Sep 22, 2024
post-crash shauna accidentally saying jackie’s name while having sex with jeff because they both have J names and shauna’s trauma influencing her obsession with jackie ?
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post-crash shauna accidentally saying jackie’s name while having sex with jeff because they both have J names and shauna’s trauma influencing her obsession with jackie ?
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@edensbite asked: you’re being followed , pretend you know me . / THE DUSTY TOYBOX: still accepting.
"What?" As if but a shadow, she has already claimed his side. On her, she bleeds something layered — the gourmand, he imagines — and the earthy, spring-time soak of a long filled grave.
Interesting. "And you decided my hero had to be you, did you?"
An idiot, then. But obeying, he, his sword clinking, is an idiot who listens.
In the failing of the late-evening gloam — gentle now, chased by the umbered glow of the lanterns — he can sense it: the low and seething glare of an angry tail. Oh. He hasn't made friends here, he knows that, having been but a thorn to the side of the resident cutthroats, and dressed as a black knight with his shimmering armor? He's a beacon. And looking down at her, this maid like dripped inkwell is glared at too. "You should've just left me to it." he says. Perhaps. His hackles rise. He can't help himself; he makes for his blade. God damned fool playing noble Lancelot— "Sakra. Stay with me." His heart gallops. "You mad?"
@edensbite (in response to this)
The casino germinated over the body of a dead church and now prospers in its ecosystem of slot machines and mango-twilight Vegas strips. It’s a crisp night, and all the boogeymen are out in droves, flooding the gambling dens with twinkling fangs and their goat eyes, playing their hands and smoking their e-cigarettes. Nicholas doesn’t belong.
He thinks Eden doesn’t, either. She barks a laugh that belies something else. It's bitter, maybe, the way medicine is, and makes her highway stretch of licorice hair even blacker. In the night, post-company and post-CEO, she could tepe herself in it where nothing, neither the ceiling lights, nor a phone screen, nor stars, could peek through. She is at last severed from the world.
“And is that what you think,” he asks her. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He had just officiated a shotgun wedding. Eden looks at his hand where a gold band could have been.
When she smiles, it never touches her eyes—Himalayan salt pink, like the insides have been scooped out. Nicholas wears a cross, pure silver, against his chest.
“Do you hate that you are.”
caught in the middle, aren’t you? the awkward transition from normal to something only real in books, and the shedded decades ( century? ) have done little to ease it. “ does it get easier ? ever ? ”
↬ a short starter for @edensbite.
"Let the dead bury their dead, they will come out in droves." // @edensbite ( thistles and weeds - mumford and sons )
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What does Henry care of monsters? He is but one himself, perverted well and mangled. Upon his thigh, he bears a scar that had every right to fell him that had but sprouted in him an anger and a wolf in his gut. Here, he had learned that fury's his inheritance, his keepsake he'd discovered passed lovingly by God, and goodness, there's not a man more pious, more dribbling with murder at the evening's vespers. He breathes head. Yes! What's a monster to boy who fled his home with his fangs?
Well, perhaps she's naught to kneel for, but Henry kneels.
It's all he's made for, really: loyalty. Like a dog. Like a mean, lone hound long worn of the quiet. All his life, he had lived it bounded to another and had labored mightily in the interest of fattening their wealth. By now, he has grown to doubt his betters, believing them but blustering, bloody cocks who would crow too loud, and he had but every right to think that, but every right to feel that as struck as he'd been. How mightily he would want it, a palm that'd mind his bruises and not rob him of home. Please. He would fight for them with honor, with fealty and hunger! A keeper. So, what if she's filled graveyards? All thrones do. May the coffins she tend to take Satan's foul host.
"It felt proper," Henry says. He kisses her finger. After all-- "Kings and the like have ought to look to their folk." How right. Knelt there, he looks thrust from the very epoch of chivalry, his mail shimmering to a shine with his gaze born honest. Evidently, he's not bottled up his feelings, had not hollowed out his body made his heart's mausoleum. And how the moon finds her body like it'd spill through the columns. Empty! Unless... He looks to her eyes like he'd spy dawn. "Isn't that what you do? I see them when you don't notice. You give them something." / @edensbite, continued from here.
shauna looks at jackie right before making love to jackie’s boyfriend. i donf even nwed to convunce you at this point
I can’t make rhaenyraaaa