#racointeur

[embodies]

there is a whimsical reverence for the time that once was,   an envy for the naivety he had once been privy to.   equally, a frustration to all those still living in that lap of luxury   —   small towns like derry so unflinching to the cesspool of dread they were wading in, clinging to the entrails of a youth long since dead. their hands are slippery with blood and they don’t even fucking know it.   he has scoured each newspaper clipping avidly, seen stories of the butcher of the barrens, gritted his teeth at the meager lines of defense put in place   (   seriously   :   a curfew   ?   as if the battering ram of evil would be dissuaded, tucked into bed after seven   )   and mourning the lives lost to ignorance. to real, tangible threats dismissed as hoaxes and hysterics. talks of sewer floods and clown sightings and missing children, massacres in broad daylight.   the monster prevails.

mike has ruminated over the rumours for long enough, hands still tapping a skittish tune where his missing fingers used to be. he has become gluttonous for closure   (   be that in the form of redemption   /   revenge   :   he hasn’t quite figured that one out yet   )   and it is in these very tales of disbelief that he finds it. in the shadows that walk at night and the boogeymen under the bed, he seeks what the human eye is so adamant not to unsheathe.   he frequents the witching hour,   seeks its occupants with one goal in mind. to extinguish them, snuffed at the wick and incapable of further harm.   he tears himself away from the pages.

to become lost in the past is to accept it.   he returns the book to its archives, thanks the librarian   (   nice guy,   he thinks, so prompt in finding him the right catalogues, as if he either knew the shelves like the back of his hand or had a vested personal interest in the subject   )   and steps into the crisp outside of a town in ruins. it is a summer deceptive with greenery, trees sullen with the browns of its autumnal onset. the colder months are looming, hiemal.   waiting.   mike roams the outskirts of the park, a jokester turned wallflower overnight   —   he thinks he sees a flicker,   red balloons running rampant amidst a placid sky   —   when he’s jostled, world turned asunder by collision.

speaking of running rampant.

❛   whoa, whoa,   whoa,   hey   !   watch where you’re going—   there’s kids playin’ around here.   ❜   the surge of revolution   :   then the pangs of realisation. the ragged breaths tearing from the other man’s lungs are not of a man on his daily run through the park, nor of a thief making for a quick getaway. the air he steals is not for exertion, but fear.

❛   —hey.   ❜   more tentative this time. compassion crawls on his person like a second skin, unfamiliar and shivering.   ❛   you okay   ?   is   . . .   someone after you or something   ?   ❜   a look up, over the stranger’s shoulder. nothing but cheer practice, dog walks, and picnics.   it’s too good to be true.

@racointeur​.

#racointeur #racointeur01. #we love the mike hanlon cameo appearance we really do #do NOT feel the need to match length pls pls pls i'm. testing my writing back out #( * as i walk through the valley of death‚ i shall fear no evil. / re: mike munroe. ) #( * mike munroe / writings. )

[vermillionbook]

SURPRISE :  for one muse to come home and find the other already inside.    

                      𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐗 ,   foundation woven with wicks ready for the match .   souls of flame tempted tragedy each waking moment ,   to melt their carefully crafted façade .   once an inferno ,   her heart flickered down to meek candle light ,   exhausted from suffocation .   

                             this suffocation was not violent .                                                 no ,   he doesn’t love you enough for that . 

                              it was merely a deprivation of oxygen ,   her life placed into an air tight cage till all that existed was smoke .   happiness tasted like ash across the tongue ,   the charred remains of her heart mixed into water for  forty ,   henry to paint his dreams with .   she couldn’t let him do that ,   couldn’t be snuffed out .   not like beck or candace .   

                               gaze drifted to the cabinet ,   a contemplation rather than impulsivity .   something twisted within her ribcage ,   pain ringing in her heart at the death of a dream .   soulmates aren’t real ,   this was never real .   resolve coated the sting of that wound as she straightened ,   a single tear shed for what could never be . 

