thedcrkness-blog

[thedcrkness-blog]

CRIES WITH JOY CAUSE @GRIIEVOUS IS BACK!! 

[thedcrkness-blog]

[ BROTHER ]

Fire was all that he saw. It was an all consuming conflagration and called to him like a death filled beacon. He could still see the burning body parts at the center and even with the full knowledge that to reach out and grab a small, charred limb would mean pain and possibly death, he had to have something. He couldn’t just stand there and watch, content to see her body reduced to ash. Whatever she had done to him, it was nothing compared to seeing her like this. He had hated what she did to him, he endured the years of abuse in silence while wishing one day the nightmare would end —but he never wanted her dead, never wanted her body desecrated.

But before he could do anything, before he could even reach into the flames, he was pulled away. Two muscular arms were gripping him and holding him back, holding him so that the only thing he could do was watch her body burn. The memory of that sight would be seared into his memory for the rest of his life, along with the smell of burning flesh. And the one who caused it all wasn’t even the one gripping him, but himself. It was all because of Kyle that Alicia Spencer’s body burned tonight.

Spun around, Kyle was forced away from the fire and into the sight of a murderer, a murderer by his own making. Hands which had surely been used to slice apart their mother was holding him closely by the face. Even an attempt to turn away, to look back at the burning pit was halted. Yet he didn’t want to look into Tate’s eyes. He was too terrified of what might be seen. For as evil as his mother had been, he had been there, right there with her to watch the light leave from her eyes. As for Tate…he was scared that there would be no light left, and Kyle didn’t want to see his brother in that way.

❝It’s going to be okay?❞ His words came out strained, as if the warm air had taken away his breath. ❝You killed our mom, Tate!❞ The yell was loud and fierce, one that would destroy any attempt to cover up the fire if someone happened to be listening. ❝You can’t just burn a body and think everything will be okay.❞ Just the mere inkling of the thought that Tate thought everything would work out just grand sent him laughing hysterically. ❝Is that what you thought? Just cut up the body, chuck it in the fire, and we’re good? You killed a person. You killed our mom.❞ Regardless of how many times Kyle said it, the statement alone felt insane to think about. Why couldn’t he have just stopped his mother like he said he would? Even in this fit of rapidly climbing hysteria, he still knew that this night, the night that changed their entire lives…it was all purely on him. All the blame could be traced back to Kyle, Kyle and his lack of action.

❝We’re teenagers, Tate! Our mom knows people. Sure a bunch of them thought she was shit, but what do you thinks going to happen when she never shows up to her job? What about when the school calls and need to talk to her? You think our neighbors aren’t going to notice that only two people live here now? Or what about this fire?❞ His one good arm waved behind him towards the flames. ❝Sorry officer, just wanted to cook a bit of s’mores with our dead mother as kindling. We’ll put it out right away.❞ The final words came out at a croak as his mouth dried up further than before. Coughing as he took a step back, Kyle tried to breathe in to calm himself, but as the mania left, the depression came roaring back to fill every crevice within his chest.

❝This is crazy. This is all crazy.❞ As the tears returned, Kyle shook his head. Just that short burst of energy and yelling left him tired. Everything inside him hurt. His chest burned and his throat felt as if it were clawed from the inside out. His broken arm still hung limp, the cast starting to weigh him down as his energy dissolved. Even if he had never wanted to admit it to himself, he had become the foundation for the family after their dad left, striving to be responsible. He may have seen Tate as irresponsible and rash at times, but that was his brother and he did anything he could to clean up after his twin. Now Tate had tried to clean up after him and the situation just got that much worse andout of control. Out of his control.

He only had to tell her to stop, to say he didn’t want her in there. Then they could still be a family. They could forget about their shameful past and live normally, or as normally as it was possible for the Spencers. But normal was gone without a trace and for as absolutely terrified as he was that his brother might be too far gone, Tate was all he had. With the anger dissipating, he stepped towards his brother and pulled him into an embrace. They were fucked, more than he could ever dream of, but he couldn’t lose his brother too.

The weight of his brother’s words, pulled at the boys soul. Tapping into the humanity that was so SILENCED through all this. Sure she was a BITCH and she deserved to die, but Kyle was right, he put him and KYLE in danger and that in itself had him terrified of the future. he boy promised safety, PLANNED safety-- he wants nothing more then to just END this and go back, sure maybe they could have ran away-- maybe turned her in ANYTHING else! Tate’s impulse has once again done nothing but hurt those people he loves most. Teeth grit as his Brother’s anger and truth subside into his soul his being and remorse becomes too much. He has failed Kyle--- he’s failed it all!

