( angelica teach ) .#◭ / youre writing lines about me ; romantic poetry ( esme cullen ) .#◭ / she drew silver linings of her own ( rosalind walker ) .#◭ / ill find comfort in my pain eraser ( jane margolis ) .#◭ / bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars ( rhiannon blackcrow ) .#◭ / hes the best at what he does and what he does isnt pretty ( franklin clinton ) .#◭ / youve handled tragedy ; surely you can handle tenderness ( shadow moon ) .

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heavenburdened · 5 years

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𝑎̀ 𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑒̀𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒̂𝑡 — 𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑟𝑒̂𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑒́𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑒́𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑙𝑎 𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑎̀ 𝑙𝑒̀𝑣𝑟𝑒 𝑑'𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒, 𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑥 𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑒́𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑙𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑑𝑒́𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒́𝑠, 𝑛𝑢𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑒́ 𝑞𝑢'𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑒𝑡 𝘩𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑐𝑠-𝑒𝑛-𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑙, 𝑙𝑎 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑟.

* ╰ TAG DROP : EDEN LOVEGROVE PARK . dedicated to kaoshq !! ❜ ───

* ╰ we rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should ❜ ── ( muse )

* ╰ he seems to me ⊹ a man overflowing ⊹ made entirely of love and loneliness and anxiety for the whole of humankind ❜ ── ( interactions )

* ╰ there he stood ⊹ bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars ❜ ─── ( visage )

* ╰ he craves the soothing balm of soft and beautiful melodies ❜ ─── ( music )

* ╰ one day he’ll understand that he too is made of light ❜ ─── ( ask memes and headcanons )

* ╰ show me a hero and i will write you a tragedy ❜ ─── ( edie talks ⊹ out of character )

#* ╰ we rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should ❜ ─── ( muse )#* ╰ there he stood ⊹ bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars ❜ ─── ( visage )#* ╰ he craves the soothing balm of soft and beautiful melodies ❜ ─── ( music )#* ╰ one day he’ll understand that he too is made of light ❜ ─── ( ask memes and headcanons )#* ╰ show me a hero and i will write you a tragedy ❜ ─── ( edie talks ⊹ out of character )#* ╰ he seems to me ⊹ a man overflowing ⊹ made entirely of love and loneliness and anxiety for the whole of humankind ❜ ── ( interactions )

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minscnmi · 5 years

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「tag drop」

#♡ – “ words dripping like honey. ” | conversations #♡ – “ troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match. ” | musings #♡ – “ bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars. ” | mirror #♡ – “ lips like stars; baring all the secrets of the universe. ” | phone #♡ – “ she always dances when it’s raining. ” | music #♡ – “ it started with a whisper. ” | writing #♡ – “ constellations of the things you left unsaid. ” | asks #♡ – “ are these golden hearts always heavy? ” | ooc

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siphoncursed · 1 year

Note

Dear

Lizzie

I wanted to write to you and your sister separately so you'd both have your own personal letter, a reminder that as twins you don't have to share absolutely everything. Though I am hoping they arrive at the same time.

Europe Is great but it's nothing like home, Mystic Falls and where ever you are will always be my home. Trust me sourcing blood over here is a nightmare, and I'm positive blood in America just tastes better.

I miss you so much, and I know you're probably thinking mom why didn't you just pick up the phone to tell us this, but I thought a letter was the most special way. Alongside a few postcards I've sent separately, just for fun.

This is more of something for you to keep, a reminder that no matter where we are in the world, I'm still so proud of you, I love you and I believe in you. Keep up the good work and I hope to be home soon.

Lots of love

MOM x

the blonde looks down at her mother's perfect handwriting, a soft yet sad smile playing on her lips. she understood that caroline had an important job to do when it came to recruiting for the school and college, it was crucial for them to always have new students available for the next academic year. and then looking for a way to stop the merge was another huge obstacle that resulted in her prolonged absence. lizzie holds the letter to her chest, feeling the all too familiar pang of loneliness as she reaches out to grab her phone so she could call her mother to thank her for the much needed letter.

#⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ writings. ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars.#⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ main. ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ you'll understand why storms are named after people.#multi royalty.#brb crying

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andromedxblxxck · 6 years

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tag drop!

#i: there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars.#c: to be soft is to be powerful.#q: i would drink the sky and inhale the stars if i could.#t: she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.#p: i write what i could never say.#d: to be written in ink is to be immortal.#a: better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie.

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bowieandqueen11 · 5 years

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Treehouse / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Request: hey darling! could i request a ben for it chapter 2 where they are together and it’s that scene where they all split up to get their memories back thing (if ygm) and the reader is made to see ben and bev and she thinks it’s real and ignores ben and he’s all confused and upset (soft boy) and she eventually just asks him why he did it and he reassures her it wasn’t real and he would never do that to her? thank you so much i love love LOVE your work!! one of my favourite writers ever!!

Dude stoppp you are too sweet you’re going to make me cry ;33

My blog is really dead at the moment so every interaction you’re able to give is seriously appreciated and tells me people want me to keep writing! <3

Stopping by the Quarry, you turn away from the rocky edge to look back up at the neverending cloudless sky.

The tree you glance over lifted its branches to the sky as if it very presence was enough to beat back the darkness and command the daylight to fall on his papery leaves. Its bark shone like the right kind of gold, the sort that inspires the mind to heady heights of imagination, opening doors to fantastical kingdoms.

Your heart had always ached to come back here. To come back for what you had left.

Waking up during early mornings as a kid, enchanted by the slight cool breeze as it skims the tip of your toes that are sticking out from underneath the blankets Ben had sneaked out of his aunt’s home had been heaven. As the air slides through the open holed windows your nostrils fill with the smell of wild flowers and bliss. Removing his arm gently from your waist, mornings before school used to be filled with nuzzling your nose against his forehead, stifling laughter as his gentle snores used to fill the treehouse.

When he had built it, Ben had told you that it was your place of make-believe away from the other Losers, a place your imaginations could fly. And yet, everything in that little wooden square always felt so real.

After Ben had told you that he loved you one quiet morning, whispering it against your cheek when you had slipped away from your house to spend the night with him there, just talking and holding hands and gazing up at the stars through the small hole in the ceiling, the two of you used to spend as much time as possible there.

The moonlight would splash down its watery white-silver glow, bathing the two of you as you rest your head back against Ben’s chest, laughing at the way his eyes flutter close at the sensation. In the distance the trees were silhouetted against the deep velvety Derry sky, but in here you reach up to brush a few wisps of hair out of his face as he starts mumbling, reading the book you had brought over to show him. He had run out of new ones to read in the library, so you had jumped at the chance to share your favourite book with him. In the morning, when the two of you wake up entangled with each other, Stan’s banging on the hatch door telling the two of you to ‘get up or we’ll all be late lovebirds’, you grab the book from the floor and stuff it in your bag without a second thought. It’s only when you’re in English class and knock it out of your bag when reaching from your textbook do you notice what he’s written inside.

‘My heart burns there too.’

Opening up the hatch, you almost sneeze at the amount of dust that swirls around your eyes and tickles your nose.

‘The book must still be here somewhere’, you murmur, reaching another arm in to pull yourself up from the broken ladder. It takes you a moment to hear the rustling noise in the darkness.

‘Pennywise?’

It takes you a moment to make out the face of your husband lying on the floor amongst the dirt. The kiss that followed came out of nowhere. All you could see were jagged shapes: his hand clasping gently into the back of Beverly’s fiery hair, pressing in softly. After a few seconds he broke away and smiled, ‘I just had to do that, even if it is only once. My heart has always burnt with you.’ The look on her face told you everything. The two of them lock eyes for just a moment, just enough for you to feel your heart crack in two. Then he’s all business, undoing her jeans, pulling them off, his hand beginning to land on her thigh, his touch feather-soft as it slowly rises upwards. Every kiss has a raw intensity, becoming rougher and rougher until you can’t look anymore, slamming the hatch down and jumping back onto the crunchy, dying grass of Derry’s abandoned Quarry.

You had gripped on so tightly to the edge of the entryway that your palms began to burn and your nails dug so far into the wood they began to bleed.

Suffering. That's how Ben always described had always described his loneliness before he had met you. Suffering. But it was worse. It was suffocating.

‘Do you remember this place? I’m amazed it’s still standing. Richie banged it up enough while we were young I was sure it would have collapsed by now.’

Ben laughed hoarsely before coughing, using his fist to try and cover half his cheeks, and with them, the rising blush that spread like wildfire over his light freckles as you stare down at the dirt

'Honey, why are you so quiet? What happened today? Was it Pennywise? I’m sorry we had to split up, but we’re so close to this all being over-’

‘Why have you always loved Beverly Marsh more than me? Why didn’t you just leave with her?’

He stops the hammock from swinging by sticking out one boot and sliding it until it left an indent in the dirt, his toes kicking against a bright red paddle ball that goes flying across the boards until it nestles in the dark cracks.

'Sweetheart, wh-what are you talking about? I don’t love Beverly. Sure, she was a good friend to me, to all the Losers, but love- no...no.’

‘I saw you two today. I saw you.’

‘Y/N I was at the school all day. I promise. You’re my wife, and I love you, and I would never do anything like that, something that could hurt you. You have to believe me.’

You couldn’t bare looking at his eyes as they glimmered with watery tears, feeling as if his whole world was about to crumble. The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face, the muscles of his chin trembling like a small child and I looks up towards the open sky, as if the light could soothe him. There is static in his head once more, the side effect of all the years he spent alone as a childhood: something he had prayed his whole life he would never have to experience before.

‘I’m not letting Pennywise tear us apart. He’s taken too many years from us, but not now. He can’t tear us apart now, I can’t do it-’

Grabbing your hand, he entangles it with his own, his knuckles white as you raise your left hand to splay against your husband’s back, rubbing tender and nonsense patterns against his muscles as you feel them shiver under your touch.

‘It’s okay Ben, I believe you.’

146 notes · View notes

writing-royza · 5 years

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Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Thirty-two - Declaration of Intent

A/N: Hey, everyone, and Happy… Monday. Sorry for the delay; my in-laws were coming for dinner yesterday and I felt the need to clean obsessively, and a busy week beforehand didn't leave much time to write. But hey, there's a chapter for this week and we're soooooo close to the end! It's gonna be good, so stay tuned. Enjoy!

I do not own FMA.

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Chapter Thirty-two - Declaration of Intent

UNINHABITED ZONE, JADAD, ISHVAL 0117 HOURS, APRIL 30

The massive open space had all the earmarks of a cave: darkness that lay thickest in the deepest corners, a dankness in the air and faint, occasional dropping that bespoke some water source nearby, a faint green cast to the meagre light that evoked imagery of algae and bioluminescent plants.

