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I haven’t been on this account in 3 (!!!) years, but last night I smoked and suddenly got the urge to log on! After going through a little scramble with my account email, I’m heeeeere.
Suddenly feeling a lot of my old muse for Violet!
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♊ ¤ §
♊ for my muse proposing to yours or
my muse’s reaction to yours proposing
He had been in the malls food court, eating a fast food burger when he heard a holler shush the crowd around him, everyone was stopped in their seats, on the floor with their flimsy trays balancing food that would only make their asses wider. Tate hesitantly looked around to find them all staring at him, at the girl climbing one of the tables beside him and smiling wide as she spoke something of getting engaged to the love of her life—And then….And then she pointed at him and jumped down putting her hands on the sides of his face and Tate choked on his food for a split second.She’s asking him if it’s okay and confused, blinking, curious, Tate swallows his choking hazard and smirks wide. “Why of course baby, why don’t we get married this weekend?” Calling her bluff, Tate leans in and presses a sweet sensual kiss to her lips. Try and trick him into a game and he’ll cheat his cards right back. Tate’s the only one playing a full house of aces, babe, even if he is sixteen, they can go somewhere. Get hitched.
He finishes his burger and grabs her hand, the two stroll down the mall to the cheapest store there, where they steal her a ring for her finger. “You really think this is a good idea?” Not that he’s backing out, Tate’s simply…Curious to see if she’s cowardly. If she backs out first, he wont seem ridiculous taking a step back and bothering to ask for her name, he has no idea who she is, all Tate knows is the look on her face and the way her raspberry flavored mouth opens and the harmony of her voice.Two kids, they don’t even know each other but there are people all over the world who know even less than they do that get married, live together, make babies. “My name’s Tate, by the way.” A nudge to the girls shoulder, smiling wide. “Just thought you should know your fiance’s name….” Soft laughter, everything was rushed, blindsided and now there they were, hand in hand, walking into the sunset. Tate could drive them, they could pack up and run away at dawn, get to know each other the drive there and if they don’t hate each other, they could forge a signature, get married and live happily crap after in a trailer park with seven fat fuck kids, he’ll even grow a mullet.
¤ for our muse’s wedding day
Feverish hands, fold and unfold, snapping fingers, patting his palms—This isn’t the best way to settle his nerves but he has on a thrift shop two dollar blue suite with ruffles, converse and his hair is slicked back enough to show his face and all the old bruises on Tate’s skin, he looks scared—-Poor kid probably is terrified, strutting, pacing back and forth at the alter, the room’s empty apart from the fake Elvis behind him, practicing his speech with his deep monotone voice.Tate desperately wants to tell him to shut up, break those sunglasses off his face and walk away. Sweaty brow, Tate tries to calm his breathing—-One inhale, and then another and another, ease his stomach flipping inside, it’d be helpful if he had a single friend in the world to support him instead of running off on this crazy whim, roll your shoulders kid, let it slide off and into the world of no worries. The chapel doors open and she steps inside with an equally matching ridiculous old prom dress, white and fluffy—-She’s sinking in the ruffles and his eyes melt into admiration, she still looks pretty. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all, he takes his place at the alter and hands fold in front, smiling, watching the girl walk down the isle with her fake diamond ring, fresh flowers with dirt crumbling down under her shoes, seems like just yesterday she had kicked the chair under his feet and strangled him with her sudden unseen commitment and he played along. Who’d say uncle first?Was this too intense it didn’t matter, was she a man-eater waiting to sink her teeth into his flesh? Tate had no clue but he was about to make her Mrs. Langdon, married at sixteen, father by seventeen, old and gray by thirty and he’ll be dead in no time. Tate is blinded by the way her hand fits in his own, the way her soft skin melts his skin and he helps her up to the alter. Tate licks his lips and they stand shoulder to shoulder, no smiles, maybe just shock—-Was the safety word ever going to be said? Words mumble and nods are given, oh they understand—They understand just what they’re doing and although his hearts dropped down to the laces of his converse, Tate didn’t speak up to terminate this marriage before the ceremony finished. Would mother love her new daughter-in-law?