Strong hands lift from his Brother--- he isn’t worthy of touching him or even looking at the light that he has so willfully KILLED. How will Kyle ever recover?! And if he doesn’t how will Tate ever live with the guilt? The answer as simple he WOULDN’T, he’s a coward and a stickler for taking the EASY way out. In his dark fuck up eyes he truly thought he did what was right for Kyle, that they WOULD be happy and finally Tate could help pick up the pieces like Kyle had for so long with him. Kyle deserves a Brother that makes him happy, a life WORTH living! And what did he give him? GRIEF and despair!

Those hands that once tore their Mother limb from limb into the flames found their way into tousled blonde locks as he pulls. Tears are streaming down his cheeks as he gasps with gentle words against his actions, or the repercussions--- “no--- NO!” He won’t believe it, he CAN’T believe it! His brother goes off on a tangent of what they would say or what people would do, “it won’t! This will be good! K-Kyle!” He is lying through his teeth, hoping to stop the pain, the ACHE in his dark soulless heart. 

Put out the fire! God someone hit rewind, take that look off his Brother’s face! He can’t handle it! What would he do if that light diminished to nothing, if that harsh bite to Kyle’s scared words became a daily thing?! Disgust would ring in every comment about Tate, but he was just trying to protect Kyle. He couldn’t bear one more moment with their Mother bossing him around and treating him like her--- SLAVE! He wasn’t a slave! He is an angel among demons and Tate is the demon straight at the center bidding him to fall whilst wishing he never does!

“Why--- why did I do this?!” His words are caught with tears and stutters his orbs never looking to Kyle, he was unworthy of his gaze or any kind of help to his emotions. He deserved his brother’s anger. He deserved it all, “go! Go quick! I’ll only hurt you!” He cant bear the thought, Kyle is his weakness. The only person in this whole WICKED world that he loves more then life itself and here he will give that up. “It was me, not you. Il take the blame--- just. GO!”  He isn’t taking no for an answer, and he never will.

Teeth grit as hands lift to push Kyle back gently but enough to knock him out of his stance. He’s right there is only a matter of time till they are caught and Tate will go down easily if he knows that Kyle gets out of this in one piece. He is ruined already-- terrible and the epitome of DARKNESS, even with his brother’s angelic light he will never change, but he might taint that light. He never will allow such--- “There’s no TIME Kyle! You’re right! I FUCKED up! Please. Just. GO!”

Fade to Black

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[ MY SUN ]

Kyle could smell the tantalizing herbs and spices wafting on the air even before he stepped inside. This was definitely one of his favorite local joints. The restaurant was a homey place really, a family-owned establishment best known for its authentic Italian dishes and freshly cooked bread sticks with parmesan. Lining the walls were paintings and mosaics depicting faraway scenes of Italy. It was refreshing to sit at, dine in, and enjoy. Best of all, he knewowner. Practically as soon as he stepped foot inside, a woman greeted him. He strolled toward the front and struck up some friendly, polite chitchat. When she had to answer the phone he sat at a table off to the side to wait for his take-out, idling on his phone, scrolling down his feed on Facebook.

The wait stretched to a good twenty minutes or so, widening the opportunity for Tate to dowhatever he needed to back at the house. Then he was picking up the bag of food and making his departure. Kyle was careful when he set it down in the passenger seat, only briefly taking a peek inside. Which options did he go with? Kyle couldn’t really tell and anyway he didn’t want to completely spoil the surprise. A hand was held out the brace the bag from tipping over as he drove, headed back home. He parked the car on the side of the street. Reaching across to get a grip on the handles of the bag he pulled it out, closed the door shut with a definite slam, and made his way through the gated fence up to the front steps. Kyle could barely stand the wait anymore, and he was a patient guy, but it was his birthday and he was excited.

The first thing he noticed was the dimness. ❝Tate?❞ he called out, all but resembling a puppy dog with its tag wagging with the happy grin alight on his features. He paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Kyle could hear music playing somewhere. It sounded like music heliked. Inarguably, because he recognized the voice and knew Tate hated that song. ❝Wow…he didn’t,❞ he murmured to himself, looking as incredulous as he felt. His heart was beginning to race a little from the building anticipation. Collecting himself, Kyle walked slowly through the house with the food in tow, aware that every footstep brought him closer to the kitchen, where the strains of music were coming from. It was his birthday, but he didn’t expect this, any of this.

