jesuis christ

        “Okay–but this is definitely illegal.” Then again, she’s already half in, and definitely expects a leg up to make it the rest of the way. Part of him knew that if he hadn’t had been dead, a lost spirit stuck to her for the time being, then he would be a hell of a lot more adamant about staying on the right side of the law. “How is this real fun, again?” Without warning he makes an attempt to lift her up.

              ❝ oh, it’s lovely to meet you, dorothy. i’m OLIVER, let me take you instead. ❞ he’s already done with this kid’s bullshit. not caring about her protest, tom keeps his hand on her back as he pushes her rather urgently into the café, though it looks nothing but nice to anyone on the outside. once inside, overplayed pop music and loudly held conversations surrounding them, he leans in a little. ❝ i want my wallet back. ❞ the friendliness is no longer lacing his voice, and got replaced by hiss instead as the words drop like venom from his lips. ( the hand still resting dangerously on her back. ) ❝ it can go two ways. one: you give me back my wallet and we both go our separate ways       or two: you don’t give me back the wallet and i’ll let everyone here know that you ROBBED me. it’ll take the police less than five minutes to get here. ❞ he may or may not know this from experience, but… that’s not the point. the point is, she has his wallet and he wants it back. now.

              ' a pleasure that’s returned, OLIVER... huh ? oh... wow, y’er such a gentleman, don’t find guys like you in the city much, d’ya ? ’ her soft voice is betrayed by a JAGGED undertone, her almost contorting into a sulky sneer. she pissed because she knows he’s caught her, the fact he’s so adamant about his hand placement tells her that much; macy loathes losing. her mind races, mismatch eyes darting around the place trying to locate some INSPIRATION. upon hearing his next words, macy’s act upgrades to BUTTER-WOULDN’T-MELT. with a sugar sweet smile, macy beamed up at the guy, practically exuded innocence and charm. ‘ oh, d’ya reckon that now ? ’ there is a pause in which she allows herself look amused, moving to ut her hands in her back pockets, rocking idly on her heels. ‘ that’s tough ‘un love but ya’know... ’ there a moment of hesitation; she tries not to show it but he’s got her caught right now and she’s only really got the first option viable for her. but goddamn it he’s annoyed her by CATCHING her, she refuses to make this easy for him. 

       ' STOP ASKING ME ABOUT THE MIDDLE AGES HOLLY; I LITERALLY DIED LAST MONTH U INSENSITIVE CRETIN !! ’

❛   YOU SURE WHAT YOU’RE DOING RIGHT NOW ISN’T ILLEGAL ? SURE FEELS LIKE IT IS.......   ❜

                       ❛   THE LAW IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT WHEN IN REALITY THERE ARE NO RULES, BUT TO 'AVE NO RULES MEANS TO 'AVE NO STRUCTURE AN’ WI’VOUT STRUCTURE WE REALISE 'OW MEANIN’LESS OUR OWN EXISTENCE IS, SEE ? IT’S ALL CHILL !   ❜

❛   AH, SO IT IS IN FACT ILLEGAL AS FUCKERY.... GOD I’M GLAD I’M DEAD...   ❜

                      ❛   GOOD POINT IF YA’ ‘ADN’T DIED YA’D ‘AVE NEVER MET ME !   ❜

       A sigh. She’s honestly the most exhausting person he’s ever met; but he wouldn’t trade being dragged to a leisure centre at two in the morning by some sort of soul bond for the whole world. “I don’t know if that’s how life works …” Then again, what did he know?

                dying again? no, not an option. absolutely not! he was insistent about that, but then, he couldn’t smell himself, could he? it wasn’t quite corpse-like though, but more like rotting fruit— all the magic she’s been testing out must have done something in terms of trying to correct the smell. was rotting fruit much better than rotting flesh though? “s’why i’sa threat— get it? yer s’posed to be threatened by the potentiallity of a zombie outbreak!” there he goes again, making up words.

*STARTER FOR @ledepareilles!

           “I don’t think thats legal.” As he eyes the girl with a cautious look, he decides against chastising her, and just gives the other a gentle frown.

                                    The wait seemed torturous, then again, he couldn’t be certain that anyone was home, it wasn’t like he’d been to these parts before and judging by the place, he didn’t want to be here either. If it wasn’t for his twisted vision of fun, he wouldn’t end up in areas like these, yet it always seemed worth it, in the end. After another minute or at least he thought it was a minute, he was about to leave, find another poor bastard to drop a sob story on to get himself out of trouble, but then finally, he’d been “welcomed” by someone answering the door. And he wouldn’t blame her for keeping the chain on, smart thinking, really.

“I am, but please, there was a fire just a bit away from here, think police and shit are investigating and I was wondering if you could let me in for a bit? I could really do with a quick rest, or something. I won’t be a bother, promise.”

                                    IF HE WAS LOOKING FOR her heart to melt like butter instantaneously and welcome him with  arms open as wide as her smile, he was sorely disappointed. instead he was countered with a skeptical expression, only flickering to a distasteful one when registering the POIGNANT odor around the man. internally her cogs were in overdrive, trying to add up why the bastard would be running from the police over a fire, if he was oh so innocent. simple answer: he wasn’t. that was all macy had to go from, ergo she could only work under the assumption that he was dangerous and ruthless (arson wasn’t for the light hearted after all) and personally she thought it would make sense to appease him for the time being. 

@ledepareilles

                                        Lying would seem to be his only escape now, with ash and the heavy stench of fire on his clothing, he couldn’t admit that he’d just burnt someone alive ( along with their home ), but it was trying to find a place to get himself cleaned up that seemed to be an issue. He couldn’t return home, especially since cops may look for him there, although, that was paranoia. 

Though, a stranger’s home could perhaps work, they didn’t know who he was or what he’d just done, perfect place to put on his innocent persona and get just what he wanted. He didn’t care which house he’d dragged himself to, but he knocked almost frantically on the door, as if he’d just saw something terrifying, it was all a waiting game, to see if he could get his way out of this now.

“Please — please, open up!”

                                      WHY DID ROLLING CIGGIES AND JOINTS always make her sneeze ? it drove her insane but, alas, she'd only do it when her roommates were paralytic from booze and whatever cheap ass drugs they’d gotten their grubby hands and she had dragged them to their room, because like FUCK did she trust the bastards enough to show them where she hid her stashes. because roommates was too strong a word. truly this was a matter of convenience; a group of homeless kids making ends meet in the narrows. 

the sudden banging on the door sent tobacco flying. macy was by no means a antsy person but people didn’t just go about knocking on doors in one of the dodgiest neighbourhoods around at the early hours of the morning. at any rate she wanted the person to go away, but fuck they were persistent. eventually she had to stand, quickly packing away her roll ups and lightly tiptoeing to where her crumpled up jacket lay on the futon and slipped it on ( purely because of the switchblade hidden in an inside pocket. on her way to the door she quietly shoved her boots on, yanking the laces tightly and pushing the laces  into the sides. hey, if the person was a threat she’d be fucking off faster than lightning and leaving the others in the dust.

also me, whos a bit less of a dumbass: u literally just have to copy and paste most of them from the single muses stop being dramatic