vicious skin

Reaper’s Mask

Just a lil thing. basically, Reaper decides to take off his mask for the reader and angsty fluff ensues

enjoy!

W: teratophilia (attraction to mosnters)

-

You watched him from across the room , scuffling with his armor and cursing under his breath. Somehow, you found it endearing. He removed belts and hard shells of armor and stood there in only an un-armored cloak. He turned and walked toward you, only gloves and under-clothing still on. You smiled at him as you sat on the bed and he reached a hand toward you. You grabbed it and brushed a thumb over the metallic claws on his fingers. “Take these off, darling” you smiled gently and he just groaned, sitting on the bed and quickly pulling you into his lap. He scooted back so he rested on the pillows near the backboard. You rested in his lap and pushed your nose up under his chin, wrapping an arm around him. “Always so needy…” he sighed out and leaned back as you planted a kiss on his neck. “I know”. But as he moved his hand, the points of the makeshift claws ground on your skin and you hissed quietly through your teeth. “Please, take those off”. Again, he puffed and this time slipped them off,setting them on the nightstand. He set his hand on your thigh and you sighed. “Better..”. He bumped his mask against your forehead as if to give you a kiss. You chuckled, as it seemed he had forgotten he had it on. You grabbed the bottom and tilted it up lightly. He whacked your hand off and moved in a puff of smoke across the room. You puffed as you just fell into the bed you turned and spoke “Oh will you stop that, you remind me of the damn cheshire cat” he only grumbled and stood there, readjusting his mask. “Why won’t you let me-” he cut you off. “I /can’t/”. You watched him as he sat on the bed and you approached, nuding between his knees. You rested hands on his shoulders. “But why?”. “God, you’re so demanding” he hissed “And you’re dramatic, now let me see”. “NO.” it came out loud and harsh. So you backed away but he reached out and pulled you back, almost desperately. He buried his mask in your shoulder. “I’m sorry….but I can’t.” “Tell me why’ you spoke softly and brushed a hand over his hair. “It’s terrifying…please, darling, it’ll just push you away” “What is?” “My face, dammit. I…I don’t look human anymore..” his voice didn’t sound like his. You tilted his head up under his chin to look into the dark holes of the mask where his eyes would be. You spoke softly and calmly. “Do you really think I care about what you look like? Granted, it’s a plus and you’re damn gorgeous. But I didn’t fall in love with you for your face. Please….let me see.” you lightly brushed a thumb under the bottom tip of the mask. He sighed and stayed still. Suddenly, he leaned forward and on you again. But you smiled and laughed gently. You pushed his shoulders back slowly. “Fine. but you asked for this. You take it off.” you smiled at him and pulled up the tip slowly. He didn’t move to stop you so you kept going. You slipped it over his nose and on top of his head. You finally looked down at him and gasped. He gave a visible grimace but wouldn’t meet your eyes. What you could see of his face from where you stood was scarred and torn, echos of his past battles and losses. But somehow the dark, curly hair you loved to touch was still mostly intact, with only a few scars littering where hair wouldn’t grow anymore. You slipped your whole hand under his jaw and lifted his head up, though he protested at first. “It’s alright, look at me.” you spoke very tenderly. He finally did, glancing up with eyes you had never seen before. They were black where white should be and a dark crimson where they used to be brown. There were small cuts all around them, likely from the explosion that had put them out of commission. You examined him carefully and he didn’t say a word. His mouth did still have lips but on the sides, there were missing patches of skin separated by thin, nearly stringy skin. In the areas that there was no skin, a vicious bite of pointed teeth was revealed. You tried to meet his eyes but he wouldn’t let you. So you tilted his head up with both hands. “Look at me….please.” you were very quiet and soft. But eventually, he looked at you with the red gaze, eyes worried. But you only kissed his forehead and he let out an almost audible whimper. You pulled back and looked at him, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Gabriel, you’re beautiful.” he looked so confused. How could you see him like that? He hated his face. To the point where it could even be considered a weakness.”I…I’m not. I don’t even look human. Im such a freak, how can you-” but you cut him off with a soft kiss on his lips that you could finally feel for the first time. . His eyes widened and he considered pushing you away but he stayed there and kissed you back. Soon enough you pulled back for air and smiled at him, brushing a finger over his cheek. “You’re insane.” but it sounded more like a confused question than a statement. “Maybe I am. But I can tell you truthfully that you’re gorgeous.” he stayed silent and glanced away. How could you love this? His mangled, horrific face that looked more like a monster’s than his own. He couldn’t understand but maybe he didn’t need to. You were still here. You hadn’t run. You hadn’t screamed or even moved away from him. So he leaned forward and hugged you, burying his face under your chin. You smiled and set the mask on the bed, holding his head there. He made a little sound and kissed your collarbone. You kissed the top of his head in return and he just rested there. Somehow, you didn’t find him scary. You’d fallen in love with him long before he had shown you his face. And he had trusted you enough to show that to you. That in itself meant so much. From under your chin you heard a small “I love you…”. With a smile you spoke back “You too. Always .” he stayed silent and closed his eyes.

