andblood-blog - Tumblr blog

[andblood-blog]

whispers i won’t be here until sunday so ?????????? p ls i’m doing a hecka dance program

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+ s i l a s !

        “ wait !!  i didn’t expect you to say okay. ” silas is nearly squealing,         embarrassment flooding his features. “ — okay, okay. i can do this.         i’m gonna fuckin’ DECK him. that’s what i’ll do. ” silas     cracks his         knuckles, standing from his seat. “ be ready to bolt. ”

             really, she SHOULDN’T be so ( g i d d y ); candied brims parting              to allow another round of hushed SNICKERS to fall before she’s              glancing either side. her sister, on her left, wears a demure smile              & her brother’s got the glass rim of a bottle glued to his foul grimace.              ( god, how she wants to piss them off. ) hues flicker up towards silas,              partly in admiration & partly in the slightest inkling of fear, as vanya              herself readies herself for the R U N.

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i want cute threads ????????? like super cute punch me in the face threads ??????? i need cute student revolutionaries kissin at a protest and holdin hands and bein fuckin cute im such trash i 

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+ s i l a s !

* ★ : ｡ * closed started for @andblood — based off of this.

      “ — i’m just sayin’ !!  i could punch your dad. right now. i mean, he       could probably slam me across the fuckin’ room, but …   seriously.       i’m here to piss of your family, yeah ??  let me at ‘em !! “

            ( oh god, she’s not able to stifle her giggles anymore. ) ‘ god, yeah --- ---             fuck it, y’know what i mean ?? you’re here to get me disowned, let’s             just fuckin’ go for it. ’

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+ k a i !

                  SILENCE IS BLISS. none understand that more than the                      ebony-haired slim silhouette positioned in the grass,                      slender fingertips losing themselves in a sea of green.                      the question h a n g s in the air, a heavy weight ( intruding )                      upon kai’s train of thought. dark brown hues turn to her                      companion, framed by contentedly narrowed lids.                     ‘ being forgotten doesn’t mean we never existed, ’ she                      INSISTS. ‘ the earth won’t forget us when we return to                      it. ’ a pause, characteristic inquisitiveness stealing the                      peace from her features. ‘ does it worry you ? ’

                        BROADENED SHOULDERS elevate in an indistinguishable                              shrug ; disquietude isn’t an expression that regularly finds                              itself ( g r a c i n g ) his features. stormy OPTICS find solace                              in the way the male lets papery eyelids flutter closed for only                              a moment. ‘ see, esa es la cosa. i don’t know. i want to be                              remembered for doin’ somethin’ G R E A T.  --- --- so, if i                              wanna do somethin’ great, what do i do ? it’s ... ... ’ he is                               lost for words ; no vocables form upon a parched tongue as                              diego scrambles for the right fillis to bring the thoughts that                              beg to be released to life. ‘ i wanna leave, like, a LEGACY.                              i just don’t know how. how am i MEANT to leave a lasting                              legacy in the twenty-first century ?? ’

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stylehq fuck its a long story

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ill do things later im pissed

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bade: a summary

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update : im gonna have a rl sketchy few days bc ,,,, g od how do i explain ??? shit is goin down fr nd i gotta be on Top of everythin

also i took 5sos off my banned list bc i forgot how cute calum hood was i hate myself

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+ l o u c i l l e !              

                      ❝ look, if you’re lost, just SAY it !! ❞                       she mutters, crossing her arms as                       she shivers softly. she’s trying h a r d                       not to make a big deal out of this, but                       the ideas of being stuck in who-knows                       -where is not something IDEAL to loucille.                       ❝ i won’t be m a d okay ?? just tell me                       where you think we are and we can try                       and figure it out TOGETHER ?❞ her figure                       is curling inwards, looking shorter than                       usual. she knew her outfit wasn’t the right                       one the minute they stepped out. now                       she’s sweater-less and s t u c k in a place                       that she knows not one BIT about.

                    ‘ i --- i --- i THOUGHT i knew this place ! ’ & when                          defeat finally TUMBLES off of bitten, chapped corals,                         it’s bitter. something acerbic lingers upon vanya’s                         tongue as she labours over the syllables that ( r o l l )                         away in discomfiture. her cheeks flush, a sanguine                         shade that betrays her previously-defiant countenance                         in every way possible. spindly arms cross over her                          stomach in an attempt to shrink into herself, & ALL                         van r e a l l y wants to do is let the ground swallow her                         entire entity whole because HOW could she get lost ? she’s                         never been lost here before ; she didn’t even fathom that                          it WAS possible to get lost amongst winding roads &                          scenery that blurs by from an unwashed car window.                          a heavy sigh breaks the seal of her lips momentarily,                         before fawn hues gaze upward through blackened lashes                         at the other. ‘ i, um. i could call my sister. or one of my older                         brothers. ’

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+ a n g e l i c a !

