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     all     that     we     share     is     the     view     of     these     stars.     /     all     the     violence     that     I     swore     you     can     have     back.    /     indie     multi     fandom    multi     muse     penned     by     heather.

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betterrat:

update     ;     going in to see the doctor today, will hopefully be prescribed some things to kill this shit. fair warning, i have not gotten more than two hour naps over the last six days and not even that last night. if the prescription lets me sleep, that’s exactly what i’m doing the minute i get home. all asks/drafts/etc will just have to wait until after because this thing is kicking my ass about seven thousand ways to sunday and i literally cried this morning because i almost managed sleep and got woken up for some asinine shit. i love you all you’re babes. you’re wonderful. i just have nothing left to give so consider this an official SEMI HIATUS NOTICE until i’m better.

second update     ;     turns out this thing that’s been kicking my ass could have actually literally killed me. in fact it’s something that almost did kill me as a kid. bronchitis and this flu are no fucking joke. turns out all those coughing fits were slowly choking off my air supply and now i have to use an inhaler every four hours for the next month at minimum. maybe longer as there’s a chance this is chronic and could keep seriously causing me issues. that being said, i’m still gonna need some time to recover but i really don’t know for how long. i doubt it will be the full 30 days before i’m able to be on here. so, any of my mutuals on any of my blogs can feel free to add me on sky.pe ( defcon5stories11 ) or dis.cord ( satanneverdies#1331 ) either to talk ooc or even to write, just let me know who you are. i’m just not going to have the energy to do anything major on my blogs for the next several days. love y’all. heather.

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update     ;     going in to see the doctor today, will hopefully be prescribed some things to kill this shit. fair warning, i have not gotten more than two hour naps over the last six days and not even that last night. if the prescription lets me sleep, that’s exactly what i’m doing the minute i get home. all asks/drafts/etc will just have to wait until after because this thing is kicking my ass about seven thousand ways to sunday and i literally cried this morning because i almost managed sleep and got woken up for some asinine shit. i love you all you’re babes. you’re wonderful. i just have nothing left to give so consider this an official SEMI HIATUS NOTICE until i’m better.

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     you’re not a man, you’re property of the united states government. uttered by an all too perky blonde lab tech whose crush was all but spelled out in blazing neon letters over her head, who talked a little too fast, and got carried away with her enthusiasm. he had once found it almost cute, but it became less endearing with her thinly veiled flirtations and unwanted touch. that’s how those words seem to him now. he had laughed before, taking it to be a joke, but now they felt heavy and dark. DEHUMANIZING. not a man but a machine, a tool to be used in aid of what’s been interpreted to mean the greater good of mankind. maybe he’s playing a significant role, making the world safer for the simple price of his own autonomy.      he could walk away, feign some sort of civilian life style, try to shed his skin as he’s so desperate to do in this moment that seems unending but true freedom can never be achieved. he would always be looking over his shoulder, waiting for the day that it caught up with him and suddenly the thought that his father might have left is more sensible now than it ever was before. he’s never seen someone quit this life, only retire when senility hit or disappear in the line of duty.

                        ind. pri. agent curt mega from spies are forever.

                                                                penned by heather. template.

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[requested]

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ooc.     friendly reminder i adore my son curtis mega with all my heart.

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Perhaps we’ll meet again when we’re better for each other.

Ten Word Poem #6  (via rumour)

(via poemsbysmm)

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     opening the door at the knock, there’s a bat in hand and hidden from the line of sight. fifteen years old, she’s all gristle--- she looks less like her mother by the day, she outgrew her almost two years ago. the man standing on the other side of the door is familiar in a way, but she can’t place why. must be an old client. ❛ you here for an appointment? ❜

@liveslived

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important connections in the spies are forever group verse ft. @partnarrative + @wildething + @fairglenned

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the seven year trio + hailie) ft. @fairglenned + @wildething + @allwounds (insp.)