                                dead bolt clicked  &  love wiped on the mask of composure ,   attention focused on the single dish in the sink .   @racointeur was supposed to be working ,   playing out a new love story with her successor ,   yet he was here .   bitterness bubbled like bile along her throat ,   yet her voice still remained gentle .   “   you’re home early .   how was work ?   ”   

LIST OF SCENARIOS .

#racointeur #[ LOVE QUINN ] > answered ask . #[ LOVE QUINN ] > a white picket fence with dead dreams inside / CHAPTER II . #[ QUEUE ] > executions in waiting .

[notcruel]

@racointeur​ gets a starter even if bee didn’t like the post.

Butting heads wasn’t new, but as her anger started to boil over she still continued on. “How do I politely say,” She thought for a moment knowing nothing she was about to say was going to be polite. "Suck my fucking dick?” She knew that he hated rhetorical questions. “You're so nauseating, how do people stomach it?” How was she stomaching it even if there was this push and pull of their relationship proving that she probably was the only person who actually could stomach him. 

#racointeur

[kschmidts-a]

YOINK from mr richard tozier. so sorry kate <3

she  never  stood  a  chance.  absolutely  no  way  for  her  to  when she's  jumped  at.  an  ambush!  it's  the  only  way  richie  tozier's  able to  take  advantage  of  her  tiny  frame.  how  does  she  know  it's him?  he's  the  only  one  with  the  audacity  to  try.  try  and succeed,  more  like.  if  only  her  attention  wasn't  glued  to  that goddamn  walkman,  but  how  could  she  have  known?  all  she sees  is  a  blur  of  a  person  before  up  and  up  she  goes,  a  yell barely  managing  to  escape  her  lips  before  she  feels  them  begin to  move.  it's  awful,  being  flung  over  shoulders,  but  hands  are balled  into  fists,  grasping  at  the  thin  fabric  of  his  shirt,  ❝  put me  the  fuck  down,  tozier! ❞ and..  she  knows  he  won't,  not  when he's  finally  got  the  one  up  on  her  like  this.  she's sure he's smug-- how can he not be? she's red cheeked, wild eyed, frazzled, and so, very, very, angry. ire simmering, seething until it brings a fresh set of profanities to mind-- profanities she wastes no time in letting loose,  but there's only laughter in response. and something in that sound breaks through the anger, a twitch of a smile playing at her lips, if only for a moment. there's no denying his energy was infectious, but kate? well her pride and rage are much, much stronger, ❝ are you done yet, fucker? don't you have actual friends to piss off? ❞

✱  prompt ( x ) ft. @racointeur

#kate is literally the feral tiny dog gif #while also like 'k but he better not dROP ME' #racointeur #━━ ❛ THEY SAY I'M A CONTROL FREAK DRIVEN BY THE GREED TO SUCCEED ❋ ◤ v: ??? ◢

[fangedbrbiemoved1]

@racointeur​ : 🌿   noa

                     QUITE THE PLACE TO COME TO A STOP IN THE FORBES HOME. not that  caroline was complaining. noa was beautiful and had quickly become someone caroline was intrigued by. her personality, her kindness. and so much more. the vampire had developed a big crush on her and the more time she was around her, the more the vampiress grew flustered. eyes glanced up at the mistletoe that hung and caroline cleared her throat. “ so uh, mistletoe!” she smiled. “not sure where you stand with traditions but...” words trailed off softly. and the nervousness grew. sure. “ can...i...kiss you?” 

#racointeur #i got some meme replies in queue for you btw! #care asking permission is something she does so much when it comes to kissing etc #btw if you wanna continue this i swear it will get better and my replies will get longer :3

[shadowbrn]

robin  buckley  (  @racointeur​  )  said  to  tabitha  hayworthe  ;  ❝ i’m, like, the most trustworthy person. ❞

every  horror  movie  ever  has  taught  tabby  that  robin’s  words  are  the  worst  thing  a  person  can  say.  the  most  trustworthy  is  the  least  trustworthy,  the  best  survivor  is  the  first  victim  .  .  .  so  tabby  can  only  respond  to  robin  with  a  frown,  ❝  you  talk  a  big  game.  ❞  tabby  decides  on  her  words  carefully,  keeping  her  eyes  on  the  other  girl  with  her  arms  crossed  protectively  over  her  chest,  ❝  you  realize  that  almost  makes  me  trust  you  less?  ❞  tabby  asked,  arching  an  eyebrow,  ❝  i  mean,  i  get  it.  we  all  want  people  to  think  we’re  trustworthy  .  .  .  but  it’s  something  you  have  to  prove.  and  now  you  just  made  it  so  you  have  to  work  even  harder.  ❞

#racointeur #racointeur ( robin buckley ) #—— ic. tabby hayworthe #—— answered #q.

