 |
The man that had sworn to never fall, the one who fought leagues upon leagues and emerged victorious finally kneeled in front of such a small triumph. He had loved and was loved in return.
(Source: steampunkgasoline)
|
 |
|
Mumford and Sons | I Gave You All
(Source: dontfeedthegoths)
Into his bed, she crawled so quietly, so carefully.
This was a ritual, her midnight confession.
Her pale hand slid down his arm, stirring him.
Electric blue eyes greeted her, disoriented, dimmed.
Trapped between the realm of dreams and the waking world.
Clay in her hands.
Amycus. His name slid off her tongue so sweetly.
Such terrible things dripped from her blood red lips.
Fantasies of murder, torture,
Falling into his defenseless ears.
1974
It had been months since she’d seen him. Six months with only scattered lines of prose and promises to stitch her sanity into her soul. It was a delicate thread that would sew her together; she was lined with the secrets they shared, embroidered with his vow of protection.
Without her closest confidante, her silent protector to wrap steal her away to the labyrinth of their memories, she had been so lost. The hallowed halls of the manor she called a prison were silent of their footsteps, their laughter did not ring through the halls. And so she unfurled from her cocoon, wings opening to embrace such darkness. Her newborn flight would be into the night.
It was a new smile that had graced her lips when the owl dropped the invitation. That evening she awaited her escort, hands wrapped around a fragile glass to keep her excitement from showing. Whispers and compliments she had never received in such tones. Dance with me, they plead, but she did not yet know how.
She turned from them as she saw him there. Her Amycus, looking the part of the man he had so long played. Her heart beat a rhythm she did not understand. The smile she set upon him was dazzling. Her lips trembled with a shyness she had never before encountered.
He would teach her to dance.
- For cleareyesfullheartscantlosee
- Rebel Rebel - David Bowie
- Horses Can’t Throw Up - Gram Rabbit
- Rollin’ Danny - The Fall
- I Fought the Law - The Clash
- John Hardy - The Gun Club
This mix turned out to be way more Neal than White Collar in general.
It was nights like these when he’d remember how innocent she used to be, shied smile and blushed cheeks as she whispered to him under the light of the stars she could no longer see. Nights like these when he’d see past the dark and the twisted smirk that could not and would not push past the corners of her mouth. Her cheeks would not dimple anymore.
She’d go to him, raunchy, despicable, her delicious aroma and even more captivating steps drawing him into a darkened world he never believed her to have. Her legs would wrap around him, her essence swallowing him whole, her whispers stirring and riveting, awakening a monster only she could rise from it’s slumber.
She was sexy, powerful, needy, desperate. She was his but she was no longer she.
Only when he rested his gaze on her empty eyes could he slowly feel the tips of his fingers turn to stone.
But he would turn to dust for his Medusa.
