purposefully-lost
tell her I'm not dead yet
indie multi-muse rp blog. penned by Q :)
9312 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
thoughtfulgardenhandszipper-blog
Untitled
anotherarbitraryblog
When Posts Get Too Long
luck-of-the-drawings
Art Blog of Lucky
currentlywishingforlove-blog
live in the trip
furiousflowerfry
ThisBitch
Text
15 year old alex getting the pregnancy nightmares
#andy: why do you look like shit today#chris: i had a bad dream#andy: oh :( was it about jonny?#chris: no i was pregnant#andy: oh gross
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chasing the fog somewhere in Switzerland by @90377
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
He'd been starting to think that it'd all been a dream. If it weren't the marks still just barely visible on his neck, he would've been convinced by now. There wasn't any logical reason he could think of that his encounter with Victory could've really happened. It especially wasn't the kind of thing to happen to him.
He typically didn't pay all that much mind to the news, had a tendency to just zone out if he put it on in the mornings or some story got discussed over the radio, but since Vi, he couldn't help himself. Every murder or missing person he'd heard of since that night made him wonder what had been behind it. Every bar full of strangers had him looking for a cat-like glint in someone's eyes, every bleached head of hair put a sweet tug in his chest until he realized it couldn't be the man he'd met before. He both wanted to see him again and desperately hoped to forget about it all before it drove him crazy.
Laying on his back and slid up under a client's car, Charlie chewed at his lip and still tried not to think of Victory. There'd been a story on the radio this morning about a missing young woman and he kept going back to it, kept wondering just how many people like Vi there were. He'd mentioned family, Charlie vaguely remembered that-- were they the same? When he'd mentioned Italy...
Swearing at the sound of his name, Charlie pushed himself out from underneath the car, hissed through his teeth as he banged his head on the way up, and stood to take a peek around the garage for the source. Grease had gotten smeared onto one of his cheeks from his hands, and his hair was messily falling out of the half-ponytail he'd pulled it into. His eyes landed on the figure that'd walked in, halfway looking like something straight from a noir novel if it weren't midday, then widened. The voice and the smile beneath the sunglasses hadn't left him a bit. "Shit, uh-- Victory?" He asked, staring at him for a moment. "What're you doin' here?"
It hadn't been too hard. All it took was asking the bar tender if he knew any local mechanics named Charlie and he was passed a worn business card. Reimes Auto. It was convincing himself it was alright to go that was terrible.
Vi spent a week with the card sitting on his bedside table, his eyes finding it every time he got up or went to bed. It wasn't sane, was it? To think he and Charlie could be anything more than passing strangers. They were from two completely different worlds, and their brief meeting barely scratched the surface of that. But it could be nice, couldn't it? Something casual! Something where he could wake up a little early and stop by to chat every once in a while. That wouldn't be so bad.
The manor was quiet as he dressed himself. The only people up were some of the staff, and they didn't care enough to wonder what he was up to. Vi yawned as he tied his coat and frowned a little bit at how warm he already felt. Spring was here, and the air outside was breezy, but fair too nice for such a heavy jacket. He didn't have much of a choice, though. If he wanted to step outside while the sun was still high, he had to keep himself covered as much as he possibly could. And by the time he was finished, he'd added a wide brim hat, sunglasses, and a pair of leather gloves. It could've been stylish if it wasn't over sixty degrees outside.
Sneaking downstairs, he peeked around the living room and kitchen just to make sure nobody was awake before slipping out the door.
Victory took in a deep breath. He drummed his thumbs along his steering wheel and peeked out the window to stare at the garage he'd parked in front of. Pulling the keys from the ignition, he put them in his breast pocket and eased himself outside. He felt completely swamped already; he could feel the sweat making the fabric of his clothing cling to his skin. Peeking at the glass of the driver's side door, he frowned at his pink cheeks and straighted up. He could survive it for a few minutes, right? He just wanted to talk. Vi shoved his discomfort to the back of his mind and moved towards the shop.
