In all the darkness I came to thee, and found no arms outstretched.
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@grmrper-a
In all the darkness I came to thee, and found no arms outstretched.
LITERATE - OC - NSFW - INDIE

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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hEY MY DUDES, so I did decide to make a hayes brothers’ based multi-muse blog which you can find under here @haycsqve
needless to say we’ll be moving
If we have threads, they will be continued on here, pls tag that url from now on
hEY MY DUDES, so I did decide to make a hayes brothers’ based multi-muse blog which you can find under here @haycsqve
needless to say we’ll be moving
If we have threads, they will be continued on here, pls tag that url from now on
“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.” - The Secret History by Donna Tartt
consistency in the tenses I use? don’t know her

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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when we aren’t drunk enough to stand it ; a starter for @grmrper
this place is not entirely unfamiliar to her – the casual decor befitting the type of person that she knows him to be. yet she tries her best not to here in the confines of these walls more than she has to because the relationship between them is rather cut and dry. she uses him as a public cover so that she doesn’t have to get married to some half wit that might steal her chance of inheritance and that is supposed to be the end of that. no sex, no love, nothing but the knowledge that this benefited them both and that they would eventually end it.
yet here it was a year later and they were still keeping up the charade – the same one that led her to haphazardly drop her heels off at the front door and walk right into the others kitchen. she knows where things are located because, despite her attempts, she’d been here more than she an count. ❛ you’d think the paparazzi would get tired of following us after a while – we’re the ‘perfect’ couple after all ❜ ironic laughter falls from her lips as she busies her hand in pouring the strongest liquor she can find into a glass filled half way with ice chips.
only when both glasses are ready does she grab them, the bottle tucked under her home as she basically glides over to where he is and hands him one. ❛ lets toast to a irresistible union, we’re all anyone ever fucking talks about. ❜
He turns the light switch around. Like spotlights suddenly turning to a stage, his apartment is washed with light and reveals a vast living room with no hint of anyone living inside. Almost clinically clean is what he usually hears when he’s visited. There’s no breath of life, no hint of personality. Cold, unhomely, ever unfamiliar. His apartment gives away his bachelorhood, all functional, all a facade. Juliet is one of many women who walk in and try to leave a trace behind. But, where there is no intention, there is no means to keep it all either.
Outside, the world seems dominated by the flashing camera lights of paparazzi, like lightning on a stormy night. It’s threatening and uncomfortable, but he has grown dull to it. Juliet attracts attention like a magnet, and when he had agreed to participate in her deal, he has also agreed to be part of this flashy, magazine-worthy lifestyle she sports with ease.
Charles meets her irony with a subtle ‘mhm’. Only half of what she has said has reached his conscious, the rest he has overheard.
And naturally, they end up in the kitchen. As always. Breaking yet another bottle of some cheap brand alcohol, though this one is not as old as the one they drank the last time. She has ignored his pleas that the expensive ones were only for important occasions and important guests and that Juliet was not.
Charles leans against the counter opposite to her and waits until a glass full of alcohol is handed over to him. Blue eyes embrace the amber color of the Brandy in his hands, and a sly smile creeps onto his lips at the mere thought of her drinking like a man once again.
“To us and to all the idiots that want to be just like us”, he says and raises his glass. Now it is his turn to make his words dance in irony. A laugh escapes his mouth. The alcohol burns on the way down and Charles splutters like a child.
Brother
/ ˈbrʌðər / noun. a bastion of calm, a best friend of your kin, eternal promise of camaraderie you’ll never laugh alone, you’ll never grief alone
What has become of us?
There is a monster up in the mountains, mother. I don’t know what happened, but I think my brother went there too. After 20 days, you hold a scrap of cloth between your fingers. You pick out the crimson, the dry blood. It belongs to him. You bought this shirt when he turned 17.
What have I ever taught him about older brothers?
You’ve never seen my tongue cleaning my hands of his blood. I rise, I persevere. The monster in the mountains carries my name in his mouth and my blood in his veins. If you had known, maybe you would have stopped me. But I’m your brother too. And once I was a hungry God.
Was it him that killed me, or did I kill him?
How cruel it is to be born together and die apart. He’s a bruise still bleeding under healed skin, a bloodline drained with a shroud, a shadow that clings to my old clothes.
Fune wo Amu (2016)
✴ ooooooof
@laviteae summoned deathfor some heartache. SELECTIVELY OPEN.
Duncan has never been good with beginnings. Perhaps, if one were to trace him back, all trails would lead to one warm day when a leaf fell off a tree and he was made out of his parents’ first kiss. Many springs have passed since. But when has he started to know what all of this means? When was the beginning of her? Of them together?
The seasons changed. And one spring morning he woke up with a full garden blooming in his chest. The seeds were planted many years ago, he realizes eventually. One day, those feelings swept in through a window he forgot to close, like shy prayers, that’s what her fingertips feel on his skin. And now, Hana permeates his every thought.
The seasons change. Today, he finds himself wanting to share his every living moment with her, uninteresting and trivial. He rehearses his thoughts, over and over again until the simple phrase “I bought chocolate for you” becomes an incoherent word-salad.
But that doesn’t throw him off.
If love is like the box of chocolate he has picked out from a shop, then it should be shared.
He arrives at the police station, a proud and threatening building. And with him arrives reality like an uninvited guest. As soon as he has been swept off his feet by chocolate and the promise of kisses, the reality of his situation catches up.
There she is, in the arms of a tall man, three-piece, charming smile. She laughs, and although they are too far from where Duncan stands to make up any sound, he can hear her familiar warm-summer laugh ringing in his ears. Muscle memory. His empty stomach is swirled by nausea, unrestrained and cruel, and he bites his tongue to stop it from forming half-regrets.
If only, if only, if only. Taunting. Cruel. Wrong.
They kiss as lovers do under the cover that no eyes are watching. But Duncan is watching. And he is overpowered by heartache and despair. His fingers dig deeply into the paper box until he notices, and lets go.
The seasons change and Duncan, young and cursed, forever stays the same, tempted by the sharp edges of love, beyond the promise of trite sentimentality.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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surprise, fellow kids. I bet you thought you’d seen the last of grmrper
SEND ME ✴ FOR MY CHARACTER'S REACTION TO SEEING YOURS KISSING SOMEONE ELSE
@laviteae 👀
St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City (Baraka, 1992)
Gucci Tennis shoes, running from your issues. If this isn't Charles Kangmae Hayes
. . . c r o s s r o a d s of time – akin to red strings of fate – bring souls together under the glistening blanket weaved by nyx. strings of sentences leave parted petals; a harmonious ballad the mortals will , in another lifetime , call a m y t h. for darling !! who would think two hearts so strange, so queer, so terribly p o l a r would unite in this plane of time amongst so many other universes ?? fate has a whimsical way of working , and ours is yet to be written.
literate. selective. follow for a friend. ( promo cr. @darkrpsd )

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Big oof, lost the motivation to write for today, so I’ll just watch some creepy pastas and go to sleep. I’ve also made Haru’s plot more elaborate and decided on details on his brothers.