§ for the morning after
"Good morning….Mrs. Langdon…" Pink room, heart shaped bed and flamingo’s on the wall, the pattern was corny, the pink shaggy fur carpet was luxurious and Tate ran his finger tips along the edge of her jaw, brushing her cheek while being awakened to a wide smile, guess he’s done good as a husband. Tate leans over and presses a peck to her mouth, they were in so deep they wouldn’t be able to climb out of this engrossing tomb in the ground, they’ve flushed each other down the toilet and now everything was ruined. He was a new man, a growing man with big ears, big hands and big feet.Wasn’t even finished high school yet, he’ll laughed out, thrown out and ridiculed for making such a stupid decision, his mother would beat him but the warmth in the bed, that they created between two naked bodies was well worth the pain that was short to come.Tate had no idea what to do now, they couldn’t move in together, their parents wouldn’t allow it and if her father knew and his mother was aware of the deed they’d done, they’d be put into graves at the end of the day. Secrecy must be the best way to go, Tate shuffles to the bathroom and relieves his bladder with a sigh before returning in his birthday suit, no embarrassment, matching scars, matching wear and tear on the flesh between.A dropping sigh back flat onto the silk sheets and he turns onto his stomach and begins kissing up from his dearests ankle, smiling wide while teeth graze along with open mouthed plump kisses. “—How’s about a little bed in breakfast?” Purr purr, Tate quickly grabs her knees and spreads them under the blankets before slipping down, following his hands.
"--See with cross'd arms they sit -- ah! happy crew. The fire is going out and no one rings..For coals, and therefore no coals Betty brings. A fly is in the milk-pot -- must he die by a humane society?--" Often, Tate finds himself mumbling the workings of Keats aloud, wondering just what this poet was smoking in his time. Unaware that his solitude has been corrupted by another, Tate keeps his back to them, oblivious to his surroundings, while the words remain rolled on the tip of his tongue.
violetgoescommando said: yes yes yeyeysys eyesy yes
Right?!
Sneaking up behind the shirtless ghost, the flower wraps her arms around his waist and stands on her tiptoes to sink her teeth into the warm skin of his shoulder.
A blush really and he just cants his head to the side, fingers curling tightly into his shirt. Letting it rest against his chest while he takes in a slow broken breath, a lump in his throat bobbing his Adam’s apple. “O-oh" Shoulders roll under her bite and although Tate desperately wants it to end, his body really truly wants nothing more to keep her mouth mutilating his skin.
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Moan
Twenty-Two: Our muses have sex in an unconventional place
Tate scuffs under his breath and nudges her with his red conversed foot, stretched on the bed, notepad in hand and pen in the other, shirts open and unbuttoned “I am so sick of fucking on the bed—We need to spice it up” At least for him “I need to fuck you somewhere..Weird..Like spicy and hot..Do gazebo’s count as unconventional places?” He’s trying to be creative here but she’s not exactly giving him any ideas. Impatient and horny, Tate sits up, pouting over at her. “Come on, give me a little help here Vi—I want to be able to get it up with you”
trick or treat!
12. Tickle fight
"VIOLET! GET BACK HERE!” It’s a swift run down the hall, slipping along with those ridiculous stripped socks he thought was Halloween costume enough and runs after her up the stairs, grabbing her by the waist and wedging his finger tips into her sides, pulling her onto him.This was the best part about being ghosts, at least in Langdon’s opinion; being able to fall back blink and land safely like they had never fallen backwards at all—And now they were back in the living room and his fingers continues to flutter and tickle, pinch and pry at her while the girl atop of him squealed and tried to get him off while he in turns howls with laughter “I TOLD YOU NOT TO MAKE ANYMORE WITCH COMMENTS ABOUT MY SOCKS! THIS IS WHAT YOU GET!” —Oh no he’s not mad, he hasn’t had so much fun tickling someone before, it was its own form of torture really “—Say Uncle!”
violetgoescommando replied to your post: 22!
EEK, oh god what if I made this a thread? OH GOD, WHAT IF.
Well you could, but I'm not a big fan of the whole ask reblog thing, so if you do want to make this a thread either use the reply bubble or just make a new post love <3
