#blodaux

I’M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR YOUR SELFIES

[It’s a strange thing for the season of winter to be surrounded by beautiful flowers but here she is, stooped down with a basket on her arm yet every flower she picks is dry and dead. Regardless, she treats them as if they are the most beautiful ones and every now and again she brings one up to her nose and breathes it in with a soft smile, her eyes downcast.]

[you

i love u

Tagged by: oftwigsandbones you fucking nerd ily Tagging: oh gosh regeneratingdegenerate annnnnnd blodaux(i know we haven't really interacted yet but you're awesome and i'd rly like to!!)

BASICS:

Name: alison, allie  Preferred Pronouns: she/her Sexuality: bisexual Zodiac Sign: leo Taken or Single: married to the mob Three Facts: 1. i’m eXTREMELY shy like if i follow you and don’t know you well i have probably stared at your blog in intimidation/terror   2. i work in transportation/urban planning research despite having a “useless english degree” 3. my life revolves around this little 12-pound furry shithead (her name's savannah)

EXPERIENCE:

How long (months/years?): on tumblr?? honestly i don’t even know, i first got started ~3 years ago but i have not spent remotely that long having active blogs lmao. irl, about 13 years. on skype, about 2 years (((((((((: How’d you start: oh god on tumblr i got involved with a group who wanted to rp out this particular comic book arc and it probably could’ve went better but i got to write illyana (who i’ve adored since i was a teenager) and this big demon fucker called n’astirh. irl, i played some world of darkness in high school and then later got into 7th sea/GURPS games of various genres  Worst experience: ehh idk i don’t want to get into the worse-ish thing so i’ll just say helplessly trying to start up an old character of mine from city of heroes and failing every time (through no one’s fault but my own, i have this awful inability to find people and figure out what i’m doing with her)   Best experience: mEETING SARAH SHUT THE FUCK UP

MUSE PREFERENCES:

Female or Male: i’m comfortable with either and i like playing guys but i have a slight preference for female Original or Canon: i prefer original although i’ve probably technically had more canon characters (at least on tumblr) Favourite Face: oh god so many. clive standen, jason momoa, kristen stewart Least Favourite Face: ehhh  Multi or Single: single muse, singleship and i’ve only ever had single verses but i might not be opposed?? 

WRITING PREFERENCES:

From a distance, the nightly sounds of the city echoes. Everybody still contained within their own chores, some making their way to their homes. Amidst the swarms of people walking like slugs across a busy street, Kiko moves at a pace apart from everyone else.  He strides as if someone is out to get him, but that’s just how he normally moves, never missing a second. Every step he makes is calculated, makes it sure that he will not slip out of his posture. Which is why, eyes would fall towards his direction as he passes everyone, saying “Excuse me” one at a time, when his psyche allows him to. Speaking to strangers is not something he’s really fond of. Aside from that, having to be surrounded by these people taking their time in walking, as if every second is not important, Kiko feels constricted. He just wants to be free of this nightmare. Little does he knows, the nightmare is just about to start.

           Once he is able to ease his way from the crowd of turtles, he felt emancipated and celebrated it with a deep breath followed by a small satisfied smile. Now the busy street has been put behind him as he makes his way to a much more serene street, with only the streetlamps as the crowd to fill the silence of the streets. But as he walks further, he begins to hear something: voices. At first he simply ignores it, thinking that it was just from the footsteps that he was making. Besides, the street was silently deafening. It could be something scary, but this street has been a part of the place he calls home—too familiar to cause fear for him. Yet, there was a different feel in the air as he comes near the block where his house stands. It is as if déjà vu chants its spell to him. Then he stops. A movement catches his peripheral, and the moment his head turns to see what it is; terror begins to course through his veins when a pair of eyes dangerously directed towards him, with a hint of a sinister smile at edges of the other’s lips, as he takes a last stab on the unrecognizable body, now drenched in their own blood.

           With the knife still in the man’s blood laced hand, he begins to draw forward Kiko, like a predator carefully calculating its prey’s movements. But before the man can even pounce on him, Kiko dashed towards his home. As he did, Kiko feels as if the distance towards his home and from where he was, stretched. It was as if the surroundings are at the man’s favour, and he won’t be able to escape. But he has to. Isabelle will be coming to visit, and what if the man will string him along while he kills him. That’s something he cannot afford to happen. It doesn’t matter for him if his legs were already aching by walking such a long way and then running like he has been shot by adrenaline. What matters is, he’ll be able to come home and convince himself that he will be safe there. That Isabelle will also be safe. In a few months, they’ll be husband and wife—better start taking on the role of a good husband.

           Fear continued to burst through his system that he could feel every limb in his body to vibrate and making him a bit a klutz while he attempts to unlock his door. His breathing is uneven, thinking that the man isn’t that far away and at any moment will grasp him by the neck. He could already feel the warmth coming from another body temperature. But before it got worse, Kiko eventually is able to open the door and slams it behind him. He doesn’t like it, the sound of a door slamming. It only adds to his fear and suddenly begins to mentally regret having his door closed the way it did. Slowly, however, his breathing becomes more placid like the corners of his home enveloping him to comfort. Kiko closes his eyes, letting all of the tension in his body loose. Then he looks out the window and the streetlights are all there is. A sigh of relief escapes his lips and he lets go of the image that may halt on haunting him now, but it would in the coming days.