Lying over it all was the musty scent of decay, an earthy kind of stink reminiscent of wet dead leaves and loam that clogged his sense of smell the moment he came through the doors.

Pausing just inside, letting his eyes adjust, Kimblee slowly scoured the room for any sign of habitation. He stood in a kind of foyer, with one set of double doors closed behind him, and another set ahead, open into the huge atrium beyond. He stepped forward, taking care to make no noise, and emerged into the wide open space.

A wide walkway ran the perimeter of the room, surrounding a long rectangular depression in the floor. Steps led down into the shallow space at several points, the surfaces of both the walkway and sunken area tiled in squares of flat grey stone the size of his palm. At several points around the outside of the walkway stood open-topped braziers filled with smooth, fist-sized rocks, a basin and ladle mounted to the wall beside each one. Overhead, a multi-paned skylight twenty feet wide rose into a majestic dome that filtered moonlight down to provide a ghostly, ethereal light.

Ah, he thought, beginning to recognize the layout. A bathhouse. How archaically quaint….

He moved forward to the edge of the walkway, looking down into the empty pool. Water had recently flowed over the slate tiles, judging from their slightly damp appearance. The pool had likely been drained sometime in the last day or so, otherwise the vast space would smell dusty and dry, just like everything else in this forsaken landscape.

"I would think," he said to the room at large, "that since the Flame Alchemist can no longer use alchemy, his fear of water would have evaporated."

"Who said I was afraid?"

A silhouetted figure slinked out of an open archway on the far side of the long atrium, likely one that led to a change room. White clothing seemed to glow in the dark, the shadows falling away as Roy Mustang stepped forward into the light, moving with the purposeful grace of a pacing wolf. Deeply purple eyes glinted with challenge behind the fringe of his bangs.

"Long time, no see, Kimblee. But not nearly long enough for my money."

"Mustang." He said the name with the cold contempt of nobleman addressing a leper. "Our dear Riza had finally deemed you fit enough to come out and play, has she?"

He sensed the anger rolling off the other man even at this thirty-foot distance, anger that Mustang swiftly brought back to heel, damping it like the coals of a fire. "If only so that she doesn't have to look at your despicable face herself," he answered, his own tone cooling considerably. "After all that you've put her through, it should be understandable why she wouldn't want to see you again."

He laughed, a short, sharp bark that reverberated from the walls. "Please, she saw me less than a week ago and showed no inclination then of running off voluntarily. Of wanting her personal space, certainly, but not outright avoiding me." He grinned, showing his teeth. "She wouldn't dare leave her sire. Not permanently."

Mustang folded his arms across his chest, standing with his feet planted in a stance of defiance. "She would if she herself was mistress to someone who outweighs you in importance," he shot back. "And even before she turned me, I was more important to her than you can ever hope to be."

"It isn't a question of importance." Taking a step forward, Kimblee watched the other man tense, anticipating the oncoming fight. "It's a question of mastery."

"Something of which neither of you has when it comes to your emotions."

She emerged from the same archway, her blonde hair and white abaya ghostlike in the dimness. Where Mustang had moved with the wild intensity of a wolf, Hawkeye walked with the lithe, easy step of a panther. She slid a hand up his back to grasp his shoulder, her free hand rising to his chest as she stopped beside him, though her eyes remained fixed in Kimblee. "The first contact you have with your kind in days, and the first thing you do is get yourself baited into a dick-measuring contest? So much for a vampire's patience and self-control."

"You speak to me of self-control?" he countered. "When the two of you can hardly stand to keep your clothes on around each other for more than a few minutes at a time?" He eyed their pure white outfits critically. "And for the clothes themselves… was white really the best choice you could make? Creatures of the night ought to blend in with their surroundings, not stand out like beacons."

"Just because we drink people's blood and are the embodiment of anti-death doesn't mean we need to dress like we're going to a funeral every day," Roy countered. He tugged at the front of his knee-length dishdasha, the white fabric edged in gold embroidery. "And when a lady goes to the trouble of stealing me something so nice, it'd be a shame not to wear it."

"And when it gets covered in bloodstains from your prey?" Kimblee countered. "Or do you plan on stealing new wardrobe items whenever you need to?"

"Barring accidents, we eat far more neatly than you do," Riza answered, her voice carrying a note of distaste. "And we won't need to steal anything, before long. Everything we could want will brought to us in tribute when we claim dominion over the city."

Kimblee went still, his eyes narrowing as they rested on her utterly calm face. Dominion… tribute…? Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place. "Ah… so this is why you wanted to keep the citizenry as a sustainable food source. Why you wanted to grow your strength… why you've allowed me to come to you." His smile pulled his lips wide, the tips of his long canine teeth showing. "Your commander's ambition has rubbed off on you. It's not enough for you to merely stalk the nights of this city. You want to rule."

"Why not?" she countered, her right should shoulder rising and lowering in an insolent shrug. "It's ever so much easier to sustain yourself when you have servants to either bring the blood to you, or else just lie down and let you feed on them." She smirked. "No one refuses a queen."

He gave a soft snort. "I see. And in this delusion of grandeur, which of us is king? Mustang, or me?"

"Delusion or not, the answer remains the same." Rising slightly on her toes, she pressed a kiss to Mustang's jawline, then rested her head against his cheek as he turned a smug look on Kimblee. "He's always had the drive to assume leadership; all you've ever done is destroy. And I don't want half my subjects being vaporized before I even get a chance to call for my coronation."

"You're a loose cannon, Kimblee," Mustang said, with what was probably supposed to be an apologetic air. It sounded more… contemptuous. "There's no room in the new monarchy for someone like that; if the Queen dictates you're out, you'd best be out of the city by sunup."

Rage boiled in his stomach, working its way up his throat like bile. "You can't kick me out of this place," he growled, his vow low, and full of menace. "Without my influence, you'd still be living your boring, pathetic human lives, both of you. I made you the way you are, gave you strength, gave you power… and now you think you can turn aside from the destiny I created for you?"

He threw his head back and laughed, the eerie, madness-tinged sound reverberating from the tiled walls to ricochet around them. "Without me, you're nothing! I am the sire, and if anyone here is going to claim rule over these worthless sheep, it's me!"

Riza's voice was soft, but carried easily in the open space. "Big words for a prisoner."

It took him a heartbeat to realize what she had said, and another to formulate his question. But before he could do more than open his mouth, there was the sound of a door being flung wide behind him. The words 'what do you mean' died before they reached his lips, and he started to swivel toward the door.

At the same moment, both Mustang and Hawkeye streaked off in separate directions, elongating into bright white streaks to cover more ground. Kimblee whipped back around to them, looking first in Mustang's direction, then giving chase after Hawkeye. Whatever was happening, what trap they had so evidently sprung, she was his ultimate goal.

She materialized a few metres out from the far wall, turning to watch him speeding in her direction. He hadn't shifted into his long, ropy form, and he came at her with his hands outstretched, levelled at her neck. Her amethyst eyes were impassive, watching him close the distance, making no move to defend herself –

His hands hit some hard surface and his arms folded in toward his chest. Unable to slow his momentum, he cannoned face-first into an invisible wall, and rebounded to sprawl, stunned, on the damp tiles at the bottom of the empty bathing pool.

---------------

She watched with a sense of gratified smug superiority as Kimblee picked himself up from the bottom of the pool, spluttering in surprise and rising anger at the indignity of having been knocked flat on his ass by a wall he could not see. His purple eyes landed on her, narrowing at the broad smile on her face.

"What have you done?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing, echoing off the walls. He paced slowly across the tiles in her direction, ignoring Roy's quiet snickering behind him. "Tell me! I command it!"

"Feeling a little claustrophobic?" she taunted, not flinching as he approached, not backing down. "You shouldn't have to ask me what's going on. You've come up against a wall like this before." She reached out, tapping on the invisible barrier like a child with a fish tank. "And besides that… I'm not the one who actually did the trapping."

The scuff of a footstep on the tiles near the entrance brought Kimblee's head whipping around to glare at Scar, crouched low on the tiles in front of the final symbol he had just etched to seal it with Miles standing just behind him. The warrior glared right back, his right hand curling into a fist where it dangled from the arm resting across his leg.

Riza tapped the toes of her right foot beside the symbol nearest her, the mark only visible as a thin white scratch on the tile floor. "We had some concern whether or not you would notice the markings when you came in," she commented off-handedly. "If you had, our entire plan might have been derailed, so I appreciate you walking so willingly into your own downfall."

"Mine as well as your own," he snapped, turning back to her. "So this is your true plan, is it? A fool's errand if there ever was one. You know as well as I do that once I'm gone, your own powers will fade and you'll lose your abilities and vampire persona entirely."

Ah, the crux of the matter. This was the aspect of her personal plan that Riza had to play extremely carefully: hiding the fact that she and Roy had no intention of letting Kimblee be destroyed. They all wanted the old, boring Riza back, the one who loved her paperwork, her dog, her firearms, her boss… but unfortunately, that particular girl was gone, and her replacement was going to have a find a way to stick around. She and Roy had spoken with deliberate quiet when outlining their plan for dominance so that Scar and Miles, sneaking closer, wouldn't hear; hopefully, they hadn't.

"You win some, you lose some," she answered airily, as much to herself as to him.

Climbing to his feet, Scar glanced between the two vampires on his side of this little conflict. "That's the first circle. When should we close the second?"

"Not quite yet," Roy spoke up. "It's really just a backup in case he should break out of the first one, so if he starts showing signs of doing that, then go ahead." He stood with his hands in his pockets, regarding Kimblee with cool contempt. "Until then, let him stay in there and wait for sunrise."

"Sunrise?" Kimblee repeated, his face set in a suspicious glare.

"Sunrise," Roy confirmed, before pointing upward… the skylight directly over the centre of Kimblee's imprisoning circle. "That serves a double purpose. On the one hand, it brought light in so that anyone using the bathhouse wasn't doing so in total darkness. But on the other… it concentrates the sunlight so that it helped warm the water."

His eyes came back to Kimblee with fierce satisfaction. "Seeing as you can't run, or hide, you'll be incinerated like an ant under a magnifying glass."

Kimblee was still gazing upward at the object of his eventual destruction. "I see. You did this as a boy, I take it? Burned ants on the sidewalk for no other crime than carrying on with their nature?" A faint smile touched his lips. "Just as you would now burn me for following my nature. Rather hypocritical, isn't it? Given that you have the same nature yourself, now."

"Whether it's hypocritical or not is hardly up for debate," Riza cut in sharply. "I would think, given that you have only a few hours left on this earth, you'd like to spend it more productively than debating philosophy."