"Charlie?" Stepping inside, he hummed quietly. The air smelled like oil, gasoline, and faintly of sweat. It was fairly typical-- He glanced over the array of tools and metal mess and smiled. "Are you around? I hope you're not too busy."
@purposefully-lost
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
The man of his dreams. Charlie laughed at that. He was far from anything worth wanting, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. He was certain last night was gonna hit him like a truck later on, but for now, there was something comforting to it. He had the strange feeling that Vi had shared something important with him, and he was gonna carry that close to his heart. It'd be a disservice to Vi not to.
He got up to follow him, accepting the shirt and pulling it on while his gaze followed Vi back to his bed. He watched him slide off his boots and his jewelry, wondering for just a moment if this was his same routine every morning. If it was always the jewelry, and then his shoes, if it was always this same time of morning. A part of him wanted to know. The rest of him knew he shouldn't. Barring his own instability, he wasn't sure how well he could take knowing Vi's connection to the death any more closely.
His gaze soft, he watched him for another moment longer. He wasn't sure how much he could blame him for all of that. It wasn't as if he seemed to enjoy what he was.
God, he thought. Something like Vi was real, and he was going to have to walk out of the door and pretend he hadn't seen a thing. Nothing about moving past this was going to be easy.
"You, uh..." He hesitated, his gaze falling as he thought. Charlie frowned and looked up at him again. "You.. seem like a good person, Victory," he said quietly. He tried to offer him a small smile. "I'll keep an eye out for you. You, uh.." He reached up to scratch at his neck, then paused when his hand found the bandaging there. His smile deepened just a little. "You take care."
He didn't want to leave. But he did, giving Vi one more sad smile before he slipped out into the early daylight. Taking a quiet breath, he glanced at the motel door, then started walking.
He refused dinner again. He always did. Ever since he was a child, he couldn't bring himself to sit in that dining room and watch someone be bled into crystal glasses for his father's entertainment. The spectacle left him sicker than it did hungry. He could only think of that French dish-- Ortolan. A tiny songbird bird is caught and forcefed until fat and helpless before being drowned in liquor and eaten whole. The participants of the meal were supposed to wear shrouds over their faces to hide their sin from each other and God, but his father indulged his terrible gluttony happily and in full view.
No, Victory was out instead, ready to offer an ending just as cruel to another person, just in a way he could stomach.
The bar smelled like stale beer. If he wasn't so hungry, he sometimes spent a few hours alone in a booth just to listen to the chatter of people going on about their lives. He wasn't like them, and he could only just barely pretend to be, but he held onto it, scribbling down snippets and thoughts into the notebook he carried along with him. The joy and heartache of the human species were inspirations like no other. He didn't have that time tonight, though. Despite his staunch avoidance of his father's meals, he was still hungry, and trying to put it off any longer would only leave him sick.
Vi leaned against the bartop and frowned, flicking his eyes over the floor. It was slim pickings tonight. He tried to limit himself to people he thought could survive the meal-- Or at least wouldn't be missed if they couldn't. Everyone here seemed like they had a tribe of their own. They were laughing and talking and leaning against each other in ways that made his chest twist and ache; the loneliness was nearly as bad as the hunger. Pushing himself up, he started to inch towards the door. There were always other spots he could try.
Before he could reach the door, he found his gaze pulled towards a booth that seemed different from the others. The inhabitant was alone; there were a couple of empty glasses off to the side while a half-drunk one sat in front of him. There didn't seem to be anything or anyone for him to celebrate with. He was alone, just like him. Vi hesitated, but the ache in his stomach trumped any second thoughts he had.
Approaching the booth, he let himself slide into the empty seat opposite of the young man and found himself speechless for just a moment. He'd only caught his silhouette when he'd been near the door, but up close, he couldn't help but stare. Beneath the dejected expression, Victory felt his strange heart flutter as he admired the strong structure of such a lovely face. Clearing his throat, he warmed a little and hummed, his lips pulling into a small smile.