I’ve been gathering roses
Without gloves again,
The scent, the petals
Hopelessly attract me.

I follow without question,
The thorns vicious in
My skin and yet I cannot
Stop, they call to me.

Never knowing when
Far is too far, when close
Will leave me broken.

I’ve always found myself

Addicted to beautiful things.

The sky at 8:52 on a June night,
Laughter on a snowy day,
Eyes that light up when they see me.

I’m never aware of the risk,
Of the perilous proximity
To despair until I find myself
Bandaging my hands again.

#C4 The God Key Snippet

See The God Key tag here.


“Why didn’t it work?” Archangel asked quietly. He could feel his control teetering, like a wine glass wobbling on the moment before it fell and shattered everywhere. Red wine, everywhere, impossible to scrub out of the perfect white tablecloth and his parents livid at the scene of it all.

Focus.

He rounded on Isaac. “Why didn’t it work?”

“You said her mind might be dreamy – difficult for you to tap into.” Isaac’s jaw clenched. “It’s not my fault.”

There had to be some way to get in her head, there absolutely had to be. She couldn’t be immune to him completely. Even Isaac wasn’t immune to him, and he was maintaining an impressive level of silence for someone who wasn’t actually dead. Blocked off. Distorted.  That wasn’t Isaac’s power, even. Archangel’s eyes narrowed. He could get flashes of past days, painful memories, but nothing now. He couldn’t snatch control Isaac’s mind and bend him to his will like a boy made of clay. Nothing since the day he ‘died’.

“How did you turn your thoughts off?” he asked softly. His mind ran over mad ideas, of flawless androids and zombies born again to life. “A pulse point can be faked, blood can be faked, but your thoughts…”

Isaac tensed.

“Well, she was obviously on  his side – they seemed good friends,” Spring bit out. “Morphina might have done something, if you can’t get in either of their heads.”

Archangel played the scene over and over in his head like the nauseous wheeling of a spinning fair-ground ride, always returning to the same flashes of sickening colour.

“Isaac. Tell me how you did it.” The urge to pounce on his head swelled, but he’d promised and he didn’t want to fail in front of Sanna and Spring. “This is all to do with you – Morphina she – she’ll kill them -” He struggled to organise his thoughts.

“She what?” The colour drained from Spring’s face. “She’ll kill what? What? No! No, she can’t. You spoke to her? What exactly did she say? I thought it didn’t work, that she didn’t come here!”

Archangel kept his gaze locked on Isaac. A clammy unease swept at him, and his headache throbbed behind his temples. Burned in his eyes. Tugged at every inch of him.  

“Archangel!” Spring snapped and surged forwards, seizing his wrist and giving him an impatient shake. “What did she say?”

He truly must have looked pathetic because something in Isaac’s expression gave a little.
“Is this a discussion you want to be having with me publically?”

“He has nothing to hide from us,” Spring snapped. “One of you just spit it out. Is my sister in danger? How much time do we have?”

Her thoughts prickled at him again, her emotions an agitated spew that made Archangel’s skin crawl with the sheer force of it. His blood began to boil.

Sanna crossed the room, the only one of their seeming untouched by sleep-deprivation or injury, and brushed a hand over his temple. The headache eased. He could think; at least for the few moments where her fingers soothed the pain away. His shoulders sagged.  

Isaac folded his arms across his chest and god, Archangel knew that he wasn’t helpless but his hoodie swamped him and he was so pale that he looked like the most vulnerable creature on earth all hunched up protectively around himself like that.

“You haven’t figured it out?” Isaac’s lips twisted. “You really must be tired.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you,” Isaac said. “She deals in dreams, in nightmares. She makes nightmares come to life, that’s literally what she does. What’s your biggest fear, Gabriel?”

