#ii. STARDUST MEMORIES ( dennis : ic )

[hatigave]

@godstrayed Billy said : someday i’m gonna be somebody people want. to Dennis.

THE SHAPE OF A BOY cast from the village is an ugly one. He can recall the last summer he spent on Green Bay Beach in vivid detail ⎯⎯⎯⎯ the pressure of stones underneath his feet and the gentle ocean gripping his ankles. Back when the tourists had waved at him, and his community had loved him. NOW HE IS THE SICKLY COW CAST FROM THE HERD. left to die by the jaws of the wolf in the open field. He waits for the sharp sting of teeth tearing at flesh, but holds a knife to defend himself all the same.

❝ Don't. ❞ The answer comes from grief when he tips his head back against the dirty glass of the bus stop shelter. Scar on the back of his head has long since healed ; he still hopes for grime to get in and cause an infection. It rains. It never rained back home ( it did, IT DID ! it rained so often it washed away all your sins - ) ❝ What people want is a body to rip to shreds. A body they can remake in whatever way they see fit. If they want you they see you as a project. Something they need to mend. Do not let them ! ❞ It fucking hurts to become.

[hatigave]

THE KNIFE BECOMES FLESH and the hand holding it becomes a passenger to the desire locked in the rigidness of his spine ( allow me to be the blood in your veins. Allow me to drift to your heart and above all stay there with my teeth piercing the muscle. Warm I would be, safe, too. ) Wade asks ; and he, hopeless devotee to the religion of foolish stupid fucking love raises his head from the safety of the other's neck. TEETH LEFT A MARK, a hickey, and an indentation of his teeth. Ask, ask and the world will be yours. ❝ Why not ? ❞ Words are followed by a tremble of his hand. A near twist that never leaves the want inside his heart.

❝ Does it hurt ? Do you think it hurt David when Michelangelo carved him from marble ? ❞ Are you not the artist and the sculpture in equal measure ?

rain   pounds   down   on   them   ,   washing   away   the   blood   that   pours   from   the   stab   wounds   peppering   his   stomach.      the   knife   was   held   between   them,   piercing   his   skin   for   the   umpteenth   time.      a   low   groan   falls   from   parted   lips,   and   he   leans   into   the   knife.      allowing   it   to   sink   deeper.      blade   twists,   and   he   shakes   his   head.      reaching   for   the   hand   that   turns   the   blade,   he   stills   it.      forcing   dennis   to   stop   the   twisting   motion.      being   stabbed   was   one   thing,   the   twisting   of   the   blade   was   something   else   entirely.

❝         now   ,   now   ,   pretty   boy.      you   can   stab   me   all   you   want   …      but   let's   keep   the   twistin'   to   a   minimum   ,   shall   we   ?         ❞   / @hatigave requested wade for dennis !!

[hatilead]

         new killer oc            DENNIS HANSEN  !     based in canada, nova scotia specifically.  sees omens of evil around people after severe brain damage ;  and based on those omens, decides who to kill.  he’s an idiot,  but he kinda means well your honour  !   

[hatigave]

@toxicmalicex said [ palm ] sender places a hand on receiver to stop them from doing something - for Dennis

HE IS REMADE IN THE IMAGE OF A VENGEFUL GOD. cruel and vicious as his teeth snap down on the bitter and heavy aftertaste of a lie. Dog chases its own tail but never manages to truly catch it and rip the foreign limb off. HAND HOLDING THE BLADE TREMBLES, undecided between which flesh to split open. Holy omens speak to him and tell him that the unconscious man is unworthy of breath. The drugs were easy to slip into his drink, trailing after his swaying steps even easier still. Now, the edge of his knife is pressed against the sinner's throat. ( slice. slice. slice. ) but no motion is made all the same.

Her hand on his shoulder is enough to draw him back. Enough to have his trembling hand drop the knife in an answer to an unspoken demand. Please, please, you do not understand ! Or perhaps she does, for her omens are red and frantic like blood rushing out of a cut-open artery. Ragged is his breath when he snarls at her in response to the hand placed on his shoulder.

❝ He has to go. ❞ Dennis proclaims. Convinced of this. All this dog knows is how to bite.

