emo dyke

- formerly known as @syl3nte

- 24, transmasc butch

- interests: deathcore, tension, intellectual/emotional sadomasochism, community

- dms permanently closed. asks open, but please be respectful

- tw: lover of self harm destruction

take my phone and unfollow my friends as i'm sleeping, threaten to kill me if I ever leave you, hit me, scratch me, cut me, scream at me. i'll take the blame for every time you lose control-- the only thing i can maintain.

i'll tell your friends it's all my fault, i'll beg for you to forgive me for the crimes i committed in your head after i pay for your insecurities to get concealed. tighten my dress shirt collar over my neck with the nails i just paid for, let those shame filled tears drop on my shoulder as you weep in my arms, apologizing for the way you treat me. let me reassure you i only want you, while purposefully ignoring your text for a few minutes longer than you'd like. just to watch how far you can spiral. on nights you cry and get suicidal because you think i'm going to leave you-- where you bring up the stranger i smiled at while in passing conversation-- i'll cradle you in my arms.

you? an incoherent disaster, scared of being abandoned again. i'll rock you to sleep as you dig your nails into my skin, relieved that you failed to suspect the ambien in the tea i brewed for you.

planning a holistic retreat for you. sending you off in a rental with flowers in the passenger seat.

"i'm doing the bare minimum you deserve".

the glovebox containing a binder with a custom itinerary and carefully placed bands of cash for your retail therapy.

"i know my card would be easier, but you know how paranoid i get, baby..."

airtag in the trunk, under the spare.

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"hey... how about you stop by the hardware store and get some roadside supplies, yeah? just in case you have any issues with cell service and you get a flat... you can't trust just anyone, you know."

glancing up at the glass of the autoparts store from across the parking lot, before my eyes return to your message.

"you got the ratchet straps, right? good, honey. smart thinking. now, just look for the 1/2 torque. fits the bolt size of the suv you're driving."

watching your smile through the tinted windshield as you look down at your phone, telling me how much you appreciates my care– my planning. attention to detail. always preparing for the worst.

"i hope this proves how much i love you".

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the sky painted a slate grey– a stark contrast to the blue indicator on my screen, slowly inching north.

my phone vibrating in my hand.

a missed call, turning into a new voicemail.

glass shards flicking against my jeans, the empty rum bottle shattering on the wet pavement below.

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"hey, sorry for missing your call earlier– i just got off work. i wanted to check in on you."

one hand on the phone, the other alternating between the wheel and the tightly packed holster. your voice flooding my ears, rambling about acquiring a flat as you're knelt down, inspecting the tire. my knuckles tightening around the cold wheel as you mention calling roadside assistance to help.

the sound of faint clicking from your hazards, filling the gap of silence between us before you ask how i knew you'd have a problem.

a dry laugh escaping my lips with my foot pressing harder on the accelerator.

"... i just knew."

my racing thoughts being interrupted from the relief in your voice, seeing headlights approaching through the fog. the dial tone of our disconnected call accompanying the rainfall on the roof. the gravel underneath my boots a precursor to the sound of the wrench being lifted off the ground from behind you. your scream being muffled by cold steel pressed against your lips as your body slams against the metal frame. a wet barrel pressed to your temple, your heartbeat pulsing against my forearm, holding you closely. as if any loose grip will cause you to slip away. my breath, the only source of warmth, grazing over your skin.