Losing you. Again.

Powerlessness.

Not being able to save anyone, no matter how hard I try.

“I magnify you, when you touch me,” Isaac said. “Your power is in your mind. So is hers. You may be more powerful than her when you have me, but that doesn’t mean she can’t use your powers against you when you’re terrified. The greater your fear, the stronger she gets, right?”

“And I feared failure,” Archangel said. More to the point, he’d feared Isaac’s death so long ago. “She was there.  On campus.” His ears buzzed and the rest of the room felt like it had ceased to exist, as he stared at Isaac.

Why now? Why here? What had happened six months ago that could possibly start this? Make her attack now if for years she’d been silent, providing she’d truly been there so long ago?

Six months ago – Morphina learned that Gabriel knew Isaac Morton was still alive.

Archangel’s insides curdled.

“You’re on her side.” Was that why it didn’t work? Isaac sabotaging him all along, muffling his powers perhaps, sedating them. “She’s killing us, and you’re on her side. Do you really hate me that much?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m not on her side. Or maybe I am. Brain like yours and a power like hers you could probably dream that in to reality.” Isaac glared at him. “She wanted me in exchange for her hostages, right? Second she said that, you panicked, and whoops there’s goes our plan because that’s your nightmares come to life right there.” Isaac shook his head, laughed that awful laugh again. “Great going after lecturing us about controlling our emotions. Really, Gabe. I’m impressed.”

“You’re a spiteful little prick these days, aren’t you?”

Focus.

He couldn’t use his powers on himself, his control over his thoughts was as mediocre as everyone else’s if not even less so with the amount of traffic wandering around his synapses and Isaac bloody well knew it.   He couldn’t go near Morphina without being terrified. It was a sickening thought – a punch in the throat. And he couldn’t lose Isaac again, he simply couldn’t stomach it. Not again. And there was Isaac, knowing that, and sneering anyway.

Focus.

“I thought you wanted me to be more like you?” Isaac returned sweetly.

Archangel snarled, wordlessly, and lost it.

Isaac staggered, clutching  his head. Turned wild eyes on Archangel and pounced, this time making a beeline for skin contact. Vicious and angry and  oh Isaac liked to pretend that he was such a goddamn pacifist didn’t he, but here now-Archangel caught his wrists by the sleeves, grappling.

“Stop it!” Sanna snapped. “Both of you stop it!”

Spring’s vines wrapped around them and hurled them bodily apart, panting. It was enough. Both of their abilities cut and left a ringing silence.

“You’re acting like bickering children,” Sanna said with a cold disgust. “It’s not about whose fault this is or isn’t, or what did or didn’t happen that you’re not telling us about. We have to work together. Jesus, Archangel.”

This isn’t like you.

The shame crept over him, as cold and slimy as a raw egg cracked on the back of his neck beneath their stares. He was supposed to be their leader, and here he was tousling like a schoolyard boy. He straightened just in time to catch the tail end of Isaac vanishing out of the door.

He took a few steps after him.

Spring’s vine caught around his torso and he rounded on her next, eyes ablaze. She stared him down with a silent don’t you dare. “Tell me about the hostages.”

“Spring.” Sanna touched her wrist again, exhaling a breath. “You too. We have to calm down, none of us have slept for days. We can’t afford to start fighting among ourselves it’s probably exactly what she wants.” She looked over at Archangel next. “Your Magnifier can stew for a bit, it’s not like he can leave.”

“He’s not my Magnifier-“ His chest stung and his temper flared again.

“-Don’t start,” she warned.

He fell silent and grit his teeth. “Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face and released a breath too, made a show of letting the tension ease out of his posture. “Fuck, sorry.”

The silence stretched for a few beats, nothing like the companionable thing it used to be.

“I’m going to make us some more coffee,” Spring said cheerfully.

They all groaned.