[pinball77]

@racointeur “Would it help if I stayed?” | max.

There’s a long pause—the silence in the hospital room had been so thick and tense that the idle sounds of beeping machines and hospital staff shuffling around couldn’t slice through it. He didn’t expect to see her here—sitting at the foot of his bed as his arm was out in a cast and a sling; broken nose bandaged to keep it in place and the wound in his shoulder wrapped tight. Maybe she was here because her stupid brother was getting the wounds in his ribs patched up. Was she seeing Vance out of pity?

The question confused him—Max was different then most girls he knew. He didn’t understand why she was fine with hanging around him. Out of all of her little friends, she was the only one he tolerated the most ( minus his cousin…sister…whatever ). Gaze glanced away; colour dusted upon cheeks and he would Immediately blame it on a fever if it was mentioned. But people were weirdly nice to him in this town—maybe not everyone—but she was. His uncle was. Jane was. That’s enough for him to be weirded out by it. But Max was…she was different. It almost scared him; the way he felt about her.

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲. 𝐈𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞? 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫?” He couldn’t help but wince when he breathed, teeth clenching in frustration from the loss of his fight in the arcade and now his current situation—though his gaze had finally met her and therefore, Vance found himself…relaxing. A sigh left the blonde and he shrugged; defeated. He wasn’t one to admit needing somebody here but…her company was surprisingly appreciated. “𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡. 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.”

#in character. — | 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑. #verse 003. — welcome to hawkins. — | 𝐅𝐎𝐗 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐍. #racointeur #anyway now they hold hands /j

[pumpkinstabs-moving]

@racointeur​ asked: ❛ what, you like to watch? you goddamn sicko. ❜  /    richie... 👉👈

for someone so mentally weak looking,  someone who looks like they’ll pass out if faced with a bad scare,  he sure is bold.  michael thinks it’s funny--  would laugh if he was the type to laugh,  but instead,  he simply tilts his head at the man.  it’s two in the morning,  an odd time to be walking around.  the truth is it’s not michael’s first time stalking richie like this,  and it won’t be the last,  either.  he’s strangely entranced with him,  even with how vulgar and loud he can be.  

there is nothing said from the masked man,  attention briefly turning to the broken down car down the street.  makes sense as to why richie is walking.  michael has no intention of interrupting him or hurting him,  no--  but he’d like to keep his eye on him.  after all,  this late at night,  he’s not the only dangerous one walking the streets. 

#michael vc: yeah i like watching you walk and cuss to yourself what of it #racointeur

[embodies]

‘i let you down.’ immediate pain for sam and dean

soft angst starters   :   specify muse or leave it to chance.

he is no stranger to disappointment,   to the crippling weight of it on a guilty conscience. his heart sinks like a stone in a chest full of grit   —   the soil of a man's heart is stonier, a man grows what he can and tends it   —   for the real letdown here is dean if his brother has been made to feel that way. all his life's twists and turns have revolved in one obsessive apex and boiled down to a singular objective.   to live is to have purpose.   he had cradled his purpose as a newborn and declared it so henceforth. christened with affection and a guardian angel within moments.   sammy.

❛   don't say that.   don't ever say that.   ❜   he has always been coarse in his ways, more rebuttal than reassurance, more sand than paper, more solitude than solace.   sugar - coating is not a luxury he has ever known, his fortitudes found in the rapid bite of his sentences and the teeth of his words. the instinctual urge of the older sibling rears its head   :   to pick him up by the scruff of the neck and lick his proverbial wounds. the self - saboteur wishes to press them, make it hurt and render himself alone.