[hatigave]

@timelovcd Rio said : [INJURY]: after having been badly wounded themselves, the sender tries to reassure the frantic receiver by cupping their face and comforting them. to Dennis

THE SHEEP IS LEAD TO SLAUGHTER when the knife pierces the skin and flesh as if it were butter. It goes up to the hilt so smoothly, so delicately ! Again and again, AGAIN AND AGAIN. All a knife has ever done is take. All the handler of the weapon does is guide the instrument to vanish into the willing and eager flesh over and over and over again. His love bleeds various shades of crimson     ⎯⎯⎯ they all mean death all the same. HE IS NO BETTER THAN THE ANGELS OF MERCY IN THE HOSPITAL when he demands Rio to stay alive through wishful thinking alone ( hands do not apply pressure, and his tongue does not hold the sweet sweet praises of a 911 call. He is wretched too. )

❝ Forgive me. ❞ He begs on his knees even when they have been stained with blood that should have remained inside the other's body. ❝ I don't know why ...❞ I am not a violent dog, I don't know why I bite. ❝ Please, let me... let me call an ambulance. ❞ LET ME SCATTER TO THE WIND BEFORE THEY COME FOR YOU. ❝ Stop comforting me ! It should be me, comforting you. ❞

[hatigave]

MORNING SUN IS KIND . makes him feel almost human, even when he is far from it. he died that day, a body rotting underneath the soil which he once called home. he still looks for the sea, tries to find the calmness he felt as a child when he wanders through an unfamiliar city. she is the only tie which binds him to this land. CUT TO PIECES, ONLY FOR HIM TO FLOAT AWAY. head tips to the side, tip of his tongue darting across his bottom lip. snake sizing up its prey. deems her worthy of unlocking its jaw. white wine laces his dreams, clings to him like poison. he drinks deeply from the last sip of his coffee, waits until he tastes the familiarity of unfiltered grounds against his mouth. cup is set aside. the echo of the clink of it against the cup ringing loudly.

he orders two glasses of wine. one white, one red. it's all too easy to ignore the look of the waiter, even easier so to ignore the hole in his wallet burning like an ember. he's a gentleman, of course he pays with the last of his funds. ❝ i don't sleep much. this is late for me. ❞ AT LEAST THAT RESEMBLES THE TRUTH. he has not slept properly for many months. years, even. the memories keeping him up at night. all things lost, turning him into a puppet of his own design. he could have been someone. he could have been anyone.

glasses are set down before them. trembling hand spills a drop on his shirt. it could have been blood. it could have been hers ! ❝ i forgot something that wasn't important to begin with. ❞ he tries to wave it off. lights a cigarette with great effort. HIS HANDS STILL WON'T COOPERATE. smoke billows towards the sky. returns home from where it came. his gaze follows. ❝ a bill i forgot to pay, or something like that. ❞

his grip is falling away, he can notice it slipping from between his palms. the scribbles floating around her head call him back to earth. ❝ it's really not important. tell me about your night. i love to listen to you. ❞

Hyacinthe had realized long ago that she was rambling on way too much but she could not help it. It had been such a long time since the last time she had felt a man take such an interest in her, to the point he always agreed to meet her in the mornings or during the day as he understood she was usually rather busy in the evenings. Maybe they were just friends, maybe he was not into her like that, she thought, but at least, even as a friend, he made efforts in making her feel like she mattered. Unless he completely phased out while she rambled.

Strangely, it made her smile. She did not take offence. How could she anyway? "I noticed," she teased playfully, giving the redhead a knowing look and a smirk. She was so far to even imagine what he was thinking about, as she caught him glancing at her lips, like he wanted to devour them. "I wouldn't say no to a glass of white wine," she admitted. She had barely slept for a couple hours, that night. She had come back to her tent at four in the morning and had woken up about two hours later, since one of her friends had been kind enough to let her shower but she had to be there early before he left for work. She was beyond exhausted.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me so early." She smiled softly at him and leaned back in her chair. The sun was warming her pale skin. For a second, she closed her eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet. "This is nice..." Another pause. Her eyes fluttered open and caught his. She breathed in. He was still staring intently at her. "What were you thinking about then? What did you forget?"

[hatigave]

@ncrthernattitude said : ☕ for you muse to be set up on a blind date with mine!

IT IS TERRIFYING TO PUT HIMSELF OUT THERE . the world is cruel and vengeful, and he does not know where he fits inside the cracks of it. he has clawed his way out of the clutches of death. has known the tender touch of a cold hand on his shoulder. now, after stepping away from the rumble of a ruined life and setting up a new life for himself in a different city, he is still bruised around the edges of his being. A FRIEND ONLY GAVE HIM RESTAURANT DETAILS. no further information about the person he would find there. there is no rose pinned to his chest as a way of giving away his identity. he wonders briefly if the stranger had been told to look for storms. if they had been informed about the gloom nature of his being. he cares little for it. simply shrugs as he attempts to make himself comfortable surrounded by the masses.

he is not looking for a relationship. he is not even looking for a hookup. he is looking for a distraction. for something to dig his teeth into. something to stain his chin with the red of blood. STRANGER ENTERS, AND DENNIS STARES. he has been staring at every stranger so far, trying to figure out who it could be. this one seems fitting enough. the name clings to his teeth, lingers at the back of his throat. hyacinthe. a flower he could pluck from the ground with his bare hands.