If you're a fan of any of these, talk to me

(I’m 14 btw - anyone near my age range)


BOOKS:

The Raven Cycle
Victoria Schwab (any of her YA and NA books)
We Are The Ants
I’ll Give You The Sun
Shadowhunter Chronicles
The Lunar Chronicles, and Heartless
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Carry On
Daughter of Smoke and Bone
You, and Hidden Bodies
The Name of the Wind
Six of Crows


SHOWS:

Shadowhunters
Skins


+ Dan and Phil
Pink Floyd
Savannah Brown
Booktube

30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 17

Day 17: Spooning

Summary: The heating in 221B breaks down on one of the coldest nights in London
Author: Maddy (@laterthantherabbit​)
Words: 760
Characters/Relationships: Sherlock x reader, John Watson (mentioned)
Warnings: None

Author’s Notes: I’m sorry today’s second challenge fic took so long to get out. I came home today from uni and we did family stuff most the day. I managed to quickly write the 16th one in between things but I only got the chance to write this one now. This turned out to be more cuddling than spooning but it is in there, if only briefly. Thanks for waiting, I really appreciate it guys!!

—————————————————————-

You had been lying in your bed in bed, teeth chattering and toes blue for nearly two hours now, yet sleep had managed to evade your for every second of it. After a freak blackout that evening, which had still yet to be fixed, 221B had been plunged into the dark and cold as the heating and lights failed to work. You and John had bundles yourselves up in the thickest and warmest blankets you could find, though they hardly managed to warm you much. You had also found some candles and torches in the flat, which provided some light yet they were so scarce that there was hardly any light for an hour before the darkness cloaked the flat once more. After that, you and John had called it a night and tried to sleep until morning whereas Sherlock preferred to stay up and do some experiment on condensation now that you and John couldn’t force him to keep the flat at a reasonable temperature. You had just shaken your head and given him your blanket before going into Sherlock’s room to bundle under the duvet and multiple blankets there, warning Sherlock to not stay up in the cold by himself lest he freeze to death.

That had been now two hours and twelve minutes ago. You had begun to worry when Sherlock had not joined you in the little warmth under the covers and had rather stayed in the living room with the windows, there the cold was most biting. You called out slightly, because he must hear your soft voice in the silence of the flat. You received no answer in reply. You couldn’t leave him there all by himself, you reasoned in your mind. He’ll freeze. You huffed out a frosty breath and left the cocoon you had created, padding softly into the darkened living room to see no one there.

“Sherlock?” You listened carefully but there was barely a breath of sound in the room. Barely but not quite absent. You had moved around to see the room from another angle which was how you had found Sherlock, curled in his chair with the blanket hardly covering his shoulders and his hands and feet stiff as ice. “Sherlock!”

“Y-Y/N? Y-you sh-should b-be back i-in bed.”

“You sh-should too! Sherlock this is madness why didn’t you come into bed where it’s warmer?”

“E-experiment.” He moved his head to gesture to the windows behind him where there was indeed, some sort of process only he could understand in progress.

“That’ll have to wait, come on now. Into bed with you.” You had expected some sort of argument back so when he nodded and stood shakily, ready to follow into his room, your worry only grew. You grasped his hand, which was as cold as it was stiff, and lead him into the bedroom. He settled himself in the bed and you followed soon after, covering yourself and him with the thick duvet and blankets. The heat you had accumulated beforehand had dissipated when you had retrieved Sherlock so the coolness of the sheets did little to reassure you of your ability to warm Sherlock up. You placed your arm around his middle and coaxed him closer to you so that you were chest to back with him. He took sometime to realise your intentions and twisted around so that you were face to face. He buried his nose into your collarbone and curled his arms into the space between your chests, his legs became entwined with yours and his feet lay under your own. You had flinched as his icy skin and limbs came into contact with yours yet you never moved away. The chattering of his teeth which had been faint before became thunderous in the close space and his body, which you had only now noticed had been vibrating constantly, jolted with violent whole-body shivers from time to time. You rubbed your hands up and down his back to warm it up some and you noticed that, gradually, his arctic breath became warmer, his shivering less vicious and his skin less ice-like.

“You daft bastard. What would you have done if not for me? Freeze in your own living room probably.” You mumbled affectionately into his hair as he groaned in response, too far gone into a fitful half-sleep to properly reply. You sighed and relished in the increasing warmth under the covers now that there were two people providing heat, nuzzling your cool nose into the ebony curls under your chin as you drifted into sleep.

The chronicles of the winter || Part VI

Part II  || Part III || Part IV || Part V
continuation of imagine

Summary: Bucky and Steve fight together against Hydra’s agents, but unfortunately not everything is going right…

Word Count: 1379

Warnings:none

“Behind you! Bucky!” Steve yelled.

Bucky saw them then. Silent as beetles, two men scuttled toward him.
More followed, slipping from behind the trees. Under cover of the snow and fog, the pack had stalked in, unseen, converging from three directions. They were from Hydra. They carried knives, chains and guns.

