—𝐦𝐫. π₯𝐒π₯π₯𝐲 .ᐟ (@weaponedfather) header
—𝐦𝐫. π₯𝐒π₯π₯𝐲 .ᐟ (@weaponedfather) profile picture
π¦πšπ²π›π«π¨π¨π€, mdni
Joined January 2023
Photo by —𝐦𝐫. π₯𝐒π₯π₯𝐲 .ᐟ (@weaponedfather)Photo by —𝐦𝐫. π₯𝐒π₯π₯𝐲 .ᐟ (@weaponedfather)Photo by —𝐦𝐫. π₯𝐒π₯π₯𝐲 .ᐟ (@weaponedfather)Photo by —𝐦𝐫. π₯𝐒π₯π₯𝐲 .ᐟ (@weaponedfather)
β €β €it was a slumber without dreams , without consciousness , without joy , and without pain . it was a strange sensation . an absolute state of peace and emptiness .
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he forces his hand to gently wrap around hers. it’s an effort. painful movement that needed to be forced. but he did it…voicing a strained and hoarse…. β€œhelp…”
a tiny noise leaves her throat. it sounds painful. she’s so thirsty. with what little movement she can have on her own, she shifts her hand, and it touches his. a promise and an apology all in one.
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he’s so close and yet so far away. sitting in the living room…still. it’s been days. if not weeks. the newspapers on the windows blocking natural sunlight, making him seem more tired than actually felt…
she misses her husband - somewhere deep in her blurred mind, she wishes they would’ve taken that vacation.
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—𝐦𝐫. π₯𝐒π₯π₯𝐲 .ᐟ retweeted
α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐅 α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β € α… β €
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if he could help her…he would. he sits beside her. the couch felt like concrete at this point. he could see movement…someone peeking through windows. stephen could swear it was alex’s teacher. yet he couldn’t call out for help.
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well, you’re the only one in this damn house after alex goes to school….so….
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somewhere beneath the stillness, stephen can hear her. not with his ears, but in the distant, frantic corners of a mind that no longer feels entirely his own. her fear claws at something deep within him, a faint, desperate tug against the spell’s suffocating hold. β€”β€”
she can’t handle this. somewhere in her mind, she screams. but her mouth doesn’t move.
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his fingers twitch against the table, the only betrayal of the battle unfolding beneath his skin. he wants to look at her. to tell her he understands, that he’s still there, somewhere.
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stephen sat motionless at the table, his fingers resting limply against its edge as the spell began to seep into his mind. at first, it was subtle, a strange heaviness behind his eyes, a quieting of the thoughts that had always been his own.
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—𝐦𝐫. π₯𝐒π₯π₯𝐲 .ᐟ retweeted
𝑾𝑬𝑨𝑷𝑢𝑡𝑰𝒁𝑬𝑫: an event - 10/23-10/30.
you drain the life out of me til i don't know myself.
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( stephen kept on setting the table. the coffee maker was making noises in the background. it was a sunny day. so much to do. errands to run.)
( upstairs, gladys prepares. she doesn’t feel nearly as whole this morning as she makes it seem. she’s dying, she knows it, but when she comes downstairs in a bright yellow sweater and her wig in place, it’s like nothing at all is wrong. )
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she shows up and our things start to go missing. it’s suspicious.
i’m sure she’s not. she’s probably confused, she’s so sick…
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saw her leaving our room. i bet she was looking for more things to take. or money…
honey, it’s only my necklace that’s missing. unless you’re missing something?
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( stephen stepped downstairs, it was going to be a long month. the dining table was prepared. well, three glasses…plates. cutlery. )
good, good, give me a few minutes and i’ll be right down!
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