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@killtothrill-archive
If you think weāre still friends after youāve been blocked on every social media in existence, then I hate to say it chief but

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shadowtonguedā:
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āĀ YOUāRE REALLY PUTTING THE PRESS on me arenāt you?ā Sliske starts, melodic voice amused at the sheer impatience and readiness to just SPRING into action. āI wasnāt assuming today but ā I suppose I can clear my calendar for today. HOWEVER,Ā I doubt I can go as is, you know, this, Iāve had enough trysts with tiny furniture and stooping to fit in doorways. Iāll have to slip into a little more snug of skin. Doesnāt hurt, only a few are really AWARE of my double life,ā without any real explanation to his RAMBLING, Sliske easily yawns stretches out his arms above his head as if leisuring on a vacation, a low grunt, and pinched eyes accompanying his carefree movement. After his feline display of teeth, an innate ability almost as simple as breathing lets loose a quick illusion, the shining akin to a hot air off the asphalt DWARFING himself into a human glamour. Two-toned hair, dusky skin, the same VIBRANT eyes, and wrinkle of nose remain despite the factor that he otherwise looks so utterly normal. Well, other than the factor that men donāt wear makeup or preen to the degree he has.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI made it myself,ā Sliske says in the same way a proud child would. āIt does well when I need it. ā Anyways, I can walk NOW without being an eight-foot terror, covered head to toe, and having to state āIām an athlete hiding from the paparazziā, or at least thatās what James and I came up with,ā he chuckles.
Expectant and the more he spoke, the longer he dragged this out did little to help wane her avidity. He could spare some of the words, in her correct opinion, because even though he had agreed and theyād their terms stated, he wasnāt helping. Had a feeling he already knew that.Ā
To her, his transformation akin to a snake shedding its skin, and shock is followed by something somewhere been confusion and an unease. She doesnāt like it, this look. Or is she simply not adjusted to it? That voice shouldnāt come out of that mouth, and the best heās done is distracted her from the previous matter. She has to sort through this, arms crossed over her chest and near narrowed eyes, she could almost feel bad, he seems proud and sheās put off. Perhaps itās the fact sheāll no longer have to speak like sheās yelling up at the sky. Perhaps itās the knowing that thereās missed opportunities for him to smack his forehead into door frames, disappointing. Perhaps sheāll get over it by the time they reach the restaurant. āThatās what they were doing.Ā
Biting her cheek, and sheās torn between curiosity of the knife and what she just witnessed. Settling on the former, they could discuss the latter as they walked. Sheād drop confusion and unsettle for a lesser of her earlier impatience. A step back yet completed, āSo weāre ready to go then, yeah? Well, letās go,ā a turn on her heel and sheād not wait for him to head out.
@heroicksĀ said, āHis intention had once been to assess the damage wrought by blood magic, to help Verin back up. Yet his stray hand remains with the lingering closeness between the two. Thumb and index comes to rest just beneath her chin, and inclines her to look up at him. "Know you don't gotta throw yourself after me. " he says; drifting closer, closer. "Remember, I'm the guy with demon blood already in him. " Short beat passes and he brushes his lips against her own in slow composed kiss.ā
A litany ofĀ āIām fineās chased his help, and while theyād gotten passed her outright rejecting him, gratitude was far from her features. Sheād come across exasperated if lightheadedness hadnāt hit her the moment she was on her feet. The smallest bit cross internally, itās exaggerated in furrowed brows and pressed lips, sheād still his other arm for balance. The second she felt certain enough in her footing, sheād push herself away.
