#fmorrison

ㅤㅤ" all you have to do is kill one of your friend's and i'll be your girlfriend. " deadpan expression was evidence enough that she wasn't joking, purposefully prodding at the healing wound she'd carved beneath his collar bone. " i thought you were serious, frank. "

want to know about a song on my muse's playlist? send in a 🎧 & i'll randomly pick a song along with which lyrics i think symbolize them the most! -- except I'm giving you 3 because I couldn't pick one.

ㅤㅤㅤBlood never bothered Julie. She supposed that was a good thing, finding herself here. At least she wasn’t alone, Frank was there too, and somehow, their cat managed to follow them here too, but Shadow stayed out of the trails, he didn’t need to see this Julie had decided. 

ㅤㅤㅤThey were in the middle of a match, normally they’d each take half of the map, but they managed to catch each other looking for the latest target. Apparently, they were the last one, and since Frank was taller, he got there first, so she stood back and watched him do what he did best. Her knife was held casually in her hand. “Looking good, babe.” She cooed once the screaming and struggling stopped, now moving to sit on her knees beside him, pushing her mask up and letting it rest on the top of her head. 

ㅤㅤㅤShe was about to say something else when Frank dipped his finger into one of the various stab wounds, drawing a heart on her cheek. Julie chuckled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Aren’t you just so romantic?” There was no sarcasm, she meant it when she said it.

ㅤㅤㅤJulie’s head shook. Frank sat on top of the man, knife poised to plunge into the man. “No, baby, let me see it.” She whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let me show you I won’t love you any less.” She whispered, putting a hand over his hand that held the knife. “Do it, Frank.” She said before she stepped away, letting go of the knife to let him continue.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Kill him for me.”

this place? it made her skin crawl. rather it be because the entity wasn't kind enough to give her a jacket. the only thing that seemed to protect her from the elements was the fact she had a black zip up hoodie she had worn on her cigarette break. it was the only thing that was protecting her bare arms from the elements. her scrub pants? certainly not thick enough. her poor toes? frozen as the snow seemed to melt into her shoes. she could still see her breath, the paper mask that covered her face barely keeping her poor nose warm. normally, she'd be wearing her hair up but long, blonde hair seemed to double as a scarf, keeping her neck and torso warm as it cascaded down to her waist.

icy blue eyes roll whenever frank takes a few steps closer, tongue clicking angrily on the roof of her mouth. almost like a warning. eyes watch his knife carefully, moving as he flung it into the air and caught it. fling into the air, catch, fling, catch, fling, catch, fling-----. "i'm not a sore loser," she'll finally speak, the exhaustion in her voice. though, she knows what she has to do. she knows that she's got to go run off with frank and get the job done. the thought alone causes her to pull down her mask, bringing an unlit cigarette up to her lips as she fumbled for her lighter. yeah, she was a stress smoker and guess what? she was always fucking stressed.

"oh, would you shut up?" words are muffled slightly as she finally finds her lighter, lighting the cigarette before inhaling and pulling it away. the exhale was shaky, still staring at the knife. something that once threatened her but now? not so much. she had her own weapon in her pocket.

perhaps mapplethorpe was really playing with fire here. though, a part of him knew that he'd just wake up at the bonfire. he always did. the entity obviously wanted to keep him around for whatever reason. their very own doomed jester. a form of entertainment. hell, he had the gull to boop the smiling mask in front of him. he liked frank. you know, whenever he wasn't threatening him with a knife. ( maybe in a different world, they could have been friends. )

his smile only falters a little bit whenever frank grabs at his wrist, a grunt leaving him whenever he's suddenly spun around and his arm pinned to his back. he'll blink rapidly, head turning as curls fall into his face and obscure his vision. he'll wince at the pain shooting up his shoulder, fingers flexing as he was bent slightly forward. "i don't know. kinda cute how you wanna touch me so bad." he's going to probably regret that but he'd be damned if frank got the best of him. // @fmorrison

She could mirror that sentiment. She shared everything with him, her likes and dislikes, anything and everything. For him, she was an open book. The story of her life sitting comfortably in his hands. Her lips turned up into a genuine smile, moving between his legs and sinking down, sitting on her knees in front of him. “I hope you know I feel the same way.” She whispered, reaching up to place her hand against his cheek. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t tell you… you make me feel comfortable.” She admitted, moving her hand and putting her head on his leg. “I give you every chance to destroy me, but you don’t… and I trust you not to.” She tilted her head a bit to give him another smile. “I think, I’m only the real me when I’m with you.” She admitted.