"Philosophy in itself is a worthwhile way to spend several hours," he countered, then shrugged, settling himself cross-legged directly under the skylight's apex. "But, have it your way."

Riza watched with barely concealed distaste as he closed his eyes, sitting straight with his hands in his lap, the very picture of peaceful meditation. She was aware of Roy glancing in her direction from across the circle, then beginning to move around the perimeter to where Scar and Miles stood, also watching. Pushing thoughts of the sire from her mind, she focussed instead on the rest of the plan, and started around the edge of the circle toward the others.

"We can recall the others from hiding, now, I think," Miles was saying as she arrived. "Now that we have him trapped, everyone should be on hand here in case something goes awry."

"Doesn't make much sense for them to be waiting about in the dark for someone who's already here," Roy agreed. "Go ahead and give the signal."

Miles moved back toward the open entrance of the bathhouse, stepping out onto the front stairs. Putting two fingers to his lips he gave two short, sharp, piercing whistles, and waited. Seconds later, there was an answering whistle, and he nodded in satisfaction. Neither he nor Scar showed any indication they knew what was really being planned… meaning the time was right to set it into action.

"In the meantime," Riza added, "perhaps we should seal the second circle." She looked doubtfully from the inner set of symbols to the outer. "Call me crazy, but something about this doesn't feel near as safe as it should be. Maybe it's some kind of vampire sixth sense, but… there's something about this that bothers me." She looked back to Scar. "I think I'd feel better if the second circle were sealed."

He watched her carefully, hesitating. "… You and the Colonel will be stuck inside if it is," he cautioned. "Is that something you want?"

She took a carefully choreographed deep breath, then nodded. "There's not much else for us to do. And if he does break out of the first circle, we're here to take him down physically."

Roy glanced over at her. "Would you feel even better if we checked the symbols around the edge of the first circle? If this is a legitimate vampire sense, that something's wrong, could be that's the trouble."

"Yeah, all right."

The two of them circled off in opposite directions, walking slowly with their eyes on the ground, studying each holy glyph etched into the tiles… or at least, pretending to. Riza half-watched out of the corner of her eye as Scar crouched, scratching the last, sealing symbol into the outer circle with the point of a ceremonial stone knife. The thing was tiny in his huge hand, but a weapon nonetheless she would have to rid him of if they wanted to have any kind of chance.

Her gaze switched to Roy, directly across the circle from her, and caught his eye. She gave the smallest of nods.

"Wait, hang on a second," he called a moment later, coming to a stop with a frown. "This one might be it. Looks like the symbol's all there, but its on a rougher piece of stone and the knife might've skipped over some of the bumps. The circle works, but this section might be a little weaker." He looked up. "Miles?"

The Major crossed the invisible barrier of the outer circle, his unadulterated humanity allowing him to do so. Riza kept her own eyes on the ground, moving slowly until she was another five feet along before coming to a stop.

"I've got one over here, too," she called. "Same sort of deal. Scar, could you come take a look?"

He, took, crossed the barrier with no trouble, checking the outer glyphs as he came toward her, just in case. Riza indicated her suspect symbol with a pointed finger, stepping aside to allow him closer to it. "That one, there," she lied. "Just a rougher piece of shale that would have been more difficult for the knife to scratch."

He went to one knee for a closer look, careful to keep his head back from crossing the inner barrier. Red eyes searched the pale white lines for any discrepancy. "I don't see what you —"

Her weight landed across his back before the sentence could finish leaving his mouth, knocking him off-balance. Throwing his hands out to catch himself on the tiles, he didn't waste breath asking just what the hell she thought she was doing; he could tell. The cord around his neck was pulled upward, the pouch rising to press against the underside of his chin. He thought, for a moment, that she meant to strangle him with the thing… but then the charm was yanked from around his neck and went flying off into a dark corner of the room.

Scar pushed to his feet, the vampiress dangling from his shoulders like a small child wanting a piggyback ride, and practically ran backward, slamming her back-first against the invisible barrier.

Riza's breath left her in an angry hiss, the warrior's wide shoulder blades digging into her ribs, but she held on. If her vampiric strength couldn't help her win against this musclebound stoic, then what good was it? From across the room came the sounds of Roy engaged in his own struggle, but she ignored it. Her fight was here.

Wrapping her arms around Scar's neck, she dragged herself higher on his back, gasping a breath, gripping with her knees and using his own pressure against her to keep herself in place. Hooking one arm around his neck, she grasped her wrist with her free hand and squeezed, focussing on trying to compress the two arteries either side.

Bet Armstrong wishes he hadn't taught Riza all those holds when he finds out about this, she thought grimly, gritting her teeth as Scar's neck muscles tightened, trying to fight the sleeper hold. She retaliated, snugging her arm tighter around his neck. In a last-ditch effort, Scar abruptly pulled away from the wall, turned ninety degrees, and dropped flat to his back, trapping her beneath him.

The air rushed out of her lungs once again, but she kept her grip against the 200-plus pounds of muscle bearing down on her. Her lungs burned, her body needing air even at the reduced rate caused by the vampirism. She just had to stick it out a little longer… just a little longer….

Finally, she felt the great body go slack.

Riza gave it another thirty-count in her head to make sure he was well and truly out, then shoved him to the side and sprang up, ready to defend herself if he was playing possum and came after her. Scar lay still, breathing shallowly, but clearly unconscious. With a hunter's pride in victory swelling her chest, Riza turned to where Roy was just stepping back from where Miles lay limply on the ground, his hands raised in a boxer's stance.

"Is he out?"

The former alchemist looked up, flashing a triumphant grin. "I clocked him on the jaw and he went down like a sack of bricks," he reported. "I'd call this half of things a success."

Kimblee had opened his eyes when the scuffling began, and now sat watching the two of them with curiosity, his head moving back and forth. "Just what are you two up to?"

"Nothing that'll work if you don't keep your trap shut," Riza snapped. "Just sit there and don't move, will you? We're trying to figure this so that all of us might survive tonight, so just let us work!"

Bending, she caught hold of one of Scar's thick wrists, beginning the arduous task of dragging him to the far side of the circle, away from where the rest of the vampire-hunting crew would be coming through the entrance. Her sharp hearing began to pick up faint sounds of conversation, the occasional sand-shuffling footstep, and she redoubled her efforts.

When the group came through the front entrance two minutes later, she and Roy were standing over the two unconscious Ishvalan men, both of them bound with their own waist sashes, ready and waiting.

---------------

ABANDONED BATHHOUSE, JADAD, ISVHAL 0158 HOURS, APRIL 30

Rebecca hesitated on coming through the doorway, stopping just at the edge of the second circle of markings. In the centre, looking calm and unearthly as he sat bathed in a shaft of moonlight, was Kimblee… though a very different Kimblee than her own faint memory. He was ghastly pale, the effect strengthened by his dark suit and hair, his long, white fingers folded meditatively in his lap. His eyes watched her with bland disinterest, as though she were nothing more than a pigeon crossing his path.

Behind him, slumped together in a two-person pile of apparent unconsciousness, were Scar and Miles. Her heart jumped in alarm at the thought that Kimblee must have gotten to them before he had been contained… and then she saw Mustang and Riza.

The Colonel was standing with his arms folded and legs spread, watching the group enter with all the solemn menace of a bouncer at a nightclub. His eyes shone a faint, dark purple in the reflected moonlight behind the half-curtain of his bangs, and he stood with an impossibly perfect stillness that betrayed his current preternatural state.

But it was Riza that made her shiver.

She stood with her hands folded demurely in front of her, watching the group enter with quiet aloofness; a royal duchess watching her guests enter for a party. Glacially calm, she glanced from one to the next with only the motion of her eyes, not turning her head in the slightest, not acknowledging the two men at her feet, her superior in the place of deference behind her left shoulder, or the vampire imprisoned before her.

Rebecca swallowed hard as those cold amethyst eyes landed on her, feeling a chill start to spread outward from the pit of her stomach as Riza smiled. In all the years she had known the other woman, a full smile had been rare, and a smile that showed teeth had happened maybe twice. Now, for the first time, she wished her friend — or the thing that occupied her friend's body — would never smile again. She simply didn't want to see those teeth.

"Welcome back," the female vampire — Hawkeye, Rebecca corrected in her head — purred. She raised one hand, gesturing to her prisoner. "I'm sure you all remember this face. Former State alchemist and federal prisoner Solf J. Kimblee, current vampire sire." She smiled again, and Rebecca fought the urge to shiver again. "Even more current prisoner."

"So the plan worked," Breda commented, though Rebecca could hear the note of trepidation in his voice. "Good. What happened to Scar and Miles? Did he —"

"Oh, no. Not at all." Folding her hands again, she gave him a knowing smirk. "They're merely necessary for the next stage of the plan, and we needed some way to keep them under our thumb until that part was over."

"Wasn't the next stage of the plan to wait for daylight to weaken Kimblee enough that we could… remove him?" Falman asked, more than a little hesitantly.

"That was your plan," Hawkeye corrected, sounding for all the world like a schoolteacher lecturing a particularly dense pupil. "My plan was to trap Kimblee here and then simply leave him trapped so that I can carry on in the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed."

"Your plan?" Mustang echoed, sounding slightly reproving.

"Oh, sorry, love." Turning, she reached back and patted him on the arm. "Our plan, not just mine. And so that we can carry on our lifestyle. I'm sorry, I just got caught up in the thrill of the moment."

"Wait, what did she call him?" Fuery whispered, sounding vaguely scandalized.

"Forget that," Rebecca muttered back. "What the hell is she talking about? 'Their plan?'"

Hawkeye's head whipped back around at that, and she stood still a moment, like a spooked deer listening for further sound. When no one spoke, she turned fully to face the group. "I'm sorry, this must be so confusing for all of you," she said, her tone conveying no trace of true apology. "Listen, I know this is probably going to throw a wrench into things, but… the plan you all thought we were following has changed."

"Changed how?" Armstrong asked, his blue eyes wary and suspicious above his moustache.

"Changed in that instead of destroying Kimblee to free us from the so-called 'vampire curse,'" Mustang chimed in, "we'll instead be shutting him away in some dark little corner and keeping our vampire forms."

"You know how sometimes, people go on vacation to a new place, and they find they really like it, so they buy a summer house? That's kind of like what this is," Hawkeye explained. "We've decided we really like having control over human bodies, despite the whole 'can't be in daylight' and 'have to drink blood' parts. And, just like any other sentient creature…" Her eyes hardened. "We'll fight to stay alive."

"You can't do that," Rebecca burst out, immediately regretting the probably futile words. "You stole those bodies; you don't get a say in whether you get to stay in them or not."