           With all that had happened today, the exhaustion comes creeping back to him—the kind of exhaustion he has been carrying with him for weeks now. There is this lingering heaviness in him that he cannot really point a finger on. He shakes his head, trying to free himself of thoughts causing for this heaviness to linger. Taking a deep breath, Kiko finds his composure and feels in-control once more. His eyes then scan the living room, as if there is something that had changed, when it’s simply the same as the one he left this morning. So he craned his head to the other side of his home, expecting to see the face he has been waiting for.

           “Isabelle? Are you here?” He then bellows for her, like a child craving for its mother. When no one answered, he motions toward the kitchen. To his dismay there is no trace of the one he is calling. For some unknown reason, he could feel his hand shaking. Even his heart begins to pound, just like the kind of feeling he got upon entering his home—after his very brief encounter with Death. His breathing becomes uneven once more. This time, all he wanted to do is lay his head in hopes that all of these heightened feelings would disappear. Without getting out of the clothes he has been wearing since that morning, sleep has taken him into its welcoming arms. But before he goes to deep in his slumber, he awakens at the sudden touch he knows so well. Despite the familiarity, his eyes still shot up out of surprise, as if this is something that shouldn’t be happening. As a response, his body turns towards to face the other side of the bed, on which Isabelle lays. Relief and surprise was apparent on his face at that moment. However, it slowly morphed into look of uncertainty and confusion as her voice filled the silence of the air surrounding them.

“Why? Why did you do this to me Kiko?” Isabelle’s voice sounds like a merge of plea and hatred. Kiko’s voice is nowhere to be found. His lips are moving but the words he wants to say seems stuck deep in his gut—caged there with the key unavailable. At a distance, he can hear something blaring. He isn’t sure whether it is a thunderous high-pitch laugh so sinister, he could feel the chills trace a line through his spine. Or that it is simply a collection of voices coming out of nowhere. This makes him cringe, puts his palms on his ears, protecting them from the ear-splitting noises then closes his eyes. Then the noises seem to diminish, he slowly takes his hands away. But he feels something moist, warm and sticky smudge in his palms. Looking at it, he cannot believe what he sees: Blood. And with that, Isabelle begins to speak again, only this time instead of words coming out of her lips—it is blood gushing out of and from the slit in her throat. Kiko jerks away from her with so much terror he falls toward the floor. But before his back collides with the wooden floor, the next thing he knows is the sun greeting him and the alarm blaring at his bedside table.

Still trapped in his heightened emotions, Kiko pushes himself up from his bed, feeling the cloth of his pajamas sticks on skin by the sweat caused by that nightmare. Even with the alarm blaring at the background, Kiko isn’t doing anything to stop it. Though, it definitely irritates his ears. He hates the sound of the alarm. But he doesn’t put it out, knowing that this is his only evidence that reality is where he’s in now. He then looks at his hands. His eyes already expect to see what he had seen, but there is nothing there. His hands are clean. Yet, he feels unclean, somewhere inside of him. Sadly, the heaviness he is carrying for weeks continues to latch on him, like a leech draining every energy and sanity he possesses. And it will probably grow and grow as days come by.

He stands before the mirror in his bathroom. For a while, he stares at his reflection. Questions begin to arise while he intently looks at the wholeness of his face, trying to figure out something. Then the look of the man he saw last night pops behind him, he jumps as he turns to see, his hand placed on his chest, as if protecting his heart to jump out of its cage. Yet, there is no one there. So he takes a deep breath and shakes his head, hoping that this will clear any residue of last night’s image. He hates this routine so much, calming himself. However, if he doesn’t do it, he’ll probably blackout. Blackouts are never really good. There will be no certainty what had happened. There will be no certainty of who holds the body.

Finally, Kiko feels in-control again after coming out of the shower and put himself together for work. “You’ll be alright. You’ll be alright.” He incessantly chants to himself, it’s already part of his routine. Before he finally goes out for work, he was stalled by the sound of the doorbell. This makes one of his eyebrows raise in curiosity, though his boyish face still looks like he is lost somewhere.

Cautiously, he opened the door. At first he expects it will be Isabelle. After that dream, he could feel his chest getting tighter and tighter, the kind of stuffiness when a secret keeps on building up. To his disappointment, it is not Isabelle. It is her cousin though, who seems to look problematic at this early hour. He doesn’t mind it at all, although he is concerned. His eyebrows creased trying to figure the other out why such expression appeared on her face. He swallowed before speaking.

“Good morning Kaye, why are you here so early? Did Isabelle send you?” His words are immediately followed by a childish smile, like he is about to get a prize. At the mention of Isabelle’s name, Kiko notices that the expression on Kaye’s face becomes much graver than it already is. Kaye cannot hold anymore the boiling emotion in her and suddenly breaks into a cry. This makes Kiko very anxious. What makes him anxious even more is at the other side of the street, he sees him there—the man from last night. His eyes widens as he saw him intently looking at his direction with the same sinister smile on his face. Fear overtakes the feeling of concern he has for Isabelle’s cousin. It doubled when the man begins to stride towards their direction. So he urged Kaye to go inside. Kaye follows with a questioning look appearing on her tear-soaked face. She looks at the direction where he is looking and shots him a look of confusion.

OKAY BUT LIKE YOU’RE REALLY ATTRACTIVE AND I AM REALLY DISTRESSED!!!!!!!