The table was set, complete with red cloth and lit candles; the music brought everything together, providing a soft, intimate feel.

His mouth parted slightly, and yet no words came out. What was going on here? He couldn’t even bring himself to crack a smile at first, the state of shock he was in was so deep. Kyle’s hand on the bag didn’t release, instead it tightened. Eyebrows met in confusion as he shook his head, a choked laugh tumbling out because he didn’t know what else to do. His face was positively burning with a myriad of emotions — puzzlement, surprise, utter and total delight. A deep breath was taken to better compose himself, and he scrutinized his brother who was standing there without a shirt. He was guessing he got it dirty in his haste to cook and then clean. It was comical and endearing in its own way. Kyle couldn’t help but beam from ear to ear.

❝I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you,❞ Kyle said, laughing. He walked up to him, all while gazing at how beautifully the kitchen had been transformed. The bag was set on the table almostthoughtlessly. His eyes were shining, and his face melted as he stepped closer to Tate, reaching out to tenderly cup his face before he tugged him into his arms for a hug. ❝I love you.❞

Hurried hands are shaking his shirt, before he is quick to looking around for another. Too late the minute he hears the door open he doesn’t want to miss his Brother’s reaction to his EFFORT to make this a decent birthday. That look on his face, a happiness that was lost so long ago. Yet it was earned again the minute they connected. Kyle was everything he could ask for-- everything in him was good and perfect, a string of harsh difference lies in Tate though. He hopes tht his efforts are enough to show his care yet the half cooked food and pretty ambiance is hardly enough to make up his mistakes every other day of the year.

Forgetting he even doesn’t have his shit he watches as his Brother’s strong features brighten. Those chocolate orbs light like milk chocolate and it has Tate’s lips pulling up himself. He was the reason for that reaction-- no matter what he did wrong or got right he would still remember that for once the joy on his Brother’s face belongs to HIM. Of course Kyle wouldn’t believe it, he was always convinced that he wasn’t worthy of every good thing this world could give. He was worth far more then Tate’s ATTEMPT at a nice birthday, and deep under that smile Tate has he feels that he still hasn’t done enough.

The soft touch of Kyle’s hands to his face give him a sudden melting sensation deep in his core. He was so sentimental with Kyle, no matter how much he tries to hide it under his overly tough exterior--- Kyle will always be his kryptonite. Strong and loving arms wrap around him and he snakes his own around his brother’s. His strong embrace one that soothes his frantic thoughts and his words leave an smile on that handsome face of his, “I love you too.”

The sound of Kyle’s music-- though annoying in this moment it seems to soothe him and it isn’t light to cause a chuckle from his lips. For a boy with such a dark inside he seems to be anything but dark or angry in his brother’s embrace.

“I tried to cook, but it definitely wasn’t edible.” He gives a lighthearted chuckle pulling back just so he can look at Kyle’s perfect features. This time his hand moves to cradle Kyle’s cheek-- romance? He can manage it, well for Kyle that is. “Wouldn’t want you getting sick on your birthday.” His lips lift in a smirk before he leaned forward-- pressing a gentle kiss to his plump lips.

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@wehavemommyissues

Violet had always had a high pain threshold, she’d had to with how rebellious and rambunctious she’d been as a child, her father’s fierce little girl. She’d accumulated quite a listing of injuries and little scars, even broken bones from the time she’d decided that she needed to save a cat who’d climbed too high into the tree in their front yard. Not that she remembered any of that -now-. This though, this wasn’t pain. This was searing, white-hot agony pinpricking at each individual nerve ending her body had and leaving her unable to catch her breath. Where was she?? The dark blonde forced her eyes open, feeling hot, sticky liquid drip down her face and over her chest, soaking into the dress she wore. She tried moving and immediately regretted it, letting out a broken scream as every muscle and bone in her body -ached- and her head stung and throbbed in a terribly worrying way. The flower was in a car, and from the looks of it, it was wedged against an incline and had the car tilting at an angle where it had crashed violently. She couldn’t remember how she got here, couldn’t remember anything before the pain had brought her back into consciousness. Were those sirens? She couldn’t tell…in her complete state of dizzying disorientation, it could have been her own harsh gasps and moans of distress. Did she have a cellphone? Her eyes (one of them swollen with the promise of a black eye) wandered carefully around the tossed about contents of the bloodied interior, hand carefully searching for a mobile device as she cried out each time she reached too far for current comfort. She heaved in hard breaths and felt her shaky fingers wrap around a rectangle that felt like it -could- be a phone, bringing it closer to her face to see it.