The blonde woman snorted derisively. "What, and you do? Listen, sister, the only two people who could possibly stand a chance at knocking me out of control of this body are right here." She placed a foot on Scar's shoulder where he lay, just beginning to stir, on the ground in front of her. "And they're a little… tied up, at the moment."

Red eyes cracked open, and the scarred man visibly tested his bonds as he lay on his side, glancing at the group standing several feet away, the vampire still imprisoned in the centre of the room, and finally at the one looming over him. "…What have you done, witch?" he growled, rolling onto his back to see her more clearly.

"Vampire," she corrected, almost off-handedly "And the only thing I've done is ensure my own safety. Riza remembers you being something of a spectacle with those arms of yours, and while I doubt you'd go so far as to explode my — and by extension, her — head, you could very likely still cause some damage." Bending, she patted his cheek with a beatific smile. "Now, just lie still, and I won't have to choke you out again. Fair?"

She didn't wait for an answer, standing straight. "The rest of you, if you would be so kind as to separate out of that little knot you've got yourselves in, and stand at least four feet apart around the room." When nobody moved, her calm expression dissolved into a fang-baring snarl. "I said move."

Slowly, carefully, the five remaining members of the vampire hunting team began to spread out along the front wall of the atrium, no one taking their eyes off of Hawkeye or Mustang. The two of them were as alert as a pair of guard dogs, and probably twice as bloodthirsty, given the chance.

Literally bloodthirsty, Rebecca thought, suppressing another shudder. Best that we play along for now, and look for an opening later.

"Just what are you hoping to accomplish here?" Armstrong asked, his rumbling bass voice echoing off the tiled walls. Hawkeye's eyes shot in his direction, and her lips curved, but he kept speaking. "Are you hoping to take on all of us? Restrain us like you have Scar and Miles? Or something more… permanent?"

Her earlier ire was gone now, replaced with a look of motherly fondness so sickly sweet that it had to be fake. "Oh, Alex, you don't need to worry," she soothed. "We're not going to harm so much as a hair on any of you… unless you give us reason to. And in that case, I think it'd be fair to call it self-defense, don't you?

"As for what we're planning — Miles, please stop squirming, it's distracting." At her feet, Miles, who had been shifting slightly as he regained consciousness, went extremely still as Mustang leaned warningly over him, holding a finger to his lips for quiet. "As for what we're planning, it's all very simple. I'm hoping that in as little as two days from now, we will have secured our rule over this city, its citizens, and any other refugees that arrive looking to find shelter here."

"Your plan… is to declare yourself ruler over the Ishvalan remnant?" Falman clarified, sounding stunned.

"They'll never go for it," Breda added, frowning deeply. "Even if you weren't trying to take over by force, you're still outsiders. They'd never accept you as a leader even if you were human."

"Who said anything about force?" Mustang said casually. "The only force we've used in this takeover so far is to subdue two people who stood the most likely chance of stopping us before we began. Now that the path is relatively clear, however…." He stepped forward, sliding one arm possessively around Hawkeye's waist, sending a smirk to his shocked former subordinates. "We'll be approaching the Ishvalan leadership tomorrow night to inform them of the change in hierarchy."

Shaking his head, all Fuery could manage was a baffled-sounding "Why?!"

"It's case of symbiosis," the vampire explained patiently. "We need blood on a regular basis in order to thrive. The Ishvalans need someone to rule to guide them through the reconstruction and into the future where they can also thrive. So, in equivalent exchange, they will provide us with blood — which we will take very carefully so as not to turn or kill anyone — and we will promise to be good, benevolent rulers and help them grow back into the prosperous nation they were before the civil war." He grinned. "Everybody wins."

"You think you can just unilaterally declare yourself King and Queen of the Ishvalan people?" Miles snapped from his place on the floor. "Even before your country annexed ours, we never had royalty."

"Yeah, well, you do now," Hawkeye retaliated calmly. Her eyes turned to the row of people in front of her. "Now, what do you do when you're before the Queen?"

For several long, terrible seconds of dead silence, no one moved. Rebecca could feel her heart pounding in her throat, partly out of fear, but mostly out of shock. Things had gone so drastically sideways in such a short amount of time. We never should have agreed to work with them, she thought bleakly. We thought that we could handle any hidden agenda they might have… but I guess we were wrong….

The battle on the Promised Day seemed small and insignificant in the face of this personal battle of wills. It went against everything she felt to submit to these two strange creatures… but defiance would only earn her injuries or worse. This was not a situation Rebecca Catalina, firearms specialist, could fight her way out of with a gun. Armstrong's muscles might help, but he wouldn't be able to bring himself to fight two former friends. Falman's memory, Breda's brains, Fuery's technological know-how…. All of it was useless in this moment. They would have to bide their time, wait for an opening. And to get a chance at that opening….

What did one do when they were before the Queen? They bowed.

Rebecca sank slowly, cautiously to one knee, her gaze on the tiled floor in front of her. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, the others' heads turn to stare… before they reluctantly did the same.

When she looked up, the smile on the vampiress's face confirmed a dread fear: the Riza she knew had no say in this. Her friend was terribly, conspicuously absent.

#fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza #royai #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #tainted blood

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the-everlasting-dream · 6 years

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The Easiest Thing In The World - Dallas x MC

Summary: Dallas has been through some hard stuff and what shouldn’t be, suddenly becomes the easiest thing in the world.

A/N: Idk what compelled me to write this but I felt i had to after the latest chapter of BSC. I dont even like cowboy stuff so I have no idea where all of this came from. No one asked but idc this had to be done.

Word Count: 2200 (this was supposed to be 500 words!)

Warnings: None.

Tags: @choicessa , @meeraaverywalker , @drakewalkerwhipped , @quartzandarrow , @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @littleblossom-18 , @ooo-barff-ooo

Running takes a lot of guts, a ton of fear and a dash of luck to be exact.

Dallas James knew that well.

Leaving hadn’t been easy. Leaving his mama, his friends, his whole life back in Tulsa and everything he knew because some jackass with attachment issues didn’t know when to quit. He’d been happy with Alex. They had that good old fashioned romance that played on Grandpa Wilbur’s worn out records that'd play on the brass gramophone when he'd coax to life every Saturday afternoon as he’d sit on the front porch watching the kids play jump rope. Alex was a good girl, pretty too, with that kind of smile that just warmed you up from the inside every time she looked at you. Dallas thought he was gonna marry her, he did. Heck he would have married her and by now they’d have given his mama at least two grand babies to chase round the house for bath time.

Dallas was a God-fearing man, like his mama had drilled into him since he’d been in diapers. But he couldn’t understand for the life of him, why God put men like Leeroy Davis on this earth. With a permanent sneer on his face and a shiny Glock glued from his belt, the star quarterback strutted around like he owned the place, doing whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted with a bunch of cronies worshipping the ground he walked on. That’s what you get when your daddy was the head council man and owned half the businesses in town.

Dallas couldn’t imagine how someone as sweet as Alex could have ever been with a jerk like that. He’d asked her once and she admitted she thought she saw something different that no one else did and she was determined he could change, determined to prove everyone wrong and show them that there was a good side to Leeroy Davis. Alex’s heart was always too big for her own good and thats blinded her to Leeroy's emotional manipulation. They’d been over for almost a year before Dallas had worked up the courage to ask her out and she’d agreed to see a movie with him at their local community theatre. He remembered neither hide nor hair of that film, he’d spent the whole time watching Alex instead, fascinated by how keenly she felt everything and how openly it showed on her face. By the time the credits were over, he knew he was smitten and by some miracle, she agreed to a second date and a third and a fourth.

He remembered the last time he’d seen her, dark hair tangled by the wind, tears pouring down those rose cheeks of hers, big eyes urging him to go, to take the best shot at escaping Leeroy and the jail sentence he’d placed over his head, while simultaneously she also pleaded with him to stay. She held his sobbing mama close, silently promising she’d take care of her and that last image, a final look thrown over his shoulder haunted him every day he was away.

Leaving sure as hell wasn’t easy but life on the run hadn’t been easier. He learned keep his mouth shut, not to ask questions and take work where he could find it. Doing odd jobs for almost no pay, picking up slack where they needed him to, he was never in one place long enough to get attached. Each place he’d been, he’d been treated with caution, kept at arms length, never trusted with anything other than manual labour. He was a black man in Midwestern America, it was nothing he wasn’t used to but that didn’t make it any easier. It wasn’t easy but he managed.

By the time he’d worked his way up to Montana, he’d been in more places that he could have counted and it was only by some miracle that the Oakleys had taken him on as a desperately needed farm hand. They were more than happy to take on someone who would work for the meagre rate they were offering. Dallas didn’t mind, work was work and as long as he had a roof over his head and something in his belly at night, it was enough. Cliff and his boys didn’t ask about his past and Dallas didn’t share. It worked that way and for a few months he was content. Not happy, just content. Sawyer was nice enough, Duke was tolerable, Cliff was, well, Cliff but together they had a lot of heart, something he’d missed since Tulsa. In the back of his mind, he knew he’d have to leave soon and it was the most sorry he’d been to leave. He’d been on the run from a past that would eventually catch up to him. He also knew that the further he ran, the sooner he’d run out of places to run to.

In fact, he'd been gearing himself up to break the news to Cliff that he was leaving when Jo went over to the Mendozas and he found himself needed more than anything. Sure Sawyer knew the farm like the back of his hand, Curly could handle the mechanics even Duke could hold his own with the herd with Cliff there to oversee everything but Dallas knew that losing him would be a huge blow to the Oakleys. He couldn’t in good conscience leave like that. Even with that city slicker, Dominique, whom Sawyer had picked off the side of the road, helping out, it still wouldn’t be enough.

Dominique was something else however. When he’d first rescued her from trampling Bessie, Dallas had given her two days before she was out of there, screaming for sparkling water, ducted air conditioning and a toilet that flushed without you thumping on it a few times. With a name as pretentious as that, he’d dismissed her immediately, being quite rude, almost hoping to put her off but she’d pushed back. She’d proved him wrong over and over through stubborn persistence or sheer volume of luck, he couldn’t quite comprehend how but there was no denying that the perfumed manicured city girl had cleaned out cow pads next to him, despite the risk of getting hay in her perfectly dyed brown blonde ombre locks. She hiked the Lonely Pine Trail — a hike not known for its easiness — with them all as per Cliff’s request without a single complaint. Wherever she was from, they were certainly made of harder stuff than he’d first assumed. Dallas had glanced over at her, taking in the lush scenery and the look of wonder on her face almost brought a smile to his own.

