❛ ʷᶦᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵇʳᶦᶰᵍᶦᶰᵍ ᵐᵉ.

beyondillumination:

                      SCOTT’S OVER HERE NOW.                 

                      SCOTT’S OVER HERE NOW.                 

                 important blog update. ( under cut. ) !!

                       ❛ like for a lil’ baby starter, possibly.

    this blog & bruce’s is on a semi hiatus from 7/25 to 7/31.

           obligation outweighs emotion.

   laura knows this, she practically has it  t a t t o o e d  on her heart, the words    memorized with a quick  (  yet  still  soft  -  spoken,  when  need be  )  tongue.    it's   her   obligation           her   right   as  a  student,  as  a  fighter,  as  a  "self    proclaimed"  journalist          to  save  silas;  even  with  all  it's fractured parts,    wherein darkness seems to seep,  to ache... if one would look close enough.    & GOD, did her weakly,  worn out hands find every crack, misshapen brick &    breach that'd run broken across this university.

            obligation outweighs emotion,  this is of which laura knows.  something she             doesn't, however          for all her poor naivety, this list is ever growing          is             how carmilla can be feet  away,  a stoic statuesque,  apathetic  &  unnerving.             book  pages  feathered  between  fingertips   (  FINGERTIPS  that  only  mere             hours        or days? heartbreak's a drunken induced haze to her         brushed             away tendrils of brown as lips parted just to say,  WHATEVER  YOU  NEED  )             calm, as laura's own heart  is  collapsing  within  itself,  like  a  b l a c k h o l e,             consuming what's left of her tears, just as everything else there.

                    stone cannot love flesh, & perhaps... flesh cannot love stone, either.

                      ❛ could you go in a different room? i'm trying to CONCENTRATE                 on saving my friends here, & your page turning gets louder every second. ❜

❛ᵐᵃʳʳᶦᵉᵈ ᵃ ᑫᵘᵃᶜᵏ⋅

                                   hear that, lydia? 

                            it’s distant quacking noises from behind his hand.

           hums. but consider this: royalty aus.

            prince / princess being betrothed to someone due to their lineage, but loving another.   prince / princess falling for a servant because they’re forced to live life enclosed within castle walls.                 classic one, where the muses are betrothed, but also can’t stand one another.                                        king / queen dynamics.                                                       monarchs, LIONHEARTS.

                                      fantasy threads. 

                           (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ dragons, knights, sword fights. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

❛ˢᵉᶰˢᵉᶦ﹖

                      ❛ how do you do it? stop the thoughts. ❜

                                          ┊❛ᴼ ᴾ ᴱ ᴺ⋅

                       ❛ i don’t think i’m doing this right...  ❜

┊❛ ᶰᵘʳˢᵉ ᶜᵒᵐˢᵗᵒᶜᵏ⋅

war worn is the sinew that just barely wraps  &  weaves shoulders together setting them in   a slouch; thoughts a dull flicker of flame that calm to static when she separates the silence that'd been resting ill upon conjoined fingers         their grip like talons, having no mercy to blood laden bandages that ease against soon placid    flesh. it is nevermore than a dull ache, for sin of his tragedies suffer  &  cover that beyond enough. she speaks, he considers         or, words reach his ears, & he doth not do more than listen to them. mind decided of it's own intent, as   usual.   ’  i won't         i can HANDLE this, i told ya' that already. must've been a hundred times now.  ‘

    wicker of palms itch, tendrils that withhold the injury from worsening like bristle opposite to his skin. an adam's apple bobs & booker doesn't even remember inhaling, only      people are dying. there's blood on my hands  &  people are   STILL dying.   ’  &  they need me out there! i can't be in two places at once, elizabeth,  ‘   flickering gazes slip, shutter - struck from escalation of his tone. this time, when apologies fog like clouds within a columned throat, the swallow is     purposeful.   ’  no matter... how much i want to be         i can't.  ‘

┊❛ ᵐᶦˢˢ ᵐᵒᶰᵗᶦᶫʸᵉᵗ⋅

                                  ’  shit          ‘

the word’s spat like a hair trigger         crass & graveled does he divulge it; not once betraying what she may be able perceive to  from his profile.  jaw set,  shoulders quick to imitate such,  beryl jade  -  tinge of his sight seeks ahead,   searching for something.

                          injuries, afflictions, emotional turmoil?                                he’d seen it all.

           ’  seemed to take care of that pretty well. ain’t.. hurt, are you?  ‘

┊❛ ˢᵗᵉᶠ⋅

redolence of withering white hospital walls  &  sheets of once sick  (  some always sick  )   eclipse beneath the deep, fawn dip that is scott's skin. mist from his shower was a poor condolence to rid himself of        the essence, dew still caught under crookedly set mandibles; a drip coils, diffident  &  slow to fall as he curves crescent in search of star wars. stiles had only stuck copies  (  from a seemingly INSURMOUNTABLE stack he'd kept? ) within every hidey hole that'd littered throughout their  -  shared  -  space.   ’ s o r r y. it's here somewhere, i have to just       ‘   scour an entire shelf riddled with cinematic classics neither had, a presumable thought, ever              watched? or ( as he manages to curl away fingertips that mimic the vaguest form of panic just a fraction  )  discover it stowed aside, clandestine under a bowl of too torrid popcorn, the... entire time.   ’ uh... found it? that's       yeah, that's my b a d. ‘           cusp of his touch descends in a single, gossamer movement; fever - like warmth of his neck inching the opposite way, chasing to cheeks       where they flourish out a smile, despite the shallow pool of scott's embarrassment.  ’ it'll be worth it, i PROMISE. ‘  feet shift their weight, one to another, band of sweats dipped low as    he scoots in, with commonly gracious nature, beside her         ’ you haven't seen it, right? stiles has been hounding me non - stop for as long as i can remember. ‘