Half expecting some reprimand for what was blatant carelessness, sheād set herself on the defensive, eyes narrowed a moments away from a glare and then heās tilted her head up. ---She hates the way he wears his worry. Even if her gaze does soften, she spites it. His words worse, concerns that ring in her ears. She hates that he cares, hates it because it makes her care. Yet by now he knows better to give her a chance to complain and if he knew her even better, heād hold her by the back of her neck.Ā
Temperament typically unkempt and yet sheāll press herself into him, close any remaining distance and come up to the balls of her feet and press against him. Count a few seconds before pushing herself away from him, shaky in a step, balance far from footing, against better judgement. They had their fun, counted into five exacting moments,Ā āAnd you know I donāt need your lecture on the subject, Iāll do as I please and I deigned myself to follow after your dumbass.ā
imco
in my correct opinion

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caliburntā:
LEVITYĀ ABOUTĀ THEĀ Ā ā WHAT-IFS āĀ Ā ISĀ Ā BITTERSWEET,Ā asĀ grinĀ cracksĀ overĀ theĀ bluntĀ edgesĀ ofĀ hisĀ face. TheĀ spitfireĀ youthĀ heĀ hadĀ beenĀ andĀ stillĀ is,Ā steelĀ weaponĀ ofĀ hisĀ ownĀ designĀ inĀ handĀ toĀ strikeĀ first.Ā Ā AĀ constantĀ thought:Ā maybeĀ heĀ wouldāveĀ atĀ leastĀ triedĀ toĀ giveĀ herĀ aĀ chanceĀ toĀ getĀ outĀ ofĀ theĀ cityĀ beforeĀ theĀ orderāsĀ massesĀ stuckĀ theirĀ nosesĀ onĀ herĀ trail.Ā Ā VerinĀ theĀ onlyĀ oneĀ outsideĀ ofĀ KyrieĀ andĀ CredoĀ inĀ thisĀ damnĀ cityĀ heādĀ givenĀ twoĀ shitsĀ about.Ā HeĀ raisesĀ hisĀ leftĀ handĀ inĀ dismissiveĀ wave,Ā beforeĀ digitsĀ curlĀ towardsĀ hisĀ palmĀ andĀ digĀ tightĀ intoĀ hisĀ skin.Ā
Ā āĀ Right,Ā Ā āĀ Ā aĀ begrudgingĀ reply,Ā expressionĀ smoothingĀ over,Ā Ā āĀ sureĀ IĀ wouldnātĀ haveĀ madeĀ aĀ fewĀ cindersĀ outtaĀ youĀ instead.Ā āĀ Ā
NoseĀ seemsĀ toĀ flairĀ atĀ theĀ latterĀ statement,Ā aĀ detailĀ forgottenĀ suddenlyĀ anĀ anchorĀ toĀ theĀ pitĀ ofĀ hisĀ heart;Ā onceĀ allĀ nodsĀ nowĀ shiesĀ toĀ hesitation.Ā Ā āĀ WeĀ canĀ stopĀ andĀ getĀ yourĀ fix,Ā yeah.Ā IāllĀ giveĀ NicoĀ theĀ heads-upĀ toĀ emptyĀ outĀ herĀ crapĀ inĀ theĀ fridgeĀ toĀ makeĀ roomĀ forĀ yours. āĀ Ā AbsenceĀ grows,Ā sownĀ byĀ preoccupationĀ inĀ hisĀ passingĀ sigh.Ā āĀ EverĀ toldĀ aĀ girlĀ youāreĀ goingĀ downĀ toĀ hellĀ before?Ā DonātĀ thinkĀ sheāllĀ stopĀ meĀ butĀ Ā āĀ āĀ DownĀ toĀ recessesĀ ofĀ theĀ demonĀ world,Ā crossingĀ throughĀ theĀ cesspitĀ ofĀ demonsĀ andĀ devilsĀ heāsĀ neverĀ onceĀ ventured.Ā Ā ā ā- TrustĀ me,Ā weāreĀ gonnaĀ needĀ thatĀ day.Ā ā
āYou canāt now, and you couldnāt then, youād be wrong to think you ever could.ā They could bicker back and forth all they wanted; the truth was, that unless theirĀ camaraderie was not only shattered into pieces, but grinded down into a fine dust as well, they would never know who would win in a fight. Even then would it be unlikely for them because sheād see herself leaving, disappearing into the world to avoid vindication from either side. ---She could and would most definitely win in hypotheticals.
āDonāt make me sound like some addict, I donāt make you out to be one every time you down a glass of water.ā Short in her tone, heās more right than wrong, and sheās to wonder if thatās how he copes with the idea sheās downing blood. Had to be more than grateful heād never tried to steal any of her drinks in the past, that would have been difficult to explain away, though now would it be anything besides hilarious?
āFrom prior experience, Iāll say sheāll probably be shocked, enough to doubt the reality of it.ā A much different situation than the one he was going to walk into and if he was looking for any advice or support, heād need to search elsewhere. Her own experience a matter of answering the questionĀ āwhere are you going?ā withĀ āto hell, where I belongā and things were hardly comparable.Ā
ā---And before we go to a hospital, preferably a nicer one, I do want to go get something to eat. Your choice of where.ā
verin turns 5 in a week!!!