Smiling never came as easily as it did since Alex anymore. More important things like looking over his shoulder, avoiding the cops, landing a stable enough job had taken priority but he’d found his lips curving up more times in these last few days since he’d left Tulsa. There was something about her, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but she radiated a hopefulness that he hadn’t felt since Alex. For so long he’d abandoned any thought of a future other than one on the run that he’d failed to see the possibility that existed in the spaces in between. Dominique brought a fresh perspective to everything, a different mindset and viewpoint than the rest of them and perhaps it was part of her charm but Dallas caught himself looking forward to seeing her around.

It was when they had made camp for the night and everyone was laughing at Juliette’s latest antics that Dallas realised how easy this suddenly felt. He watched as Broolynne frantically waved the flaming marshmallow she’d been roasting while Asha’s brother Miles scurried to prepare another one for her as Duke and Sawyer watched on in interest, half listening to Juliette’s ramblings. Dominique was listening with rapt attention, her every emotion playing out on her face and he almost smiled at the sight. For a moment, there was no weight of a potential jail sentence hanging over his head, no risk of being discovered just a few friends hanging out around the campfire at night.

That’s when it hit him. This wasn’t a permanent reality. Leeroy Davis was still hackling for his head out there, his poor mama probably worried sick that he hadn’t written in ages and Alex… he didn’t know what to think about Alex…

Not wanting to ruin the mood with the scowl on his face, he’d slipped off for a walk to try clear his head before realising he’d been followed.

Dominique.

Dallas wasn’t surprised that she’d come after him, she seemed to be great at reading people, far better than he ever would be. He was surprised however at how easily they fell into step together, walking quietly, the only sound being the leaves and twigs crackling gently underfoot. He tried to keep his thoughts on track, his current rumination being how soon he could move on from Oakley ranch after surpassing his usual five month timeframe. Cliff’s condition and the financial situation hung in the balance leaving a great many factors unaccounted fo-

Dominique’s hand had slipped into his at that point, derailing his train of thought, bringing him back to the present.

‘You okay?’

After she’d hesitantly affirmed it, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze to reassure her. Not long later, they reached a small cliff over looking a huge lake lined with trees silhouetted against the brilliance of the night sky. The last light of day could be seen peaking over the horizon and above them, a crescent moon hung amid the glittering stars, spilling soft light onto the water below.

‘Its so beautiful,’ Dominique breathed as they took a seat, legs dangling over the precipice as they looked out at the scene.

‘Yeah…,’ he agreed, his eyes on her and the way the moonlight reflected off her dark hair. ‘Beautiful.’

She glanced over, blushing when she realised he was already looking at her before doing what she always did, guiding them into an light conversation that immediately set him at ease. Dallas was just beginning to enjoy himself when he caught himself too late replying with a vague comment that definitely piqued her curiosity. He should have realised she wouldn’t have let him get away with it and as she waited for his response, he raked a doubtful glance over her. He knew that spilling all his secrets to some newcomer was a bad decision, it formed an attachment, the last thing he needed right now, with thoughts of moving on and all. But her green eyes compelled him and he eventually gave in.

Sighing, Dallas related the real reason for leaving Tulsa and bringing up Alex was as painful as he’d predicted. He’d been holding on to it for so long, hiding it away in the deepest part of his heart and now bringing everything to the light was just such a relief. He found himself revealing all the details about his biggest secrets to a girl he’d barely known for two weeks. There was no logic in it but once he started talking, it felt kind of cathartic to finally share the burden with someone else. He kept his eyes on one patch of grass inching its way between the boulders they were sitting on as he talked, not wanting to meet Dominique’s gaze until he finished his story with edge to his voice.

Her eyes were filled with empathy and concern when he finally looked at her. ‘I’m sorry Dallas. I wish there was something I could do to help.’

He should have recognised her willingness and generosity to want to help out even if she’d barely known him but he was feeling too jaded to notice, leaning back to stare out at the lake for a long moment.

‘Thanks for telling me…’ She put in after a long moment. He simply nodded, not trusting his voice but recognised her empathetic tone.

Sharing so much wasn’t in his nature and after basically baring his soul to her, Dallas knew needed something to smoothen the mood so he produced his harmonica, the one his mama’d given to him when he was young. He hadn’t played in years — he’d had no reason to — yet he kept it with him all the time. Soon enough he was telling her about his dream to be a singer. His mama had had the music in her and she passed that down to him.

Dominique’s rapt interest was more entertaining than anything he’d ever witnessed, the way her face lit up when he announced he’d sing her the song he’d written and how her expressions changed with the lyrics. He never took his eyes off her, wondering how in the world a random girl from the side of the road had gotten him to open up like he’d never had with anyone else before. He didn’t know how and he could’t begin to guess how she made everything in his crazy, mess of a life seem so easy…

‘You’re something else, Dominique,’ he told her, unable to find words to properly express himself.

A grin grew on her features and as if by some magnetic force, Dallas found himself leaning in closer, the strange desire to kiss her on his mind. And when she leaned into him, a part of him hesitated a little, reminding him of his past again, who he was and all he risked by getting attached, but when her soft lips met his, kissing her back suddenly was the easiest thing in the world...

#dallas x mc #dallas james #big sky country #choices bsc #sawyer oakley #duke oakley #brooklynne oakley #juliette mendoza #bsc miles #choices #playchoices #choices fandom #choices fanfiction

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temporaryblogname666 · 3 years

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Bloodborne (2015)

Released 24 March 2015

Steeped thoroughly in gothic horror imagery, Bloodborne is a beautiful video game. Vignettes are created so that the moon is always looming, pale moonlight bathing scenes of arched windows, buttresses, and spires, this game uses imagery to convey an otherworldly atmosphere.

I have, unsurprisingly, a lot to say about the imagery of this game; I wanted to write about it in my dissertation, but my verbosity pushed me over the 10% give in the word count before I even touched it, thus it is relegated to this blog post.

As with most video games, the best showcase of the game from an artistic perspective is in the concept art book. They are true to game, and have the bonus of the ability to be looked at without the hazard of being attacked by a gang of angry villagers.

The architecture is in a beautiful gothic style, and the artists in fact did a tour of Europe gathering inspiration for the buildings. The buildings are dark, either from dark stone, as with the main buildings of Yharnam, or age and neglect, as with Byrgenwerth University, which was clearly once a grand white building, and their darkness silhouetted against pale moons creates a beautifully atmospheric environment to explore.

The creatures in this game are also wonderfully designed and rendered in the art book.

They are entirely unlike any animal on earth, having spindly limbs and tentacle-like protrusions. They are giant, dwarfing the humans, and loom everywhere, watching as you fight through crowds of enemies.

This game has been a huge artistic inspiration for me, not in style, but in content. Weird creatures and sharp cityscapes against bright moons are all things I enjoy using in my art, and Bloodborne is a game that has been vital to my direction as an artist, and sparked my initial interest in Lovecraft in general; being a game which is massively, unashamedly inspired by his work.

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museinspo · 7 years

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*.:｡♦ ⋅ ⋆ — MUSING TAGS - QUOTE EDITION

i recently hit a huge milestone & reached the 2nd birthday for this blog, so i wanted to do something cute to give back & say thank you !!! with that being said, under the cut you’ll find 828 quotes that can be used for character musing tags ! they’ve been categorised into different labels ( eg. the baby doll, the lothario, the vixen, the cataclysmic, etc ) so some quotes may appear under more than one category. i do, however, recommend checking out all the categories !! they were just listed by my own interpretation and definitely aren’t limited to a certain label in the slightest. the pronouns used are simply what was used in the original line but can obviously be changed to fit your character. depending on personal preference, some may be a little too long but can be shortened down pretty easily. a general trigger warning is to be placed for these as they do reference some sensitive topics ( drugs, alcohol, sex, etc ), as the tags on my blog do. i believe that covers it all !! if you find this useful, please do like and/or reblog ! also, please let me know if you’d like to see a part two of this ! you can find the lyric version of this right here for more suggestions !!

general (31)

better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie.

he is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t lived yet.

she drew silver linings of her own.

like art she was beautiful but like art she was also complex.

my mother looks at me and sees my father’s mistakes.

desire is the kind of thing that eats you and leaves you starving.

she was brave and strong and broken all at once.

i am the sea and nobody owns me.

your sweetness is more cruel than your hurt.

she looks like royalty ; so fine and distinctive.

compare me not to stars but to storms and hurricanes.

fuck your soft words because i am not soft.

love breaks my bones and i laugh.

sipping cool red wine out of a long-stemmed glass.

chain smoking tastes like 50′s perfume if you try hard enough.

she crunches diamonds between her teeth.

in this world that kills beauty ; even gods cannot survive the fall.

it inspires a keen nostalgia in her for the simpler times before.

friends and family filled with envy when they should be filled with pride.

my first love was an insignificant boy when it should’ve been myself.

he flew darling. he may have fallen ; but first he dared to soar.

take the weight of your insecurities and lay them underneath a gravestone.

you have your fathers mouth and dreams of ripping it off your face.

you lie to erase the memories from your naked body.

i’ve kept my feelings to myself for i’ve never found a language to express them.

you drink a little too much and go home alone.

the most beautiful of angels are destined to fall.

his biggest fear is ending up like his father.

she was restless in a way that seemed permanent.

i am mine before i am ever anyone else’s.

she isn’t human ; she is art with a heart.

the addictive (9)

i used to smoke to get high ; now i smoke to stay sane.

you drink like you have something to forget.

his fingers flash with jeweled rings when he waves them ; dealing drugs out of his pocket.

he spends his nights drinking jack and smoking weed.

i’ve got whisky with white lies and smoke in my lungs.

i’ll find comfort in my pain eraser.

oh baby you’ve made mistakes and drained the bottles.

the addictions that were killing me faster are the ones i loved the most.

you drink a little too much and go home alone.

the aesthete (21)

she had lavender in her hair and roses on her cheek.

she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.

like art she was beautiful but like art she was also complex.

he craves the balm of beautiful and soft things.

there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars.

he was vulnerable ; to art and to the sky.

her aura is made of poetry, roses and galaxies.

to be written in ink is to be immortal.

seduce me ; ravish me with your words and poems.

he’s made up of silk and rose water.

everything has beauty but not everyone can see it.

let me tell you about the birds and the bees ; the moon and the stars.

like artwork i could admire you forever.

getting drunk on honeyed water with berry stained lips.

she’s dreaming of lace trimmed dresses and warm pink cheeks.

he wanted to be extraordinary to possess a savage glitter.

his trouble is that he falls in love with every pretty thing.

one day he realised he was made of light.

she wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes.

he falls in love with details.

he’s always had a terrible weakness for beautiful things.

the anthomaniac (16)

she had lavender in her hair and roses on her cheek.