❝ hyacinthe ? ❞ the wolf does not rise from his chair to greet them. all he offers is a smirk he hopes is charming.

[hatigave]

FLOWER PLUCKED TOO SOON IS STILL EQUALLY DEAD . fingers have dug into the earth, hands have ripped out roots. it takes an equal amount of force to pull the trigger as it does to push a blade into a man's flesh. death follows him ever since he experienced it first. IT IS AN OLD FRIEND OF HIS. and all it ever gave him was a hunger ( he is starving, always starving even after he has just eaten. ) they could not give him back his life ⎯⎯⎯ but they gave him truth, and for that, he had to be grateful for the doctors who could not stitch him back together again.

the beeping of a machine lingers in his ears. the sound of his own heart, willing to survive but struggling to do so, haunting him in his dreams. she speaks, and his illusion is shattered. ❝ sorry. what ? ❞ hyacinthe, a flower not yet plucked from the soil of the earth. his eyes find the curve of her mouth as his lungs remember how to breathe without the aid of a machine. STREAKS OF RED ABOVE HER HEAD SPEAK OF SOMETHING HE CANNOT YET NAME. he wants to smear blood across her mouth. ❝ ��� got lost there for a second. ❞

fingers tap onto the flesh of his own thigh, rhythm, steady. like the beating of a heart ! ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ he's going to stab her. she would be even prettier when he was adorned with red. ❝ i do listen to you, promise. just thought of something i forgot. ❞ HE LIES SO EASILY THESE DAYS. ❝ another coffee ? or do want wine ? ❞ it doesn't matter that it's 10am.

@ncrthernattitude

[hatigave]

@galeksies​  wade  said  :     must you kill what you can ?    to dennis

                     THE ANSWER TO ASKED QUESTION IS SIMPLE     .      a hundredth times yes and a thousand times more   !      he must.  he must.   like a dog needs to bite,  like a wolf needs to devour,  he must too.  chosen child.   life ripped away from his palms.  he was resurrected with a purpose.   THE GODS HAD ALLOWED FOR HIM TO LIVE    only for him to do their dirty work.   ❝ must you be a   bitch,  eh   ? ❞   the answer to that must also be  yes.   dennis only loves him more for it. 

❝ it’s not my fault. ❞   lies slip from his tongue so carelessly these days.  ❝ you never believe me when i say that they  ran into my knife. ❞

[hatigave]

@g0dteeth wade , of course , can't help but lean forward and press a kiss to dennis' lips. a grin spreading 'cross his features as he does.

ONE DAY THEY WILL LEAVE THE CITY scrape enough money together for two bus passes that lead to nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Pluck coins from between the cushions of the couch, and crumpled bills from the depths of worn-to-thread trousers. A change of address should do them good. A new place for debt collectors to haunt and circle around like wolves hunting prey. New walls not yet marked with knives and stains. Call it a new beginning       ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ even when nothing is new as long as they just stick together ! Trading a city for the countryside does not change the fact that the stubborn heart beating in the darkness of his patched-together ribs continues for him.

❛ Not tonight. ❜ Dennis thinks when he forces himself to heat an abysmal meal of spaghetti in a can, splitting the meagre portion between them ( Wade gets two out of the three cardboard meatballs — sometimes love really is that simple. ) Tonight he is not going to beg for blood licked off the sharp edge of a knife ; tonight he won't whimper for fingers around his throat and a shoulder to rest his cheek against during a bumpy bus ride. Tonight, he is willing to drown. Allowing his lungs to fill up with the blood and chemical tomato sauce that also stains the side of the cupboard above the stove. ❝ — thought you hated me. ❞ He jokes, stepping on Wade's toes to chase after the ghost of a smile on the other's mouth. Come back you bitch.

Another kiss that tastes neither of spaghetti nor the lingering smouldering cigarette in the ashtray. They don't do it like this in the countryside ! ❝ Look who's affectionate tonight. Miss me, bud ? ❞

[hatigave]

@g0dteeth Wade send : [ AFTER ] : sender has just impulsively and passionately kissed the receiver without any warning nor apparent reason. how does the receiver respond? for Dennis.

