telestiial-blog

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me: I’m lonely 

my subconscious:  you can stand literally 5 people

me:

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Don’t do it. Don’t love me.

Charles Bukowski 

(via wordsnquotes)

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On Reflection

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Don’t cry. The damned don’t cry.

Eugene O’Neill, Mourning Becomes Electra (The Haunted)

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you make me feel like i’ve got constellations running through my veins

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Me 24/7

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Is fuck off an emotion because I feel it in my soul

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sorry, i only accept apologies in cash 💸

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boyets replied to your post: braids his hair. for once he's acting sweet.

YIKES

i’d say im sorry but we all know it’s not my thing

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Porthos tries his best not to laugh at the tangles in Phobos' hair. He gently starts running his fingers through the other navigator's hair. "See? It's not so bad. Your hair is so soft." ( ; v ; )

Phobos’ blood is singing inside of his veins, demanding satisfaction for the anger that makes it boil. But he needed to retreat, he was too close to exploding and revenge is best served cold, as they say, when he can actually think things through and get the best of it with the minimum effort implied.

And of course, he will search for Porthos’ company to calm him down, but the mix of feelings in his gut when the taller male treats him so gently definitely isn’t helping him to... well, calm the fuck down. 

Yet Phobos leans into the touch, that gentle, caring, warm and familiar touch that sends electricity through his body yet maybe that’s what makes his senses go haywire right before he shuts down and closes his arms around the other navigator’s middle. His cheek resting against the other’s shoulder, he’s hiding from the world in Porthos’ neck.

“I hate him so much...”

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-messly attempts to braid Phobos' hair- ((bc cains jumping into a bandwagon 8D

Too many tugs, too many HARD tugs, this isn’t what he signed for and he is now opening his eyes, groaning and turning around while janking his head -and hair- away from violent hands. To say he’s fucking shocked to see Cain is an understatement. To say he’s freaking furious is a light way to put it.

“What the fuck! Would you quit it already? Haven’t you done enough damage yet? Go the fuck away!”

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braids his hair. for once he's acting sweet.

Phobos is tired enough to barely flinch when he feels some fingers on him, but he knows -or thinks he knows- that no one other than Porthos would even dare to do something like this, fearing a terrible reaction from the blond. He hums, leaning into de touch with satisfaction, closing his eyes and letting a soft moan when the other pulled a big tighter one lock.

“Fuck, feels good...”