She is not afraid of the darkest dark, in fact she can see in the dark. She is not afraid of offal, refuse, decay, stink, blood, cold bones, dying girls, or murderous hasbands. She can see it, she can take it, she can help.
Clarissa Pinkola EstĆ©s, from āWomen who Run with the Wolves,ā c. 1992 (viaĀ violentwavesofemotion)
@killjoytm said,Ā ācodeineās finally kicking in.ā
āYou took my fucking codeine? I meant you could have some fucking advil, or maybe a naproxen or two, not my fucking codeine.ā Consider her vexed but there was little she could do now, too late to take back her āhelp yourselfā when the other asked of painkillers it was too late to try and strangle the pills from her throat.
Rounding the couch, sheād refrain from the violence in her own throat and grab her phone off the coffee table as she passed. An exasperated huff and sheād have to get another prescription forged. Better to handle it now than forget, there were only a few left the last time she checked and while she doubted the other had offāed them, she was less than a few now.Ā
āNext time ask or youāre fronting the cost.ā
Iām not angry with you, I was being playful. I stabbed you with my fun knife

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@4-6-4-1-9 continued from here.Ā
āItās fucking broken, an ice pack isnāt going to fix that.ā Her words came in a snap, sharp and scolding, and yet she couldnāt help but grimace when he dared to move. A singular strain of empathy; heās not her problem, heās not on her payroll,Ā better for her to leave, leave him on his own than help him along.Ā But that single strain is a virus, tucked into the corner of her cheek between her lips. Sheās still not going to drag him to a hospital or even cover the costs, best she can do is give him some options. Worst come to worst, she could broker a deal.
āYou need a fucking doctor is what you need so the way I see it you got two choices. You call an ambulance, head to the ER and then sneak out before youāve to pay. Or I can point you to a back alley clinic, though she only takes cash and chances are you donāt have enough for that... though I know a lender as well, if you taxi over to him and then the clinic you should be set.ā
from Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing, Margaret Atwood,Ā 1939.
@caliburnt said, XIX. The Sun ā Describe a happy moment in your museās life.
Itās in the ceiling, pressed in tight between the wavers of the wood, partitioned where brick and mortar meet; and it feels as if sheās never owned her own... anything. At least, nothing substantial. But this? This was real, mortar, brick, wood, and nails real. A building at least nine times her age.Ā And yet itād still need a few things before it was to be hers; an interior designer, a some landscaping, and a visit to several book stores to fill out the empty bookshelves in the drawing room on the first floor.Ā
And sheād fit herself in the crevices of the floor boards, tucked into the corners of the room, alone and sublime.

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garrotejimaā:
Ha! Got her. Heās insufferable, whittling at her patience as he is, but does there wear any pity on him? In that smile? Or what of that doting gaze, half cackle and bewilderingly sly? Majima laughs. It rumbles and tumbles and pitches low, low, ocean-low, and sheāll feel it down to the marrow of her ā right there, right where their ribs come to slot together, dredging up something animal like dread or love. Itās easily both with him. Majima palms her closer. The pace of his heart pitters away, all tip-tappy dreamlike, and his air screams nastily of troublesome alleyway cat. The googly-eye dampens the effect a bit ā but, hey, only by a sliver. He takes her wrists. āYup,ā the word pops. āAināt the type of handful where you oughta be complaininā about either, toots, and wouldnāt ya have it? Itās all yours.ā Oh. Ohhh. Heās settled her palms near his little rump, chin settling on the pretty jut of her collarbones. What an ass, for sure! His wit demands recompense for that. āānough to constitute two handfuls.ā
Heās drilling down through tissue and bone, heading for an open nerve, and her piqueās nearing palpable though it was yet to hit her features; filling in that empty space not only in that divot but any space between them. Her joke now smothered in it and heās her hands, sheās quick on the draw but not the trigger. She was only to catch on once he spoke, and nails would try to dig into inked flesh. Sheād roll her eyes once heād his head in the crook of her neck, hands to work their way a few inches above where he set them. Done playing along but she couldnāt settle for folding her hand, instead to ease into him, a two-tonne press for her four-tonne vexation. Taking a breather, remembering some part of her found him enjoyable, endearing even; sheād scoff,Ā āBarely. Your personalityās more than you, call it compensating.ā
CecĆlia Meireles, tr. by Natalie dāArbeloff, from Poems;Ā āContrary Moon,ā