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THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE

Marlowe has been relocated to @stillanimal.

[lycanking]

THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE

Marlowe has been relocated to @stillanimal.

[lycanking]

THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE

Marlowe has been relocated to @stillanimal.

[lycanking]

THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE

Marlowe has been relocated to @stillanimal.

[lycanking]

THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE

Marlowe has been relocated to @stillanimal.

[lycanking]

THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE

Marlowe has been relocated to @stillanimal.

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                 IN YOUR HANDS, THERE’S A TOUCH THAT CAN HEAL,                  BUT IN THOSE SAME HANDS, IS THE POWER TO KILL.

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i was just thinking about marlowe out of no where. he’s spent a lot of time in japan / various other countries where people of color originate. i don’t see him falling into the “white savior” category and i might reword my timeline when i come back to him in full throttle. actually, i see him as the exact opposite. whenever he settled in a country, death would likely follow him. while some people saw “the bite” as a divine gift, most saw it as a curse to the land. the mark of change. the coming of destruction. and that’s exactly what happened. no matter where he went, war and death and destruction would follow. so he’s very much the opposite of the “white savior”. he’s definitely the “white devil”. LMAO.

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❛ VAMPYRC —「 LILI 」

                    The sight of him is a BALM for an old wound, setting her nerves but startling them all the same with the flavour of his stardust scent and too-blue eyes. It is his house after all, and certainly she knew he would come back eventually, but she is surprised all the same. The house in Geiranger is laden with HER; half-finished paintings, a bed not slept in, a makeshift darkroom in an unused lavatory, and something like bleach to disguise any mess– but it is still his home, and she is half-embarrassed that it is not as sterling clean as she would’ve liked. Pulling a silk robe around her shoulders tighter, Lili opened the door, and took only a moment or two before pulling him into a hug. “You should have called.”

                         Though the embrace had been welcomed, by all means, the feelings that followed were UNSETTLING.  In an instant, it was as if they were wild-eyed teenagers again, struggling to make name for themselves.  Everything that had happened in between, all the pain and suffering and loss -- everything that tried so hard to tear them apart, was made a distant blur.   She smelled of death, but nothing like the ugly bits.   Not the decaying remains or senseless bloodshed.   It was the bittersweet of it all.   The scent of a perfumed, yielding neck as it was surrendered to sharp teeth.

He pulled away from her with great reluctance.   Haunted smile fading into the void, only to be replaced with an aching tired.   This was his home, despite what she had done to make it hers.   His intentions had been to rest, the presence of an old flame was only a pleasant surprise.   Travel bags are tossed into the nearest corner and weary eyes travel across unfinished paintings.   It was nice.   But it’s not very long before body finds comfort in the cushions of an empty couch and face is buried beneath throw pillow.

               ❛ Where would the surprise be in that? No doubt, you would have vacated the premises.   I like the comfort of not being alone.   I like the smell of paint.   Besides, I haven’t seen you in quite a while. ❜

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                  GO STRAIGHT AT ‘EM! DON’T LET THESE THUGS SCARE YOU.

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headcanon: marlowe has three pet pigs for the irony.

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I wouldn’t mind having my neck kissed by you for hours.