#bloodsole

what it must be to have him peering at you , those heavy - lidded doe eyes . he’s your golden boy . how are you going to turn away your golden boy , when his palms are scarred and his heart is torn ? you think you used to be more powerful months ago . 

months ago . years ago . before you fell in love with a boy who was supposed to be harmless -- was it really love ? when he looks at you with those james - dean - eyes , you think , maybe not . maybe i was never in love . maybe i never left alo , maybe alo never left me . 

age is a strange thing . it’ll be your eighth year with alo in your bones -- or maybe he’s always been there . siblings . he makes the jokes under his breath -- remember when we were in portugal , and that lady thought we were twins or somethin’ ? you remember . you tip your head back and curl your digits into unruly hair . he needs a cut . i remember , you say with a faint laugh . i called you brother and made you snog me . 

eighth year with alo . twenty - fifth year on this earth . 

and you love him . you love him . you wonder how much time was wasted between you two , how much time you will continue to waste as you deny , deny , deny -- oh , but the power . the power . it’s not something you know how to give it up . 

you can give it up now , because you’re weak when those strong , scarred arms wrap around your too - narrow waist . you’re a bundle of bones and he’s in love with you . you can feel it in heart - shaped kisses pressed to your naval . in the way his voice dissolves , sweet , against your inner thigh . he speaks poetry with an ill - tongue . oh , god -- it’s fine to give it up now . 

how could another boy be meant for her ? maybe that’s why giving up christian felt natural . she misses her boy sometimes -- but this one , this one with his sad - boy gaze and his messy , stupid fucking hair . he needs her . 

happy birthday , bea . 

tilt of her head . cat eyes flicker as strong , calloused digits reach out -- grasp blindly at her pack of cigarettes . twenty - fucking - five . she lights her cigarette , a faint smile tracing her mouth . 

newage artemis . delilah discovered . priscilla breathes a small laugh , knowing he’s too good -- too good . her beloved samson . her apollo revived .

   sure! here you go! icons mainly for bloodsole , do not take without further permission from them!

 preview:

she’s been sitting here, frowning at him for the better part of a minute. is that rude? probably. maybe she should apologise.