#ragesense

﹝sms: bug-eyed hermano﹞ wait ... ﹝sms: bug-eyed hermano﹞ there is a solution segment to this conversation? ﹝sms: bug-eyed hermano﹞ we talking actual solution? ﹝sms: bug-eyed hermano﹞ or a half-baked one?

Cole rumbles a hum as he looms over Peter's shoulder, watching the window of pixelated colors flicker and flash as the man taps through his camera reel. The button click, click, clicks. Dynamic shots: Bull and bull rider suspended in air, dirt cascading upwards in a frenetic spray of confetti. 8 seconds is an awful long time on a bull, but Peter plucks something in an eye's blink and manages to immortalize it forever.

THE SHARP PAIN RADIATES ALL OVER, : CONSUMING EVERY SENSE SHE HAS. yet she does not stop, ... clicks of her heels echo 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, shadows embracing her figure. her breaths slow, heavy, SHARP CANINES BITING DOWN UPON SILVERTONGUE, TO CONTAIN THE PAINFUL HISSES. one of her hide - outs was not too far, 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 to this feline who desperately needed to lick her wounds. one hand crossed over to her right side to hold it, as if it alone could stop the crimson from dripping, the other resting against the wall of the building.

@ragesense asked:

001, a convenience store past midnight. || Set the mood (accepting)

Bleary eyes cast downward in a wince as the tinkle of the store's bell split through her cloudy mind to the underlying migraine. Exhausted limbs ached, a deep, thrumming throb that came with too little sleep and were only mildly soothed by the walk to the party store in the dark of midnight. The store clerk greeted her with a vague grunt, Lena offering only a nod in reply, as she stumbled her way back toward the brightly-lit coolers with energy drinks and caffeinated teas displayed proudly. It was a habit she had worked to kick since retiring, the addicting rush of her second, third, or fourth energy drink getting her through late nights and early mornings. Unfortunately, desperate times, desperate measures, and without a second of hesitation Lena plucked a familiar can from the shelves. Two days of slipping in and out of sleep, being woken by dreams she didn't care to remember, had done everything to haggard the soul.

So focused on the music in her earbuds and plucking a few bucks from her wallet, Lena didn't look up when something crashed outside. If anything, the noise of chaos was more apt to help her sleep. The world was too quiet these days.

Tossing the bills on the counter, Lena gave another nod to the cashier who appeared focus on whatever was happening outside of the poster-papered windows. Orange flickered, flames catching along the body of the twisted hunk of metal, and something in her stomach lurched at the smell of burning fuel. She had just turned to ask the cashier what was going on, hand draped lightly over the bar labeled push, when the door pulled open of its own accord.

The question fell in unison from both Lena and the otherwise silent cashier.

a playful eye roll, tight smile on lips. technically yes, today though? there isn't much claire can share even though peter has been so generous to fill in with taking pictures of the event at terrasave headquarters since her usual co-worker had gotten sick and warned of their absence last minute. "i don't know what to say, you should ask chris."

in his search, a leaflet of torn notebook paper drifts to the linoleum, there's a smear of ROSEATE LIPSTICK to the center of the page, accented with a whiff of perfume, ⅋ 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴, 𝓜𝓙 .ᐟ scribbled just at the foot.

𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴, 𝙻𝙴𝚃 𝙼𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 { . . . } @ragesense.