i need the empty field around me and my legs pounding along roads.

she longed to go far into the fields and listen to the birds.

he sits before flowers hoping they’ll teach him the art of opening up.

barefoot in grass and drinking fresh lemonade.

she was made of sunlight.

the earth laughs in flowers as does he.

she wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes.

she spent hours on the riverbank and had midnight swims.

i need the empty fields around me and my legs pounding along roads.

sensitive souls don’t have it easy ; that’s why their eyes light up when they breathe in the scent of a flower.

nature is not a place to visit ; it is home.

i have nature and art ; is that not enough?

he has a garden and a library ; that’s everything he needs.

for me ; beauty is first and foremost in nature.

there’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.

the artisan (28)

seduce me ; ravish me with your words and poems.

underestimate me so i can embarrass you.

she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.

rule #1 never be #2.

there is a loneliness only poetry knows.

painting is poetry than is seen rather than felt.

poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.

be my muse and you can have my soul.

gather the constellations in your mind ; press them to paper & call it art.

writers make love to whatever they need.

her eyes are classic novels and poetry.

to write is to hold the power of a thousand universes between paper and pen.

i write as if it can heal my broken heart.

i write what i could never say.

artists are prisoners of their own creations.

write to settle the rage within you.

when she dances she looks like a poem about loss.

in writing you must kill all your darlings.

it’s funny how artistic we become when our hearts are broken.

he left pieces of himself in his art.

there is a chaos in my mind that can only be quelled by my hand on a pen.

i want music that makes holes in the sky.

with my beaten small guitar wearing the same old jeans.

i am writing to disappear.

to be written in ink is to be immortal.

show me a hero and i’ll write you a tragedy.

heartbreak makes poets of us all.

she had literature inside her heart that she couldn’t sometimes write.

the astrophile (20)

i would drink the sky and inhale the stars if i could.

i want to exhale stardust and create my own constellations.

moonlit princess in the night.

the stars in her eyes are far more beautiful than those in the sky.

and the stars whispered ‘come home’

i look up at the moon and wonder who else is looking too.

let me tell you about the birds and the bees ; the moon and the stars.

you are a cosmic child ; a celestial wonder.

she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.

she’s beauty she’s grace she’s in love with aliens and space.

people hope to touch the sky ; i dream of kissing it.

i would drink the sky and inhale stars if i could.

i want to exhale stardust and create my own constellations.

i saw galaxies in your eyes ; your love put stars in my evening skies.

you will give meaning to the evening skies.

now we’re lost somewhere in outerspace.

her aura is made of poetry roses and galaxies.

when you dream ; do you dream of the stars?

i can see the stars from the window of my bedroom and i think i’m in love.

she dreams under the midnight sun of colour and melodic heartbeats.

the baby doll (21)

she’s in the window in her pink dress ; radiant & transparent.

she had lavender in her hair and roses on her cheek.

she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.

there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars.

she tastes like fairytales.

their soul is baby pink and very expensive.

her idea of love was gentle and silent like a whisper of a touch.

she was like cherry wine and what a lovely headache she left behind.

to be soft is to be powerful.

she’s made of silk rose water and glitter.

she spritzes her face with rose water and moves on.

his voice is honey.

his affection comes fast or not at all.

she falls in love with the attention you give rather than the person.

he’s gentle and soft.

everything about her is so captivating ; like the aftermath of a storm.

she possesses an innocence so destructive she puts angels to shame.

he’s a glimpse of bliss ; a little taste of heaven.

she doesn’t love ; she quickly falls and ever so slowly picks herself back up and walks away.

there’s something godly yet sinful about loving her.

she wasn’t afraid of being left ; she was afraid of being forgotten.

the bellwether (11)

she’s in the window in her pink dress ; radiant & transparent.

there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars.

she wore her dress almost as well as she wore the universe.

she uses stardust as a highlighter.

stay until enough people have had time to admire your attire.

my mascara’s too expensive to cry over this.

fashion is the most powerful art there is.

he doesn’t wear outfits ; he creates looks.

she wishes she could make decisions the way she picked her clothes ; from a catalogue.

the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.

you can never be overdressed or overeducated.

the benevolent (26)

you blossom under kindness like a rose.

you managed to have a soft heart and peaceful mind despite the cruelty of the world.

you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; just have too much of a good heart.

she would have swallowed the sun to make you warm enough.

to love and lose and to still be kind.

her hands are soft and her eyes shine in the sun.

she laughs like she hasn’t a care in the world.

he’s got a heart so pure ; i bet he has flowers growing between his ribs.

she was not a girl of ice and glass but of sunshine and stardust.

she emits warmth and injects laughter into the people she encounters.

isn’t it ironic that you take care of everyone but yourself?

she dismissed those who stopped her from being able to see the world’s good.

she tastes like hope.

kind people are forged in fire and darkness and imploding stars.

he was made of sunlight.

to be soft is to be powerful.

optimism can save the world.

she cares ; its kind of her thing.

all he wanted was to receive the love he gave.

you’re soft like spring flowers and the white feathers inside your pillow.

there’s bravery in being soft.

it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations.

the world gave him so much pain and here he was turning it to gold.

he takes care of everyone but himself.

her voice is honey.

you are not weak just because your heart is so heavy.

the bibliomaniac (15)

i grew up in the shadow of a big bookcase ; where verses and novels all mingled and murmured.

books became her friends and there was one for every mood.

she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived.

novels aren’t just happy escapes ; they are slivers of peoples souls.

books were cold but safe friends ; he adored them.

walking the stacks in a library ; feeling the presence of sleeping spirits.

books gave him a comforting message ; you are not alone.

he finds himself turning to books and films for comfort.

a library is like an island in a vast sea of ignorance.

he dreams of old books and french cafes.

he loves fictional characters because he has a habit of loving people who can’t love him back.

novels aren’t just happy escapes ; they are slivers of people’s souls.

her eyes are classic novels and poetry.

he always imagined paradise as being some kind of library.

she wants to be the kind of woman people read books about.

the cataclysmic (20)

you will learn why storms are named after people.

i’ll swallow my blood before i swallow my pride.

there were girls who would tear you apart with their lips.

you took a wonder boy and you threw him away to become a monster.

the world demanded hate from her and so hate she gave.

girls like her were born in a storm.

how do i stay tender with this much blood in my mouth?

she sins to forget she has a heart.

you’ll understand why storms are named after people.

her mind is a very dangerous and destructive place.

real darkness was more than just a lack of light.

do monsters make war or does war make monsters?

if i’m anything it is violence.

to you everything tastes like blood.

she was destruction given form and purpose.

she held an elegant savagery.

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.

he tore the beauty from his face and called it terror.

there is blood in everything you say.

the connard (15)

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

take off your armor and let your skin breathe.

those who are heartless once cared too much.

he spent his life learning to feel less.

she can be so cruel and it comes so quickly that birds fly away.

how to be unapproachable ; a book by me.

i know i’m fucking moody and i know i’m quite unkind.

mood ; not in the mood.

smiling is a sign of weakness.

sorry i’m such an asshole.

on one hand who cares and in the other hand so what.

most likely to not give a fuck.

in memory of when i cared.

being brutally honest is a different shade of mean.

the coquette (20)

there were girls who would tear you apart with their lips.

she sins to forget she has a heart.

she’s like a rose ; she’s beautiful and enchanting but her roots are full of wounds.

she tasted like imported sophistication and domestic cigarettes.

she kissed demons and slept with ghosts because living with the dead felt more like home.

a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.

she looked at young men like she could smell their stupidity.

she’s a sweet talker with great legs ; her affections fleeting and wild.

she was sweet like cherry wine ; what a lovely headache she left behind.

her hair was long and her eyes were wild.

how to be a heartbreaker.

she’s no angel.

blow a kiss ; fire a gun.

she could tear you apart with her lips.

her attention comes fast or not at all.

she touches herself with strawberry painted fingers.

call me your baby girl.

boys play with toys and girls play with boys.

she wasn’t actually in love but she felt a tender curiosity.

they hate her because she smells of vanilla and doesn’t pick up her phone.

the credulous (14)

you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; just have too much of a good heart.

she laughs like she hasn’t a care in the world.

he’s so busy looking for the good in people he misses the knife they’re holding in their hand.

he’s the definition of starry eyed.

she thinks she’s living in a fairytale ; it’s why she fears the world so much.

she feels too vulnerable and soft for the world.

when someone shows her their true colours ; she tries to paint a different picture.

he was blinded by how people took him for granted.

be gentle with her ; she’s more vulnerable than she appears.

he’s always depended on the kindness of strangers.

she burned too bright for this world.

he knows too much and not enough.

she possesses an innocence so destructive she puts angels to shame.

she will love you unconditionally and that may be the saddest part about her.

the crepehanger (22)

she’s rotting quietly under her skits with a melancholy smile.

the world demanded hate from her and so hate she gave.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

her imagination has made friends with the dark parts of her mind.

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

you have such a february face ; so full of frost of storm and cloudiness.

and i’m disgusted with dreams now.

be like snow ; beautiful but cold.

she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.

show me a hero and i’ll write you a tragedy.

he doesn’t expect sunshine and rainbows to be coming from every aspect of life.

be like snow ; beautiful but cold.

i’m full of poetry now ; rot and poetry.

but his bones knew something wonderful about darkness.

she is rotting quietly under her skirts with a melancholy smile.

a negative mind will never give a positive life.

he became bitter and untouchable.

you know what they say about hope ; it breeds eternal misery.

i overflow like this black night.

she walked with darkness dripping off her shoulders.

i’ve seen ghosts brighter than his soul.

we’re all cynics and romantics ; sometimes simultaneously.

the crestfallen (20)

she’s rotting quietly under her skits with a melancholy smile.

i am made of insecurities.

you are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy.

sadness flirts with my soul and takes that too.

take the weight of your insecurities and lay them underneath a gravestone.

you may be in pain but you are not weak.

if only her life could be more like the movies.

what hasn’t killed her has made her oversensitive and defensive.

she’s a lions roar ; broken glass and a thousand tiny paper cuts.

when he’s sad he doesn’t say a word.

she’s standing in the window ; transparent and lost.

crying doesn’t mean you’re weak ; it means you’re alive.

she’s strong but she’s exhausted.

silence is not a song you should know all the words too.

some say she’s very poetic others say she’s very sad.

sadness fucks me way too often.

she is broken and she won’t ask for help.

he’s broken apart his insides.

when he moves he looks like a poem about loss.

he believes he’s nothing without his pain.

the crimson (20)

you’ll understand why storms are named after people.

she wanted a storm to match her rage.

she slipped her anger into something silky and attractive.

i have the world raging under my skin.

she beats her knuckles into other peoples jawbones ; the fight club is her temple.

to you everything tastes like blood.

she hissed ; her teeth dripping crimson.

he’s never been good at emotional stuff ; except anger.

he’ll argue about anything with anyone.

and the grace of the gods is a grace that comes by violence.

there is blood in all the things you say.

tragedy exists because you are full of rage.

he’s got fire for a heart.

he has the whole world raging beneath his skin.

the world demanded hate from her so hate she gave.

there is so much hate in his heart.

rage is the only emotion he’s good at feeling.

he’s a tiny yet angry force of nature.

make me your enemy and you shall see fury.

he’s made up of black coffee and poorly supressed anger.

the despondent (26)

skin deep damage does not make you unlovable.

i’ve turned people into homes and i ended up homeless.

the feeling of emptiness is incredibly intoxicating.

she’s strong but she’s exhausted.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

if only hell didn’t feel like home.

he became bitter and untouchable.

her imagination has made friends with the dark parts of her mind.

she fought best when she was breaking.

there is a beauty in the emptiness of your soul.

he opens his mouth and dust spills out instead of feelings.

sadness flirts with my soul and takes that too.

she walked with darkness dripping off her shoulders.

i’ve seen ghosts brighter than her soul.

i’m a ghost that everyone can see.

be like snow ; beautiful but cold.

take the weight of your insecurities and lay them underneath a gravestone.