LOVE FESTERS LIKE ROT seeps forth from a wound left untouched for too long. The poets describe it as red — like blood. But he knows better. He knows it to be yellow and green. Infected and ugly with its want. There is want in him still, even when the ghost of Wade's hand lingers on his cheek ( he pulls back, even when Dennis follows the curve of his mouth and the warmth of his body like a ghost. ) CHASING THAT WHICH KEEPS RUNNING. Lingering behind in the memory of something that does not wish to be ensnared or entrapped. His hands are empty when they hold only air. For once not soaked in blood, they are still not made for simple gentle pleasures. Love me or fucking die.

There is no more breath left in his lungs. Wade has stolen it all with that shit-eating smirk and his godforsaken attitude. He has been cut open and sacrificed anew. But this time, he wants it to happen over and over again. Dennis reaches out and pulls Wade back in by the nape of his neck until their noses crash together in a could-be kiss if the doctors only left him with a bit more coordination.

❝ What - ❞ he whispers against the curve of the other's mouth, fingernails digging into the flesh of Wade's neck. ❝ - want a fucking blowjob or something next ? ❞

[hatigave]

@g0dteeth Wade said [ WET ] : our muses find one another in a torrential downpour of rain, both soaking wet. to Dennis

HE HAS LEFT ( the apartment, the city, the country, the earth for all he fucking knows ) without as much as a note stuck to the fridge. Dennis knows Wade comes and goes like a summer storm rolling in over the high-rise skyline at the edge of town. EYES GLUED TO THE HEAVENS PRAY FOR THE BREAKING OF CLOUDS on the days between an empty bed and a half-finished cup of coffee growing mold on the countertop. He never has the heart to wipe away the evidence that the other was here ; that he was loved until the slatted base of their shared bed broke, and their initials were carved into the walls.

Kills grow sloppy as they change from being necessary to protect the innocent to love letters to the only man who knows to read them as such. Sinners are pinned to crosses like the saviour, but still, Wade does not return to kiss his temple and chase away the migraines. DENNIS SEES HIS FACE IN THE VISION OF STARS EXPLODING BEHIND HIS EYELIDS. Until one day, he thinks he's over him once again. He washes out the cup. Puts it in the cupboard after running boiling water over it five times. He plucks the stuck knives from the wall, even when he does not patch up the holes.

Wade's clothes are still everywhere in the apartment. Taking up space in the dresser and in the clean laundry basket Dennis hadn't had the strength to put away yet. But his memory is dust to a man who does not know how to clean. HE DOES NOT FIX THE BROKEN SLATS OF THE BED. Sleeps twisted on the wrong side of the bed until his back aches ( it does not hurt any more than his broken heart. )

He's doing better when he drags his broken body through the street at 3am to slide into the grocery store open all hours of the day. At least he thinks he is when he picks up real fucking oranges rather than orange-flavoured chocolate. They will come with him to rot in the fruit bowl he'd once thrown at Wade's head ; but it's the start of healing. THE SECOND HE SEES HIM, HE KNOWS HE HAS ALWAYS BEEN LYING TO HIMSELF. Wade stands in the pouring rain soaking them all as if he has never left, as if a cup of coffee is still waiting for him in their apartment. Dennis should chuck his key at the bastard's head.

❝ You left. ❞ He snarls like a beaten dog over the pouring rain clattering against the storefront and the metal bins lining the street. ❝ You left, you fucking cunt ! ❞ All it takes is a singular heartbeat before he crosses the street, sidestepping an oncoming car while flipping the driver off before he's close enough to knock Wade's teeth out. He should. HE DOESN'T ALL THE SAME. Instead, he settles for mending that which has long since broken, fingertips digging into the nape of Wade's neck and dragging him down until he can smash their lips together.

[hatigave]

@hegrudges Wade said : ∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver . for Dennis

WHAT WILL YOU BE NOW THAT ALL THE BLOOD HAS DRIED ? Not a better man than before, that much was certain. The omens above Wade's head swirl and pulse like a beating heart. He wants to rip it out of the other's rib cage. He wants to BITE INTO IT WITH VICIOUS TEETH like a snarling dog and tear it up like a man starved. Please Wade, let me. Let me crawl inside of you and make a home between your muscles and bones. The gun catches the light of the near-burned-out lightbulb flickering persistently in the kitchen. On, off, on, off.