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To say that he hasn’t contemplated this for weeks, MONTHS, if she hadn’t made that first step well he would have waited years. She was more then just a t o y  she had to be! She is a flower, delicate and pure and only HIS to defile! Of course as the boy lingers outside of the house, or as far as he could go. His arms snaked around his legs as those eyes as dark as his soul linger on the dark world around this house. How foolishly people pass, how pathetic it is that they don’t notice just what lingers in their town, in their back yard. 

She doesn’t realize he senses her, oh poor flower you were pegged the minute you walked through those chestnut doors. She is HIS everything! His reason for this abyssal living, after all she was and always will be perfect. From those honey chestnut orbs down to her grunge apparel and bite behind those pretty lips. She is tainted behind those pretty features, and some of that is from him. Which would mean she does hold of piece of him, though she holds everything he has and ever will.

Today was a good day, a day he didn't feel he would tear out his hair in anger as she just passed by him. Acted as if he was nothing more but background noise! How could he EVER be the same again?! Was he ever sane? The answer was an inevitable NO, but with her it was as close as he got. She said goodbye with those sugar dipped lips and he would remember that every single day. Even now as he lingers on the ledge of the stone porch, he thinks of that night. How his perverted mind tried to give her something-- someone! He never meant to kill her, he didn’t know he TRIED to save her! But did that count for anything? Of course not! He fights from pulling out toughs of blonde locks-- biting away the tears that will FOREVER plague him.

‘Hi Tate.’

Lips part. shock encompassing his chance for redemption? Would his prayers finally be listened? He is vulnerable, but he would forever be as such until he EARNS her back again! He is hell bent on doing just that, she is the only light he has ever known and he will NOT let go!

“Violet.” His voice is still holding some shock as his feet land on the porch, forced to stand-- yet he will not overrun his luck by closing in on her, no he needs her to see that he would do ANYTHING for her, including respect her wishes. Even if those wishes kill him slowly with each passing moment. “Hey-- you look nice.” Really? You look nice?! That’s what you fucking got?!  What else was he supposed to say--- I’m sorry I raped your mom and killed her with that baby, it was before I knew you. If I would of known you it never would have happened?! Yeah that would fucking fly.

     ▒ She doesn’t know how long it has been since she died, anymore. She used to count the passage of days and nights, CAREFULLY cataloging her time spent as a spectre, until it dawned on her just how fucking depressing and pointless such a task was. There was no one to hallmark this passage of time with — her mother and father had moved on with their eternally NEEDY new spawn, Moira regarded her as nothing more than a wandering sack of bad energy, Chad and Patrick rarely spoke a word outside of the screaming matches. Funny that in death, as in life, Violet Harmon’s primary complaint would be running out of cigarettes and being alone. She can’t say how long it took for the idea to formulate in her brain, but eventually, this loneliness leads to thoughts of HIM crawling up from the blackest part of her mind. Thinking leads to reminiscing, which sometimes leads to anger, other times to a deep void growing in her chest. She is at a loss as what to make of the feelings, knowing full well that she is making the wrong decision, albeit one she has agonized over, when she allows weeks or possibly even months to pass, thinking over the prospect of seeing him just once. That kind of mental weakness is dangerous and she knows from the moment the idea is conceived where it will lead her. Finally, one evening, she allows herself to slip indulgently into that momentary weakness, pausing when she passes by the window and sees him sitting there in the porch. Usually, she would simply continue on and pretend the blonde spirit were even less than invisible, but something tugs at her and her will is too broken to resist. She steps onto the porch, crickets in full song in the balmy California night, unsure if she’s even been heard before she speaks out loud. She is a FOOL of the highest order for being there at all, for allowing such gentle words to pass through her lips and she knows it well. ❝ HI, TATE. ❞ She has no backup plan for accountability when her ire returns, no idea how she’ll recall this visit when the ice creeps back into her heart and she remembers what he has done, but there she is.

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Reblog if you don’t mind OC x Canon ships

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AHS

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I prepare for the noble war. I’m calm, I know the secret. I know whats coming and I know no one can stop me not even myself. I kill people I like. Some of them beg for their life. I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel anything.

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Tate Langdon Aesthetic

 I prepare for the noble war. I’m calm, I know the secret. I know whats coming and I know no one can stop me not even myself.

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Mad Hatter- Melanie Martinez || Tate Langdon

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TESTING testing one two three