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past.

it’s so dark in the room you’ve chosen to store your regrets.

you’ve handled tragedy ; surely you can handle tenderness.

maybe emptiness is a way of listening.

he spent his life learning to feel less.

she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.

you may be in pain but you are not weak.

a lot of confidence generates disappointment.

the dirtbag (15)

his motorcycle is the loudest noise in the city that never sleeps.

his fingers flash with jeweled rings when he waves them ; dealing drugs out of his pocket.

he spends his nights drinking jack and smoking weed.

his life is flashing lights and nights in jail for petty theft.

she’s a burden on society.

you were wild once ; don’t let me them tame you.

she spends her day riding motorcycles and smoking cigarettes.

he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.

mood ; not in the mood.

on one hand who cares and on the other hand so what.

he always finds the energy to sin.

he loves the way being bad feels.

boys who skate are better at grinding.

she doesn’t give a damn about her reputation.

property of no one.

the facade (15)

she’s like a volcano ; cool and calm on the surface with lava running through her veins.

you wear a mask for so long you forget who you were beneath it.

your mouth can lie but your eyes can’t.

you are not her anymore ; always presenting a different facade.

her eyes said more than words can say.

alone in my head ; i am content to pretend.

in a world where everyone wears a mask ; it’s a privilege to see a soul.

everyone saw a princess but inside she was on fire ; crashing and burning.

look at her smile and in the corner of her smile you’ll find the smallest hint of sadness.

her eyes are pure stars but her touch will freeze you to the bone.

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

take off your armor and let your skin breathe.

he spent his life learning to feel less.

kind faces are a lie.

i’ve met people who have never met me.

the fallen angel (16)

everything my mother prayed i wouldn’t be i became.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

how do i stay tender with this much blood in my mouth?

if only hell didn’t feel like home.

i was a goddess and now i ache.

he became bitter and untouchable.

maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light.

i’ve lost so many battles but i won’t lose the war.

she was not a girl of ice and glass but of sunshine and stardust.

in this world that kills beauty ; even gods cannot survive the fall.

and i’m disgusted with dreams now.

skin deep damage does not make you unlovable.

you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.

my father looks at me and sees everything i used to be.

you may be in pain but you are not weak.

broken isn’t the same as unfixable.

the fervour (17)

i never learned how to love in small doses.

pick up your heart on the way out.

those who truly love never stop loving.

i would rather die of passion than of boredom.

she felt everything too deeply ; it was like the world was too much for her.

he’s a lover without a lover.

i’m still a sensitive woman just with passion.

she creates entire romances in her dreams.

he’s an incurable romantic.

she falls in love so passionately and out of love so painfully.

i never learned how to love in small doses.

he has no notion of loving people by halves.

god save the romantics who wil destroy themselves for a better story.

it’s both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply.

he spent his life learning to feel less.

my heart just sang and out poured my soul.

her idea of love was gentle and silent like a whisper of a touch.

the grifter (3)

she thinks manipulation is the greatest art of them all.

she’ll look you in the eye as she tears you open.

he’s the best at what he does and what he does isn’t pretty.

the halcyon (20)

he is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t lived yet.

love her but leave her wild.

she loved the sea ; it made her feel small but free as well.

i never learned how to love in small doses.

lay underneath the clothes line and listen.

people like you are not meant to stand still.

you were wild once ; don’t let them tame you.

her foot was light and her eyes were wild.

optimism can save the world.

he’s alive with pleasure.

he refuses to die ordinary.

he doesn’t get attached to moments because good or bad ; they all pass.

she didn’t allow life to just happen to her ; she traveled the world and wrote books about it.

once you learn to create your own happiness ; no one can take that away from you.

she likes her hair messy her love wild and her sex aggressive.

she wants to love and radiant light.

home doesn’t exist for girls like her.

a life lived in fear is a life half-lived.

he wants to touch the sun and immerse in the sea.

take your shoes off and dance in the rain.

the impecunious (5)

now your wallet is nothing more than empty space.

the girl of her dreams was herself but with more money.

nothing to steal.

girls just want to have funds.

he wants to work until his bank account looks like a phone number.

the impious (7)

every day that satan tempts me i take it in my stride.

she’s no angel.

he believes in hell and he’s in it.

she sins to forget she has a heart.

he always finds the time to sin.

god is love but satan does that thing with his tongue that you love so much.

he refuses to believe he’s not the god of his own universe.

the intangible concept (16)

she was truly a puzzle but god forgive anyone who mistook her for a game.

her smile screamed ‘you don’t know me and you never will.’

i’ve met people who have never actually met me.

i’m a different person to different people but unknown to a lot.

she rolled into town like a new mystery.

for he had a great variety of selves.

he’s a mystery wrapped up in a pretty body.

she looked pale and mysterious ; like a lily under water.

her eyes reminded me of tinted windows ; she could see out but you couldn’t see in.

you will never know the real him.

accept the mystery.

she was like the moon ; part of her was always hidden away.

he’s as beautiful and mysterious as the night sky.

perhaps she loves mysteries so much that she became one.

trying to understand him is like trying to hold smoke in your hands.

she spoke to no one and carried secrets in her eyes.

the isolato (15)

i need the empty field around me and my legs pounding along roads.

loneliness becomes an acid that eats away at you.

i was quiet but i was not blind.

alone in my head ; i am content to pretend.

loneliness is like a drug ; you know it’s bad for you yet you keep going back.

she’s so transparent ; she could disappear without a trace.

i wasn’t lonely when i was alone.

he doesn’t mind being alone so long as he doesn’t feel lonely.

she doesn’t let anyone in so she doesn’t risk the chance of losing them.

he was born alone and he’ll die alone.

she believes she’s better on her own.

she spoke to no one and carried secrets in her eyes.

he felt alone in a crowded room.

he could disappear forever and no one would notice ; that’s how he liked it.

she has no time for meaningless conversations and friendships.

the lost soul (15)

travel far enough that you meet yourself.

i am a language i am yet to understand.

you will find your place in this lost world and give meaning to the stars.

i mean different things to different people ; but who am i to me?

i was quiet but i was not blind.

how does he know who he even is ?

she’s in the window looking lost and transparent.

he feels homesick for a place that doesn’t exist.

he’s a ghost that everyone can see.

when she moves she looks like a poem about loss.

how can he move forward when he doesn’t know which way he’s facing?

i’m the place between who i want to be and who others have made me out to be.

he’s starting to miss the person he used to be.

his mind is an ever going ocean with dark shades of teal.

two years later and i was gone.

the lothario (15)

he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

his mouth is heaven ; his kisses falling over me like stars.

he is lust ; he is sex in the back seat of a car.

he is an angel made of devilish grins and laughter.

he’s a god in human form but he’s got a corrupted soul.

he is the dangerous boy with the wild heart.

a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.

he’s a sweet talker with great legs ; his affections fleeting and wild.

there’s a hunger inside of me ; a thirst to be godly.

how to be a heartbreaker.

don’t give pieces of your heart away that you’re not even sure you have.

he was temptingly beautiful but stung anyone who got too close.

blow a kiss ; fire a gun.

he has persuasive lips but terrible motives.

the magnate (21)

underestimate me so i can embarrass you.

rule #1 never be #2.

he’s a corporate ceo ; making storms in other peoples lives.

there’s a hunger inside of me ; a thirst to be godly.

the lawyer with the briefcase can steal more money than the man with the gun.

the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.

she’s driven by power and profit.

stressed but well dressed.

act like you trust people but don’t.

you can never be overdressed or overeducated.

she thinks manipulation is the greatest art form of all.

people like her don’t write books ; she’s written about.

if you’re good at something never do it for free.

she’s a powerful girl.

be ambitious not thirsty.

her favourite position is ceo.

it’s only failure if you don’t learn something.

he doesn’t stop until he’s proud.

we all die ; his goal is to create something that never will.

intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.

find a way ; if there isn’t one make one.

the miscreant (7)

his life is flashing lights and nights in jail for petty theft.

dressed to kill.

she sins to forget she has a heart.

at what point does a man turn into a monster?

he’s the best at what he does and what he does isn’t pretty.

his fingers flash with jeweled rings when he waves them ; dealing drugs out of his pocket.

she’s a burden on society.

the paracosmist (21)

her imagination has made friends with the dark parts of her mind.

people hope to touch the sky ; i dream of kissing it.

i fear my imagination ; i’ve fallen so deeply in love with people and places i’ve only dreamt of.

things rarely happened the way he’d imagined them.

the real world is where the monsters are.

her mind stays up all night telling itself stories.

if only her life could resemble the movies.

go after dreams not people.

only her dreams will keep her from falling apart.

he’s always dreaming ; even when he’s awake.

he has an entire universe inside her mind.

she thinks she’s living in a fairytale ; it’s why she fears the world so much.

he creates entire romances in his dreams.

she fears her imagination for she’s fallen in love with places she’s never been and people she’s never met.

he’s in a world of his own.

why stop dreaming when you wake up?

the world needs fantasy not reality.

a thousand dreams within me softly burn.

life is hard but dreaming is not.

we lead strange lives ; chasing our dreams from place to place.

she tastes like fairytales ; she tastes like hope.

the paradox (17)

fire in her bones ; honey in her soul.

she’s sweet when she has to be & fierce when she needs to be.

i’m part heaven and equal parts hell.

she was the kind of girl who was a chaos of contradictions.

her heart has an argument with her head every time it beats.

we’re all cynics and romantics ; sometimes simultaneously.

she is madness ; she is hell and paradise.

she was truly a puzzle but god forgive anyone who mistook her for a game.

the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.

he’s got both light and dark inside of him.

she tastes like nectar and salt.

we all have both light and dark inside of us.

he wears darkness and strength equally well.

the girl has always been half goddess half hell.

fire in his bones honey in his soul.

he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.

he feels everything so strongly or not at all.

the pastiche (20)

everything my mother prayed i wouldn’t be i became.

you took a wonder boy and you threw him away to become a monster.

the world demanded hate from her and so hate she gave.

how do i stay tender with this much blood in my mouth?

if only hell didn’t feel like home.

no one has apologised for all that i have lost.

do monsters make war or does war make monsters?