                     Angelica extended the nape of her neck, gathering the                      pool of ringlets to rest upon a single collarbone,                              dragging the cheap sunglasses Peggy had bought                             them up her face and resting them atop of her head.                          “I was just going to say,” she began in her ordinary                      haughty drawl that Eliza knew was anything but, “that                      I wanted to know if you had any more sunscreen. I                             can practically feel my skin peeling over here.”       

                      ‘ it should be in --- --- gotcha ! CATCH ! ’                             adroit digits abandon her polaroid for                             barely a minute ; they wrap round the tube                             that her sister so KINDLY requested &                             toss it into a carelessly lethargic arch, aiming                            in the elder’s general direction. insouciant                            ( gaiety ) lights up the female’s lips as she allows                            symphonic giggles to pour, luxuriate & rich,                             from brims that taste ever so slightly of neutral                            chapstick & s e a  s a l t. ‘ ang, we gotta do this                            again, ‘mkay ? i wanna come back. ’

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ft some bad poetry that eventually manifested itself into vanya !!!

                   five times they told him he was wrong                      and one time she knew she wasn’t                                      ( 10:04 pm. )

i.

‘boys don’t play with barbie dolls.’

juvenile negativity spits itself with dripping disgust from kindergarten lips; the world is nothing but a blur of pastel colours and sweet tastes that melt on childrens’ lips and he is barely five but his imagination holds no room for plastic trucks and sports he is consumed with quixotic dreams of princesses in foreign lands and the beauty that finds itself coiled in tight ringlets that cascade down the elegance of sloping shoulders princesses were so much prettier than truckers, anyway

ii.

‘boys don’t play with their mother’s makeup, you freak.’

puberty has laid a bitter hand upon his back whilst mascara and misery find darkened paths that run in parallel lines down ivory cheeks that he worked to perfect and he isn’t pretty, they told him so the world told him that he could never be pretty even when satin rustles against his thighs and he loses himself in the way lace lays butterfly kisses upon his skin they have told him that he isn’t pretty and it’s only natural to believe them because who knows you better than people who don’t even know you ?

iii.

‘god, you’re disgusting. man the fuck up.’

except that he isn’t a he and there is no room left for him to ‘man up’ because he isn’t a he but he won’t let it spill because crystallized fire is only fuel to their flame and though oasis optics beg to shed he won’t let them and instead he will smile and maybe strategise the way he will tear himself apart later because what’s more manly than smiling at your own pain

iv.

‘you’re only doing this for attention.’

this is not a cry for attention this is not a cry for sneaky gossip behind half-turned backs this is self-acceptance and how its claws threaten to rip gaping vortexes between ribs that he pulls together in an attempt not to break even though breaking sounds like such a viable option and god knows how he wishes he could let himself shatter into a million, thin glass shatters and god knows how much he wants to stop stop the way he hates the eerie image that dances in the mirror stop the way he hates the way the fact that they still consider him a ‘he’ because god, it punches him right in the fucking gut and it’s not really like he needs another reason to want to spill the contents of an aching stomach out again or again or again or again or again but it looks like there’s no other option again

v.

‘you’re a freak.’

maybe it is her confidence that threatens them or maybe it is the fact that she looks better in heels than they do or maybe she has just lost the ability to care about what they whisper when she struts by because god, she is so much better now and she doesn’t need to break her mirrors or her wrists anymore and she won’t ever need to tear herself apart to entertain a fantasy and she will never have to look at herself like that again and she is finally what she wants to be and she has left him behind

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▒ ┋✧ + firebrcnded !

                 a ( s u n n y  s m i l e ) lights up eliza’s brims ; &                     whilst sorrel hues are shrouded by cheap plastic,                     each inch of her magnanimous grin has vaulted                     into temperate irises. balmy zephyrs blow dulcet                     symphonies around her solid shape, & bright                     sunlight GLIMMERS against her skin. with a gentle                      flick of her head, she’ll arch back to hoist up a                     d e l i n e a t e d brow. ‘ y e s ? ’

[andblood-blog]

ofcholer >>> andblood !

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he is the dangerous boy with the wild heart and I am the girl who never stops trying to coax the softness out of his shell. he makes me feel free and I give him the freedom to be, to hurt, to feel, to love. his lips taste like thunder and I have always tried to brave the storm.

i tried not to love him, by j.h. (via alyxofrp)

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rest in peace, prince. a true musical legend, our world got a little less magical today. i hope that wherever you are, you’re still killing it. you were a massive inspiration to me, & i can’t thank you enough. i love you, & i will never forget you. rock on. x