They’d sent the girl as a honey pot to hold Steve and Bucky in place while the gang closed in. She’d smiled at them while she was planning to watch them die.

“More of them down that way” Steve dropped out of the fog, into his usual place, taking the left. They were two against that many…

Bucky quickly reached to his pocket, pulling out a little knife. He picked a target - one of men in front, where his friends would see him die - and threw his weapon. The man collapsed with a sucking, bubbling neck wound. The familiar stink of death rose in the alley. Bucky pulled his second knife.
The thugs hesitated, sending glances back and forth, fingering blade and cudgel. Attack or retreat. It could go either way.
If this lasts long, they’ll get killed.

“Mine on the right” Bucky threw and his blade hit badly and glanced off a collar bone of another enemy soldier. One man down. One wounded. “Waste of a knife, damn” Bucky growled in a low voice, looking briefly at Steve.

Steve nodded and ran straight at another Hydra’s soldier, after a second they both were tussling on the snow. Rogers straddled man, pinning him down as his fists were aiming blows in man’s face. He stopped only, when he felt a strong thwack in the back of his head.

Bucky’s last knife was in his boot. Not for throwing. This one was for killing up close.
He forced his mind to the pattern the attackers wove, trying to spot the leader. Kill the leader and the others might scatter. And in a flash he realized. SHE WAS A LEADER OF THE PACK.

There was no way to get the woman. She stayed in their shadow, using Hydra’s soldiers as a shield.
Then he didn’t think about her at all. Chain whistled past him. Bucky turned around and grabbed it and jerked the man off balance and drove his knife through a gap in the leather waistcoat, up under the breastbone, to the heart.

For an instant Bucky stood locked, face to face, with the man he’d just killed - a thickset red-head with pale skin and vicious, gleeful, mad blue eyes. Outrage and disbelief pulsed out at him and drained away. Man’s eyes went blank.
Then the dead bastard thrashed, rolled with the knife, and took it down with him as he fell.
There was no time to get it back. A crowbar cracked down on his shoulder with a bright, sour, copper pain. Bucky fell, dodged a boot, and rolled away as Steve took down his attacker.

The woman screamed.
“Take ‘em alive! THEY want them alive! Move your fucking fat asses, suckers!”

Up. He had to get up.
Bucky got back on his feet, shaking his head, trying to see through a black haze. The girl was standing between two men, aiming her gun in them.
The Soldier staggered through madness and confusion, fog and pain. Steve was swearing a blue streak.

Suddenly more agents appeared from different sides.

“FUCK” Bucky cursed aloud, looking at Steve. “There’s too many of them! Call for a support, Steve.”
“I did” Rogers quickly looked around. He ran to the nearest bench and ripped off its back. He was going to use it to the defence.

Redhead woman was observing all that scene with a restlessness. She briefly looked at her watch.
10:12 PM.
She was belated and she knew she’s gonna be punished by her leaders. If they ordered her to be back in base at 10:10 PM, she was just obligated to do so, no matter with costs.
She threw a cold glance at the man on her left.
“Agent 3, we can’t allow it to lasts. Use the Alsatian.”
Man nodded slightly and whistled loudly.

Bucky and Steve were fighting still, when they heard a mighty roar nearby.
Agents, which were attacking them, moved away apace.
Bucky helped Steve to rise up from the ground. He suddenly noticed, that Steve’s face was changing. His friend paled, looking above Bucky’s shoulder with a horror on his face.

Bucky turned his head back gradually.
Bucky instinctively took a step back, allignig with Steve.

In front of them, few meters away, was standing something he saw for the first time in his life.

From the shadows came a huge wolf or something similar, much more bigger than a normal wolf, yet he was no an ordinary predator. He moved to block them, staring with almost human eyes at them. The wolf had a huge scar across a right side of his face, the green eyes were glowing in a dim light of lanterns in the park. The black-grey fur was ruffled by each wind blow. The only sound was his breathing, his flaring nostrils as he took in Bucky’s scent. He curled up his gums to reveal yellow stained teeth and then let out a low rumbling growl.

Bucky slowly turned his head to face Steve.
“What now, Mr Know-It-All?” Bucky asked quietly.
Steve started to move backward as slowly as he could, still with hia eyes on the animal.
“Slowly, Buck. Don’t make any chaotic movements…”
So Bucky did as Steve said. It was until the Soldier stepped on the branch, which cracked under pressure of his boots.

