#voiceofmany

Endless Ship Edits 1 / ? - Drizella Tremaine and Pitch Black

"You know the deepest corners of my mind. The fears, the anxieties. Surely you know the only real difference between us is people don't realize how truly awful I am when they're looking at a pretty face."

"Do you think that's why I can't get enough of you, perhaps? Are you a monster under a gilded layer, Drizella?"

"I'm not a good person. I'm impulsive and vindictive and I can be cruel. No one finds me worthy of love, not even myself. Does any of that sound...familiar to you, Pitch?"

@voiceofmany​ said: Trick or Treat! 🎃 (LOVE ME)

trick or treat graphics // accepting

Irritated as King Liam was with the events that had just occurred in court, he paid little mind as he pounded down the corridors toward his suite of rooms. Servants scattered, nobility averted their eyes. Wise. He slammed his parlor door shut, then stalked to his chambers to strip down, piece by piece, tunic and trousers falling away to bare skin and drawers. Only then did he notice the maid in the corner - Bonnie. Shit. “Ya can keep cleaning,” he muttered. “Only some skin.” 

-

        ❛  if  you’re  going  to  insist  on  being  a  newspaper  boy,   could  you  at  least  try  not  to  come  back  with  soiled  clothes ?   i’m  the  one  who  has  to  clean  them,  you  know,  not  you.  ❜   she  knew  the  streets  were  dirty,  but  she  doesn’t  suppose  he  has  to  roll  around  in  it  to  sell  papers.

           ‘ you know, i’ve never really had my nails painted before. ‘ she’d never bought any for herself, just because it felt silly to spend her money on something like that when her mom was blowing all their money for groceries on beer instead. her mom definitely had some of her own, but penny wasn’t brave enough to go look for it. make-up was also a no for similar reasons as pam had told her once or twice that the blue eyeshadow she wore everyday wouldn’t be flattering with her hair color. she was probably right. but it felt nice to have her nails painted and the color was pretty.

            ‘ it looks nice. you’re good at this. ‘

No one can say Matches didn’t earn a little roughing up -- whether in general or sneaking back into Brooklyn after one Mr. Spot Conlon made it very clear she wasn’t wanted here. Who knew a little campfire would make the dog on top so antsy? Yet it seemed that she was the antsy one now when Spot dove to slam her wrists back down on the pavement, hands -- way bigger than hers -- keeping them there with a vice grip. 

Almost instantly, without her consent, she let out a soft ‘mmph’ as he towered over her and put more weight on her wrists, effectively getting her squirming once more. “What?” She snapped, louder than she meant but embarrassment (over what she didn’t wanna think about) increased her volume and she forced herself to bite her tongue. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck him. “You gotta funny look yourself there, asshole -- fuckin’ ugly comes t’ mind t’ describe it.” Nice. Subtle.

Tristan needed a break. He wasn’t specifically running from anything, in this instance, he wasn’t in trouble - business was great. Actually, business was spectacular. He’d been working around the clock for months closing up deals and making connections and it most definitely showed in the checkbook, which was great! He was thrilled. He was having a great time.

He was exhausted.

His sister told him if he didn’t get out of Zuzu long enough to catch his breath and get some rest, she would personally chase him out. (You did not argue with the woman, you would not win - or at least he didn’t, not often enough to count.)

So, off he went. Camping, of all things. A nice little roadtrip where he stopped in a middle-of-nowhere town that was quaint and little and nothing like home.

Perfect.

He found a nice lakeside, stopped by and had a great chat with a nice lady who ranched the area, paid handsomely, promised to behave, and set up a tent.