#402apt

you are gabriel. and you make the fucking weirdest noises over the phone. and you love sal fisher. and if given a quarter of a chance, you would fuck a cryptid. 

❝  AW,  MAN,  THAT’S  FUCKIN’  SICK  !  keep  that  shit  away  from  me  ——  i  already  have  to  put  up  with  one  reich  -  ass  nasty  squag  fucker  and  he’s  bad  enough  !  ❞ 

❝  oh,  sal  ?  he’s  a  sweet  kid.  i  don’t  have  any  idea  what  he’s  on  about  half  the  time  and  i’m  afraid  i  miss  most  of  his  jokes  but  he’s  fun  to  talk  to.  it’s  not  often  you  meet  someone  who  doesn’t  find  me  utterly  disturbing,  so  we  have  that.  i  think  he  knows  more  about  ghosts  than  i  do.  ❞

THERE WERE MANY different types of teenagers at ericson’s boarding school from troubled youth; and they were all so different and unique, which was honestly what was so endearing about the place. every person that clementine had spoken to had a completely different view on the world and each a different affect on clementine herself. she now stands a few feet behind one of the students she hasn’t spoken to yet, the boy with the blue hair. she sits down on the steps next to him in an awkward silence; glancing away at the same time. being on the road for so long had really had its effect on her social skills, so she started with a simple greeting.  ❝ . . i’m clementine ❞ // @402apt

❝        and         did         you         do       it  ?           ❞              there       is     no      hiding      from     the      serpent’s        eye        once        you’ve         taken        a        bite       -------       that        chunk       of      supple       redness        will         be        stuck       between       your        teeth       ‘till        they      rot         &         fall       off       your       bleeding        gums  ,           but           it         can’t        smell     it   -------   that        putrid    ,           pungent        scent        of        decaying        guilt        inside      him   .             the        boy        smells      like       dirt  ,         just       dirt  ,         and       flowers  ,        and        sorrow  .      ❝         —–   i’ll   believe           whatever       you          tell        me  .          ❞

likes, comments and subscribes.

fair warning: i am a very sore loser 

grell sets her boots aside and beckons sal forwards ; hugging him without a word.