❝Shooting me, really ?❞ Lamb turned wolf snarls, bares his teeth as if he is not afraid to tear out the other's throat ( he isn't. He only fears the loneliness he knows will follow. ) ❝Do you not want the satisfaction of tearing me limb from limb, do you not want to know what my blood would feel like ON YOUR HANDS ? Pathetic, bud. Only cowards kill with a gun.❞ Only cowards kill someone they care about, too. ❝Kill me with your hands, or do not bother at all.❞

He knows what it feels like to stab Wade over and over again. He knows the warmth of the other's blood         ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯   knows how heavenly it tastes at the corner of his mouth when he kisses him forcefully when Wade is choking on it. I HURT YOU BECAUSE I LOVE YOU is a confession he has carved time and time again into the other's skin. A confession that he would make a thousand times more if Wade would allow him.

❝Or do you want me to shoot you through the head this time   ⎯⎯⎯⎯ see if you have some brains in that thick skull of yours ? I could do it. Ask me and I will do it. You will just come crawling back, won't you.❞ Crawling like a dog, or a sinner crawling to the shrine of the divine.

[hatigave]

@hegrudges Wade send ✘ to run his fingers along Dennis' scars

'DEATH WOULD HAVE BEEN KINDER' is a statement he has often considered to be true. For the months spent in gruelling agony in a hospital bed were not easily forgotten or forgiven. HE HAD LOST ALL WHEN THE WORLD FELL OUT FROM UNDERNEATH HIM. Dennis remembers the way it felt to fall to the earth; the split-second shock of weightlessness before the dull impact of his body connecting with the pavement. In his dreams, he still hears the sharp crack of his skull bursting open. After, when he shaped his mouth around the vowels of his first-second-word ( as his mother referred to it. Turns out, rebirth is just as vicious and violent as birth itself. )

Hands of a ghost caressing his skin is where it starts; the downpour rolling in over the mountains, the droplets of lips against sensitive skin the omen of what is to come. His own hands take the shape of darkening clouds as they pull off the shirt stained with blood from his frame, EXPOSING THE SCENE OF THE CRIME where he knows one of his surgical scars to be. Purple even now, even when it has healed for years. An open palm of Wade's hand trailed maddeningly slow across its path down his torso, the filling river. The feverous quiver in his own thighs, the greedy sea. 

❝Gruesome, isn't it ?❞ He asks, even when he knows the answer to be yes. It is to him at least. A reminder of where he was cut open and rearranged to the liking of the doctors who just wouldn't let him fucking die. ❝Kiss it, and I will shove a blade between your ribs, YOU FREAK.❞ only a small part of him wants Wade to do it anyway.

[hatigave]

@maegicks wade said : " nodding off... " for the exhausted sender to fall asleep against the receiver's shoulder

LUNGS BEG FOR MORE . heart thundering against his ribs, demanding, always demanding more. his breaths are shallow, careful not to disturb the sleeping creature slumped against his side. the room is spinning, not enough oxygen inside his body. IT IS WORTH IT IF IT MEANS WADE GETS A GOOD SLEEP. trembling hand reaches out, hovers over the other's shoulder for a moment. another quivering breath collected through gritted teeth. to love is to be known, to be known is to be destroyed. ⎯⎯⎯⎯ and, by god, does he find himself capable of love all of a sudden !

the lamb turned wolf is sorry for the blood resting on wade's clothes ; wishes more than anything that it was his own. to bleed time and time again for the other would be a luxury, a gift of fleeting mortality. hand touched skin, refuses to shove a blade into the flesh for once. THUMB STROKES ACROSS SCARRED SKIN. soothes the sleeping man off into the land of dreams. he hopes wade dreams, hopes that the visions behind his eyelids are pleasant. maybe one day, dennis himself would experience it too. the kindness of a sleep that did not turn violent. perhaps one day he could see wade even when he slept.

❝ good night – ❞ palm of his hand clings to the other's shoulder. refuses to let go. ❝ – asshole. ❞

[hatigave]

A BOY ALREADY DEAD IS NOT EASILY KILLED . inside a bruised rib cage a heart still beats ⎯⎯⎯ he wants life as feverishly as life wants him. fingers dig into the fabric of lover's spandex. DISGUSTING IT FEELS underneath hands which have so often touched burial soil. wade is stained in equal measure. blood looks beautiful on him ! ❝ LOVE ME, YOU COWARD. ❞

he is eager to demand. even more so to pull the cockroach that refuses to die closer to him. fingertips snake underneath a mask, pull it up ever so slightly ( his ghosts tell him to kill ⎯⎯⎯ HIS HEART TELLS HIM TO LOVE ) ❝ love me or kill me. either or, bud. make up your mind. ❞

@maegicks wade ♡'d