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

skin deep damage does not make you unlovable.

you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.

don’t apologise for the way you chose to survive.

his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past.

you were wild once ; don’t let them tame you.

my father looks at me and sees everything i used to be.

he used to be better.

she’s not entirely here ; half of her has disappeared.

we are good people and we’ve suffered enough.

i am sorry for who i had to become to survive.

he wants himself back but he doesn’t remember who that is.

who i was then and who i am now are vastly different.

the philophobe (16)

he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

he’s not afraid to love ; he’s afraid of not being loved back.

silly boy she laughed ; love is for fools.

my first love was an insignificant boy when it should’ve been myself.

name the taste of your last heartbreak and spit it out.

do not fall in love.

i have love inside of me but i don’t know how to use it ; it scratches like barbs.

you were temptingly beautiful but stung when someone got close.

love scares her more than a gun.

she’s afraid of love so she doesn’t love anything.

loving was painfully awful and terrifying for her.

he craves attention but the mere thought of someone caring made his stomach turn.

she’s convinced that to love was to be torn apart.

she’s too busy being scared to realise she’s already in love.

his sin was falling in love and he’s learned his lesson.

the phoenix (20)

you can’t change the past but you can alter the future.

i survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.

you are not her anymore ; always running away from feelings.

you are not her anymore ; not that masked and layered princess.

you are not her anymore ; always presenting a different facade.

my first love was an insignificant boy when it should’ve been myself.

he flew darling. he may have fallen ; but first he dared to soar.

the way you brave your chest to the world is terribly brave.

you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.

don’t apologise for the way you chose to survive.

his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past.

admire your reflection as you step out of the haze of what's gone.

do better and move on.

broken isn’t the same as unfixable.

someday the pain will be useful.

if the hurt comes so will happiness.

she forgave and became.

her best revenge was improving herself.

the sun will rise and he will try again.

you have suffered enough ; it’s time that you won.

the polymath / academic (17)

underestimate me so i can embarrass you.

the more he acquires the more certain he is that he knows nothing.

the possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery.

happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing i know.

i can’t live in blissful ignorance like others.

he’s interested in everything and in nothing else.

we are voyagers ; discoverers of the not known.

everything interests me but nothing holds me.

you can never be overdressed or overeducated.

it’s only failure if you don’t learn something.

he doesn’t stop until he’s proud.

intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.

keep growing and learning.

his mind is as big as the universe.

true intelligence operates quietly.

it’s only failure if you don’t learn anything.

remind yourself that it’s okay to not be perfect.

the pristine (15)

you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; just have too much of a good heart.

her hands are soft and her eyes shine in the sun.

she laughs like she hasn’t a care in the world.

he’s got a heart so pure ; i bet he has flowers growing between his ribs.

she possess an innocence so destructive ; she puts angels to shame.

you’re soft like spring flowers and sunsets and white feathers inside your pillow.

she tastes like fairytales ; she tastes like hope.

to be soft is to be powerful.

he’s soft like spring flowers and sunsets.

his voice is honey.

you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; you just have to have too much of a good heart.

he looked like milk and honey would flow out of him.

be gentle with them ; they’re more delicate than they look.

you’re a glimpse of bliss ; a little taste of heaven.

they’re as pure as a river.

the prosperous (15)

we are beautiful and privileged.

there’s a hunger inside of me ; a thirst to be godly.

the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.

he’s driven by power and profit.

her soul is pink and very expensive.

billionaire boys club.

you can never be overdressed or overeducated.

she wanted to be extraordinary.

she’s a trust fund baby.

people like me don’t write books ; we’re written about.

selfish people live longer.

money makes her romantic.

he’s spoiled and selfish.

the devil does indeed wear prada.

her aesthetic is money and fighting with people.

the reticent (16)

no one will ever be able to totally capture her ; she seemed so evanescent.

nothing haunts you like unexpressed feelings.

silence is not a song you should know all the words to.

your mouth can lie but your eyes can’t.

she kept her thoughts to herself.

her eyes said more than words can say.

the secrets inside her mind are like flowers in a garden at nighttime ; filling the darkness with perfume.

he’s met people who have never truly met him.

you don’t ask ; i don’t tell.

things she can’t say outloud.

he wants to write a novel about silence ; the things people don’t say.

if you don’t get it off your chest you’ll never be able to breathe.

i don’t think anyone will ever truly capture her ; she’s so evanescent.

secrets that i held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought.

he doesn’t care who sees him naked ; he cares who sees him cry.

she was like the moon ; part of her was always hidden away.

the reveller (10)

she sins to forget she has a heart.

you drink like you have something to forget.

he spends his nights drinking jack and smoking weed.

i’ve got whisky with white lies and smoke in my lungs.

you were wild once ; don’t let them tame you.

you drink a little too much and go home alone.

she doesn’t give a damn about her reputation.

good times ; bad friends.

he’d rather be getting high.

dance all night ; sleep all day.

the self destructive (15)

if they can’t find anything to destroy ; they destroy themselves.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

i destroyed myself so you couldn’t hurt me.

you play with fire because you want to be burned.

he has a habit of self destruction.

god save the romantics who wil destroy themselves for a better story.

my hands are full of ash because i burn everything i touch.

he plays with fire because he wants to be burnt.

you will learn why storms are named after people.

she was destruction given form and purpose.

she held an elegant savagery.

nothing can destroy me like i can destroy myself.

you can’t scare a girl by screaming fire if she wants to be burned.

i desire the things that will destroy me in the end.

my hands are full of ash ; i burn down everything i touch.

the solicitous (12)

she’s drowning in an ocean of thoughts.

he’s tired ; he just wants the world to be quiet for a bit.

she was calm on the outside but thinking all the time.

the voice inside my head speaks louder than the one that comes out vocally.

he just wants to escape one thing ; his head at night.

her thoughts are haunting her.

too busy feeling feelings and overthinking it.

once he learnt to think he couldn’t stop.

i think i worry too much ; i need to take it easy.

maybe i think too much for my own good.

most of the stuff people worry about never happens.

he’s afraid of talking nonsense.

the sovereign (21)

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

she thinks manipulation is the greatest art of them all.

you think i’m not a goddess? try me. touch me and you’ll burn.

i’m learning to sharpen my teeth and rule kingdoms.

oh royal princess ; i love the way you wear your crown.

be careful royal princess ; too much and you will drown.

she was afraid of being forgotten.

a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.

look to your kingdoms ; i am coming for them all.

everyone saw a princess but inside she was on fire ; crashing and burning.

rule #1 never be #2.

she looked at young men like she could smell their stupidity.

there’s only one queen of the underworld.

queens raise queens.

she was destruction given form and purpose.

she held an elegant savagery.

who still believes in kings?

the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.

she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.

she wasn’t afraid of being left ; she was afraid of being forgotten.

the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.

the traveler (15)

no one will ever be able to totally capture her ; she seemed so evanescent.

travel far enough that you meet yourself.

she loved the sea ; it made her feel small but free as well.

home doesn’t exist for girls like me.

we are voyagers ; discoverers of the not known.

she runs until the world is quiet and the smells are peaceful.

people like you are not meant to stand still.

remind yourself of how fast you’re able to run.

no matter where you run ; you always end up running into yourself.

she longed to go far into the fields and listen to the birds.

he’s flirting with life ; teasing each city with his presence before leaving them behind.

be inspired by beauty everywhere ; be a citizen of the world.

i love places that make you realise how tiny you are in the world.

he wants to see every kind of sunset.

be a traveler not a tourist.

the urbanite (10)

his motorcycle is the loudest noise in the city that never sleeps.

if you want to find love than you know where the city is.

she loved the loud cry of the city.

but first ; coffee.

everyone hurts themselves in the city ; then they pick themselves up to not get in anyone elses way.

living in new york city is like dating a comedian ; fun while it last but when it’s over man is it over.

she loves to make coffee for the city that loves to drink it.

he loves the empty streets and 5 am winds of the city.

brooklyn baby.

smells like cold coffee stress and aesthetic in here.

the utopian (5)

she thinks she’s living a fairytale ; that’s why she fears the world so much.

her idea of love was soft and gentle like a whisper of a touch.

he never learned how to love in small doses.

people wait a lifetime for true happiness.

he thinks fate is behind everything.

the vindictive (16)

i’ll swallow my blood before i swallow my pride.

you took a wonder boy and you threw him away to become a monster.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

you’ll understand why storms are named after people.

she wanted a storm to match her rage.

she fought best when she was breaking.

no one has apologised for all that i have lost.

is it better to out monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?

a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.

to you everything tastes like blood.

you will learn why storms are named after people.

his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past.

it’s so dark in the room you’ve chosen to store your regrets.

he tore the beauty from his face and called it terror.

there’s a hunger inside of me ; something vicious.

there is blood in everything you say.

the vixen (25)

there were girls who would tear you apart with their lips.

i’m part heaven and equal parts hell.

girls like her were born in a storm.

love her but leave her wild.

she sins to forget she has a heart.

she’s like a rose ; she’s beautiful and enchanting but her roots are full of wounds.

she wanted to be extraordinary ; to possess a savage glitter.

you’ll understand why storms are named after people.

she tasted like imported sophistication and domestic cigarettes.

she thinks manipulation is the greatest art of them all.

home doesn’t exist for girls like me.

like art she was beautiful but like art she was also complex.

people find her madness charming because she is so beautiful.

a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.

everything about her is captivating like the aftermath of a storm.

she looked at young men like she could smell their stupidity.

she was taught young to strike first and you’ll always be safe.

she was destruction given form and purpose.

she held an elegant savagery.

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.

the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.

she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.

she was sweet like cherry wine ; what a lovely headache she left behind.

the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.

#character tags #musings tags #aesthetic tags #character musings tags #rph #mi #ml

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