𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚠...

“ leaving salvation ; hell on earth ”  —  JEREMIAH PIKE LUCA FISHER is a fandomless original character ; a talented idea by a brilliant mind -- being brought to life by carma (she|her ; 25+). just here to fulfill a beautiful mind’s vision.  ♘

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aggressive, callous, cannibal, careless, compulsive, cowardly, domineering, envious, greedy, hypocritical, impatient, impolite, incompetent, kidnapper, lazy, liar, materialistic, murderer, obsessive, overcritical, overemotional, patronizing, sarcastic, self-indulgent, serial killer, torturer, touchy, traitorous, unclean, unpredictable, untidy, vain, vengeful.

tagged by: @divinityburnt (ILY SIS)

@gurlrot​ sent: ❛  are  you  okay ?  ❜

a defeated laugh releases from his chest as his fingers rub his eyes before taking a deep breath. tongue presses the inside of his cheek as he shakes his head. 

@sunflwrrs​ (loretta) sent:  ❛  why  do  you  care ?  ❜

“d-d-don’t leave, retta. j-just give me a second--” luca says in a quick breath with panic on his tongue.

hand firmly and quickly grasps at the door frame as he creates a barrier to keep her from leaving--from running away. when she asks that question, he stares at her intently. crickets fill the silence as woodland sounds harmonize in the dead of the summer night. an empty six pack sit on the table in his trailer, barely drunk in the midst of passionate conversation.

he had challenged her as to why she skips every town she wanders in, as to not pass judgement, but trying to make sense for the sake of his own selfish want for understanding. he knows the feeling of a murky past with intent to follow you to the ends of the earth--to bring you back to the day you decided to escape it all. 

“i’m sorry. i just--” he pauses as he looks away as if finding an answer in the small space he called home. “i’m just trying to understand, ‘kay? but we ain’t gotta discuss it no more. just--dont leave...please?”

a simple question deserves a simple answer. eyebrows pull into a bothered frown as hands desperately seek for busy. luca coughs to clear his throat as his head is scrambling for words to say; words to reason as to why he looks away. in hindsight, the man was never one to look anyone in the eyes when speaking, especially when nervous or concealing something he knew his face would give way too easily.

<<

@repentantshe​ sent: "Nothing is wrong with you!" from this meme (accepting)

The pressure in his jaw tightens to an incapacitating pain as his neck stiffens with hands wound in white knuckled fists, a bottle in one hand--a glass neck about to be shattered. Eyes that are normally coloured with deep earthy tones turn to cold pools of black ice as pink glossy hues replace what was white. He could feel his throat tight with no chance of air getting through. He can’t look at her. He refuses to. He refuses to acknowledge her presence as if he was a child playing ‘if i can’t see you, you can’t see me’. 

She pushes. She stays. As he half expected her to. She was persistent, and it was only one of the many countless things he absolutely cherished about her.

But for this moment, he wish he hadn’t. The longer he stayed in Harlan, the dark shadows that lingered teared at him as if being punished for returning after leaving those he loved in abandonment. Reflections of his father stared back at him every corner he turned; as others poke and prod at his own flaws he foolishly blinded himself to as he washed this town with hypocritical songs, when he was a walking wreck waiting to crash and burn.

Luca brings a finger to his temple. “Don’t you see, Claire? I’ve got your mind fucked up just like this whole god damn town--what about me is even real...tell me....” he responds in quivered breaths as years of buried unresolved trauma fights to resurface. “I’m not good. I’m like---I’m just like--”

He can’t bring himself to say the thing he feared the very most. Thoughts blur and mesh into a chaotic mess as words slip away. Hand fumble for the keys he left at the shop as memory of his broken down truck slips along with every other memory made since his return. They are replaced with images of every choice he made in an effort for the story to unfold in his own favour. His heart wasn’t as pure as he thought it had always been. It was tainted--blackened with scalding tar of manipulation, lies, and false intentions. Hand falls to his side. 

“Everything is wrong with me, Claire--” Luca whispers. “If you can’t fucking see that, then you’re mind is as weak as the folks in this here place. If you were smart, you’d walk out right now and leave.” His voice is raised as he wipes his eyes with his forearm and takes a long laboured drink of the liquor hugged in his fingers. “Leave!”