"I could feel your heavy heart from across the bar." He said and propped an elbow on the table, placing his cheek in his hand. The English dripping from his lips was perfect, but dressed in something elegant and foreign. The rest of him seemed about the same-- From the dark half-buttoned silk shirt he wore to the shock of white-grey hair framing a youthful face, he didn't exactly fit in with the surroundings Peridot eyes peeked over shaded glasses, almost too green as they searched the man's face. His nails were filed and immaculate, as was the rest of him. There wasn't a blemish anywhere on his visible skin. If perfection was something attainable, Victory was very, very close. "You're far too pretty to look so sad. What's ailing you?"
@purposefully-lost
31 notes
·
View notes
Note
Vi biting Charlie's lip and neck/wherever just enough to draw blood but not enough to really bleed?? Stealing little tastes from him when they're affectionate 😔💕❤️💕❤️💕❤️ Also Charlie getting microdosed with venom so he's always left feeling all fuzzy and calm when they're done ❤️
YES?? 😭❤️❤️❤️ The fear and doubt doesn't get to seep in so much for Charlie when they're together?? He's too fuzzy and caught up in Vi 😔❤️❤️❤️❤️
1 note
·
View note
Text
White-tailed deer
By: Leonard Lee Rue III
From: The World of the White-tailed Deer
1962
593 notes
·
View notes
Text
Driving Through the Big Pines, Central Oregon, Photo by Mark Klett, 1981
423 notes
·
View notes
Text
Charlie and Vi are answering the truly important question of if a catboy and a dogboy can fall in love
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Charlie is going to be SO obsessed with Vi's kitty traits fhdbXNDN
#he LOVES it when he gets to scratch at the fur on vi's back#also the purrs.. vi getting Charlie all flustered just from being comfortable and purring dndDNDN he's SO charmed by it#and so shocked every time he realizes vi's really comfortable next to him 😔❤️❤️❤️
1 note
·
View note
Text
Shitty reference of what your local catboy looks like from the back dhHMCKVJ
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tried to find something and ended up skimming the Rabbit/Alex thread where Alex kills someone/Rabbit cuts him off and it's never not funny how offended Alex gets about being called easy
#like babe i understand i get it. but also you were so easy when it came to Rabbit fhdbDBDB#I don't think he ever lets that one go#in the verse where rabbit survives the gunshot and comes back a few years later its still a card Alex plays when they bicker fhdbNDFN
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Apparently it's like a Thing that horses with colic (or a specific form of colic maybe??) have to be kept walking / moving in order to let it resolve and ive seen stories of people walking for several hours on end in an attempt to keep a horse in motion
And all I'm saying is Charlie's definitely done that
#charlie's grandparents telling vi or Sabrina about a night during one summer#where he spent an entire night out with a colicky horse#most of them walking with it in the hopes itd recover 😔❤️#ALSO also one of emile's horses getting colic and after an hour or two will insisting he get some rest and taking over to sit/walk with it /#make sure it doesnt lay down
1 note
·
View note
Text
I can't remember if I've already given this curse to Charlie but I definitely think he's one of those guys who every girl he ever dated / had a crush on / ect turned out to be a lesbian or trans
1 note
·
View note
Text
Vampire Charlie but he works as one of emile's ranch hands
#WAIT.. maybe while he's recovering from the whole time he was being held by vi's family??#getting a job as a stablehand for a while bc its quiet and distant from other people#fbdDBDB livestock guard dog...
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Charlie at his grandparents ranch getting stuck as the babysitter for the cows
#Vi calling him: where ARE you??#charlie: im babysitting#vi: what#charlie: the cows left me in the pasture with all their babies
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
There was something wrong with him. He'd already known that, even before tonight, but here was a man who'd admitted to intending to kill him, and Charlie felt his heart skip as his hands were taken. Brushing his thumb over his cheek, he felt before he heard the low rumble that came up from his throat. Charlie blinked, his eyes widening. Vi had already reminded him of a cat before-- that was a purr. His face warmed as he watched him, both trying to grapple with how strange it was and deeply caught in the sound. The soft tone to his voice and the way he peered at Charlie with lidded eyes only made him warm further.