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it’s 2017 and people are still treating multimuses like shit.   say it with me :   multimuses are valid  ,  multimuses are dedicated  ,  multimuses are run by insanely talented muns  ,  multimuses don’t deserve the bad rep they get in the roleplay community  !!   LOVE ON A MULTIMUSE TODAY  !!   <3

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Screaming is a privilege. It enables you to express your pain, in a way that others can hear; in a way they can understand. —I won’t allow you that privilege. Your death will be silent and unacknowledged. You will die, not by the loss of life, but by the lack of general awareness that you were ever alive to begin with.

The true meaning of death is to be forgotten. (Excerpt from “Fornever”) | m.a.w (via dvoyd)

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matchboxsouls.  ⥵  taz.

   she had known the commander BEFORE his fall from grace, and she had known him after. one of the few that had watched the changes of the man she used to know so well mar themselves and demonize themselves into something different and startling from what they once were. a shadow of the leader that he once was – and, taz had been helpless to stop his downfall. for the first time since she was a child, she stood useless in the aftermath and debris of it all as she watched her friend crumble down into nothingness. into shattered pieces and debris that yearned and ached for who he once was.

   taz wasn’t naive enough to think that up could ever be who he was before – the warrior had not been naive in any sense for a very long time. albeit, that did not soften or sate the rage that harbored in her chest; the need to rip and tug out every piece of up until she could see it arranged on her floor in bright, shimmering crimson. to use her bare hands to shove those pieces back together in a menagerie that resembled the man she used to know. she wanted to plunge hands in place of claws into his chest and rip out whatever human was left of it to shove into his face and distill salt upon said wounds until he burned with nothing but human pain ; if only to prove that that was indeed what he still was.

   perhaps the ANGER was a byproduct of a guilt she had buried so far south that it merely harbored itself as an illness that wrapped around her bones and tattooed and splintered itself there. 

   “up-” she spits back – despite the growl of her name from his lips being unintentional, perhaps, hers was not. dripping and seething with venom and poison from every ounce of toxicity that her body could manage. as if her mere atoms were made of something less than human, something more dangerous and toxic than arsenic. her body a WAR MACHINE, her blood poisoning the water supplies and her lungs full of noxious gas. she felt, some days, she could merely breathe and planets would crumble – albeit, it had never been quite as STRONG as when up had been WHOLE and stood at her side as more of an equal than a commanding officer.

   she felt a fire of it now ; when him hovering over her like a predator who did not truly realize he was the prey. but just a spark of a fire that could not flare to full fruition. and this too angered her. “YOU AREN’T TRYING HARD ENOUGH,” it was an accusation and a demand all in one. a challenge.

     when his lieutenant says his name, it doesn’t feel like a comfort but a poison. something swilling and rotting him from the inside out. he WAS up. the same way he WAS isaac. they’re dead now, have been for a long time. neither received funerals because he held their corpses inside of him. the closest companions that he has. he can feel them both speaking now, isaac little more than a faint echo, they know so little of his past it’s hard to reconstruct--- up a stronger voice. opposing views, two sides of the same man who is now left torn in the middle. one demanding that he give her everything for she deserves no less, the other saying to release her for that is what she deserves. it’s hard to know which is which.

     the challenge hangs in the air between them making it thick and heavy, harder to breathe now. i know. i know i know. I CAN’T. there’s a thundering in his heart, a pulsing in his head. he wants to try but he doesn’t know if he can. there’s always a lurking question of how much is programmed. if all robots are given an inhibitor chip does that mean he can never be the man he once was? that if he tries he’ll be stopped short and utterly helpless to the code that thrums through the mass of electrical currents housed within? he can’t bring himself to test the limits.

     finally, he rocks back, resting on his knees as he looks down at her and something in his face shifts. he looks at her in an almost somber way. it would seem that the soft up is back, shaking his head. ❛ I CAN’T. ❜ he utters the words aloud, lets them hang there with the challenge before he cuts them down viciously with his next words. ❛ show me how. ❜

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“So what am I?”, he demands desperately. “You’re a bad idea,” she says, “You are all the just this once and I know better in my head. You’re an exit wound. And you’re everything I want.”

r.m | Excerpts #01 (via ibuzoo)