But animal didn’t attack. The wolf slowly stepped back, disappearing in the shadow.

Redhead’s lips curled up into a wry smile when agents attacked Rogers and Barnes once again.
The two men seemed to be tired of the fight and she knew it won’t be long.

Bucky managed to take down 3 of the agents rather easily, Steve with all his strength was fighting against the biggest of the men.

Bucky wanted to help his friend, so he walked at the attacker, but suddenly he heard something behind.

Through the darkness came the glow of two green eyes, like sallow lamplight eight feet off the ground. They moved with a slight sway, as if the unseen body prowled like a big cat. But it definelty wasn’t a cat.
Bucky stopped. The eyes did not, with rapid acceleration and a more bounding motion they came right for him. In less than two seconds he was on his back gasping for air.
The first strike was with a poisoned claw to slow the reaction time of the victim, after that it was play time.
The monster sank his teeth into Bucky’s neck, not too deep, but deep enough to weaken brunette’s strengths with a blood loss.
Bucky let out a vicious scream, with his metal hand he grasped the throat of the huge animal and squeezed it as hard as he only could. With all his strength he pushed animal back, turning quickly at his knees. Man crawled aside, pressing his wound on neck with his hand.
He could easily heard that wolf was preparing himself to the second attack, but suddenly another sound appeared. A chopper. That probably was a reason he hasn’t been attacked again.

Bucky lifted his head, seeing how Steve has been pinned down to the ground by two agents, one of them used an inhibitor to make sure Steve won’t fight again.
The electricity ran quickly throughout whole Rogers’ body, causing a loud yell of pain.

Bucky yelled too, from anger and helplessness.
Now, when everything seemed to be coming back to normal, Hydra stepped into their lives again. In the most cruel way.

Bucky felt, how heavy his eyelids were becoming with every second. He laid himself back on the snow, on his back, looking at the dark night sky.
With a corner of his eye he noticed a black military chopper landed on the small meadow behind the trees.
The last thing he saw was the redhead woman, she crouched next to him.
“You see, Barnes, Hydra always receives everything she wants” her voice began to fade out, blurring to nothingness as all around him.

Author: Beast

     FISTS CLENCHED, and breath ragged, the elf burst through the door of the commander’s office with a loud, obnoxious BANG. her bare feet skidded to an abrupt and graceless halt in the centre of the room, arms outstretched at her sides, tired blue eyes wide and frightened.

      commander-! thick lips spat BLOOD as she spoke in sharp, desperate tones, a vicious tear in her skin colouring her mouth a deep scarlet. please, ser– you have to do something!

greeting starter || @leoaegis

I am made of wild things.

We were all born of
monsters, it is how we
hold those with skin
less apt to take in this
world gracefully that
give us the moniker
of human.

With bodies like debris,
those crash-landings
we call souls make for
easy targets; to make
scraps of someone’s
being is such a simple
endeavor.

I am made of vicious skin.

These hands hold no
promises, but one knows
the weight of itself once
it is forced to cradle all
it has ever been within
its palms.

We are more careful,
now, after having been
seduced into breaking
apart, our hands more
gentle. We learn how to
hold others best by
remembering the ways
in which we let
ourselves fall.

We are made from selfish stuff.

—  “it only occurred to us when the fire struck our homes how those living on the sun must feel every single day“ ~ Emma Bleker

So all I want to do is not really eat but then I don’t want to get ill and in that mindset again. So I have been forcing myself to eat. but put on far to much weight and it is such a vicious circle. I don’t want to eat as fat, but force myself to eat so do not get ill, but that results in me being fat, which means I don’t want to eat. hhhmmmmm

youtube

Pulling Teeth’s last show.
:’(

Heretic
Pulling Teeth

Song | Heretic
Band | Pulling Teeth
Album | Vicious Skin

You were created by man, but you’ve taken on a life of your own, egomaniacal, selfish fuck, neglecting your responsibilities. Millions rely on you, too weak to stand on their own. But you’re so caught up in the glitz en glam, you forgot what you were created for. And I wish that I could open all their eyes make them see you’re not worth dying for. Make them see that there’s so much more. I defy you, you’ll never have control. I deny you and your soul-controlling role. And I’ll breathe every breath as a free man and I’ll curse your fucking name as often as I can.