The picture that he painted sounded so sweet. Charlie let his hands fall to his lap, his own expression softening with something ache-y as he pulled away. "I- I liked it, too," he admitted quietly. "Gettin' to know you. I.."
He let himself trail. The choice had already been made to part ways. It hadn't even really been a choice, just the best thing to do. He laughed soft and glanced down at his hands. "Can't say I'll be forgettin' you, either. I kind of... I don't know what I'm gonna do, knowin' what I do now. ...Probably nothing, if I'm honest.."
There wasn't any realnthing he could do with that knowledge. He'd just keep living the same as he had been. Peering up at Vi again, he bit down at the inside of his lip. He reached out to trace his fingers along his jaw again, then leaned close to pull him into another kiss.
He took his time with it. If he wasn't going to have another with Victory, he might as well have shared a kiss with him that he could remember. He tilted his head to search deep, his tongue slipping past his lips to feel at the teeth that had dug into him the night before. Something about it was more exciting than terrifying and he slipped his arms around him, kissing him until he was breathless and forced to break. Charlie sat back from him and looked up, offering a small, soft smile. "Thanks for, uh.. not killin' me. Wouldn't've got to do that, otherwise."
He refused dinner again. He always did. Ever since he was a child, he couldn't bring himself to sit in that dining room and watch someone be bled into crystal glasses for his father's entertainment. The spectacle left him sicker than it did hungry. He could only think of that French dish-- Ortolan. A tiny songbird bird is caught and forcefed until fat and helpless before being drowned in liquor and eaten whole. The participants of the meal were supposed to wear shrouds over their faces to hide their sin from each other and God, but his father indulged his terrible gluttony happily and in full view.
No, Victory was out instead, ready to offer an ending just as cruel to another person, just in a way he could stomach.
The bar smelled like stale beer. If he wasn't so hungry, he sometimes spent a few hours alone in a booth just to listen to the chatter of people going on about their lives. He wasn't like them, and he could only just barely pretend to be, but he held onto it, scribbling down snippets and thoughts into the notebook he carried along with him. The joy and heartache of the human species were inspirations like no other. He didn't have that time tonight, though. Despite his staunch avoidance of his father's meals, he was still hungry, and trying to put it off any longer would only leave him sick.
Vi leaned against the bartop and frowned, flicking his eyes over the floor. It was slim pickings tonight. He tried to limit himself to people he thought could survive the meal-- Or at least wouldn't be missed if they couldn't. Everyone here seemed like they had a tribe of their own. They were laughing and talking and leaning against each other in ways that made his chest twist and ache; the loneliness was nearly as bad as the hunger. Pushing himself up, he started to inch towards the door. There were always other spots he could try.
Before he could reach the door, he found his gaze pulled towards a booth that seemed different from the others. The inhabitant was alone; there were a couple of empty glasses off to the side while a half-drunk one sat in front of him. There didn't seem to be anything or anyone for him to celebrate with. He was alone, just like him. Vi hesitated, but the ache in his stomach trumped any second thoughts he had.
Approaching the booth, he let himself slide into the empty seat opposite of the young man and found himself speechless for just a moment. He'd only caught his silhouette when he'd been near the door, but up close, he couldn't help but stare. Beneath the dejected expression, Victory felt his strange heart flutter as he admired the strong structure of such a lovely face. Clearing his throat, he warmed a little and hummed, his lips pulling into a small smile.
"I could feel your heavy heart from across the bar." He said and propped an elbow on the table, placing his cheek in his hand. The English dripping from his lips was perfect, but dressed in something elegant and foreign. The rest of him seemed about the same-- From the dark half-buttoned silk shirt he wore to the shock of white-grey hair framing a youthful face, he didn't exactly fit in with the surroundings Peridot eyes peeked over shaded glasses, almost too green as they searched the man's face. His nails were filed and immaculate, as was the rest of him. There wasn't a blemish anywhere on his visible skin. If perfection was something attainable, Victory was very, very close. "You're far too pretty to look so sad. What's ailing you?"
@purposefully-lost
31 notes
·
View notes