❛   damn it,   i should never've dragged you into this. what if—   it only takes one bad hunt and then you're wiped off the face of the earth. do you get that   ?   huh,   capeesh   ?   you could've been killed.   ❜

on my watch.

@racointeur.

#racointeur #i Care them do u care them #( * your chest is a wall of fire‚ your soul borne of thorns‚ your heart a storm. / d. winchester. ) #( * dean winchester / writings. ) #( * misc / ask message. )

[notcruel]

@racointeur​ gets  a starter

Maddy continued moving to the beat of the song, moving closer to Fiona. While she hadn’t expected Fiona to be into what she was doing she had to admit that she had a certain charm. Fake smiles and coquettish touches to guys with bigger wallets she thought this was the easy and fun part of what she did. “Come with me.” She whispered into Fiona’s ear, only attracting more eyes in their general direction. “I don’t even wanna be here any more.” She wasn’t even sure where Jasmine had run off to, but that wasn’t important. “Unless you actually wanna give that guy the hummer he’s asking for.” 

#racointeur #dyn: maddy x fiona

[scribedhorror]

@racointeur​ || meme || accepting “ what the hell were you thinking?! you could’ve been killed! “    steve

Stunned blue eyes landed on the brunette, his jaw dropping as he worked on how to respond. Honestly, Bill had not been expecting such a strong reaction to come from him. 

“But I wasn’t?” He managed, brows raised on his forehead, still staring at Steve. Honestly, he hadn’t been thinking at all. Just doing what he thought needed to be done like he always did, not  considering the consequences it could have for himself. With a sheepish shrug Bill ran a hand through his hair. “Someone needed to do it...” Better him who had nothing to lose than anyone else.

#racointeur #v: [ politics always change stories never do ] #; meme reply [ we'll remember in our dreams ]

[ghostofaformerself]

SAM WINCHESTER ( @racointeur​ ) asked for a consult on their case FILE ID: settling dust — actions

[ hair ]: while in the process of checking the receiver for injuries or other signs of harm, the sender gently brushes several strands of hair from their eyes.

     ACTIONS ARE HURRIED. she can feel it in the way he so frenziedly looks her over. fingers travel over exposed spin, checking for any signs of injury—internal or external.

     ❝sam,❞ it’s soft. ❝sam.❞ he doesn’t seem to hear her. his focus is on ensuring she’s not injured because she just hauled herself out of a burning building ( with a little help ) after doing her usual reckless stunts.

     ❝sam.❞ this one is more assertive, a little louder, and finally forces him to stop and look at her. ❝i’m fine. i’m okay.❞ she sees tension ease out of him a little more as hands come up to gently push messy curls from her face.

     a smile. ❝i’m fine.❞

#( case file: answers. ) understanding the motive helps build the profile. #( case id: verse — supernatural 𝟶𝟸. ) people don’t just disappear; other people stop looking for them. #racointeur

[shadowbrn]

julian  blackthorn  (  @racointeur​  )  said  to  kit  herondale  ;  ❝ you stay here. this is way too dangerous. ❞

julian  probably  has  a  point.  kit  and  ty  most  likely  should  stay  behind  .  .  .  but  kit’s  done  listening  to  people.  he’d  been  his  dad’s  little  shadow  for  years,  and  now  that  he  knew  the  reality  of  his  life?  he  wasn’t  doing  that  anymore.  he  may  not  have  been  a  lifelong  shadowhunter,  but  he  was  useful.  he  could  handle  anything  the  world  had  to  offer.  ❝  no.  ❞  kit  kept  a  level  head  and  calm  tone  as  he  spoke,  ❝  ty  and  i  are  only  two  years  younger  than  you.  and  i  grew  up  going  in  and  out  of  the  shadow  market.  if  anything,  i  should  be  running  this  mission.  i  belong  there.  you’ll  just  be  viewed  as  the  law  coming  in  to  ruin  everything.  ❞

#racointeur #racointeur ( julian blackthorn ) #—— answered #—— ic. kit herondale #q.