hi stormsssssssssssy hiiiiiii thank you for the askkk teheeheh
It’s embarrassing, naked desire, and Callum has known this to be true all of his life. Never drop your own lore, you cant share yourself and not expect to loose. Being known is ugly. He’s an actor, he knows this, the crusade of sharing yourself with the world never fucking ends and it is destined to fail— a spiritual rack and psychological stalemate. To be what he is, is to float aimless in the ether of every dream and fear he’s ever had, to toil in the guck of desire and despair in the poisonous hope that some day someone, something, some new wave of unprecedented good luck would pluck him out of millions and launch him into the stratosphere. He should be at the pub.
Bucky thinks he’s pissed himself and it feels like someone is twisting a screw into a tender point in the crown of his head out the hollow just above his right eye. He’s mostly dressed mostly— spots a shoe over by the door of the room floor he’s been smeared onto, oddly missing a lace. There are several buttons missing from his new silk shirt — he liked those, the shirt was the only part of the outfit he really got any say in and the buttons were what drew him to it— and the rest done up haphazardly. His shorts are on back to front and chafing where they’re bunching up, a couple newer cigarette burns he didn’t have the night before.
Marion is asleep, her long blonde hair splayed out across the mattress— one of her pillows having made its way by her feet, the other behind her head instead of under it. There’s the familiar smell of jasmine and vervain on the air, fighting for dominance against the thick tang of antiseptic soap gale knows well, all the whores use it here. His mothers covers are mangled, half way trailing off the bed over her thighs and the other half twisted between her arms over her bosom where she’s gripping them.
"Maman" he says and there’s skin warmed steel pressed against his throat, her eyes open but remain completely blank “Maman” he says again, even quieter.
"Gale," and she's dragging him down for a hug, her skin is hot and clammy like his was minutes ago "I was dreaming."
"Somethings happening,” he whispers, his nose presseing into the side of her throat, “I was dreaming too”
janainaart
jbbartram-illu
dededos
origamiaround
romaincrisis
ellievsbear
snowghoul
