Mouthwashing Fictive - Blog Posts

Okay since twitter just hates me and wants me to explode, I'll post these here also, crossover...!?!?!? woah! anya and kirishima!??!? crazy...

(Art was made by me, a Kiri fictive who's good friends with Anya in headspace...)

Poorly edited I'm funny please laugh

I HOPE THIS HURTS.

[Drawn by an Anya fictive ^_^]

it’s my account and i can do what i want with it. TW.

the taste of copper in my own mouth is overwhelming.

what i wouldn’t give to live normally. live without the consistent craving of the intimacy and abuse cocktail.

i want to be hurt just as i want to be loved.

the difference is, i deserve to be hurt.

and it pains me, knowing that i could just as easily be thrown away. i’m nothing special. i know that. we can pretend that i am all we want, but i know.

i know that, if i were being auctioned off, no one would try. “next up, it’s captain grant curly! starting of at a hundred, anyone?….anyone?….”

i know. i know i’m damaged beyond repair, i know i’m worthless. everything is so heavy right now, and that’s quite alright. i was made to carry burdens. the weight of holding everyone’s secrets weigh me down, and as i fall behind, the growing ache in my chest throbs.

what i wouldn’t give to lay my head down in your lap, let your fingers run through my hair, and let the world go quiet. even then, i wouldn’t be worth a penny. but maybe, just maybe, i would bring you the barest hint of happiness.

i need to clean my room. i need to pack my bag. i need to do my laundry. i’ve been living here for almost two werks, and i barely packed enough clothes to last me three days.

what i really need to do is shut up. because no one gives a damn. i keep telling myself, “get it together, grant.” and then i continue messing things up. i need to be guided.

i need to eat. i can’t remember the last time i ate.

the sleeves of my hoodie are tear-stained. i’m shaking like a leaf. i’m a grown man, dammit. it has been 2 minutes. and yet…

infatuation runs through my veins, seeps from my pores, coats my skin and nails. and even if you aren’t the least bit as infatuated with me, as i am with you, well…isn’t that part of the fun?

nothing but a stupid, pathetic dog, who whines when they get kicked, then loyally wait at the door for the next.

good god, how terrible of a person must i be?

how twisted, how sick, how depraved and pathetic must i be to be chasing, begging, dare i say even lusting after someone who’s entire line of communication, who’s entire relationship, stems from something specifically platonic.

he’s right. as unfortunate as it may be, he’s right. i’m nothing, nothing if not a loyal mutt. i bite any other hand that dares feed me, save for my master. the kind of mutt who you pick off the street, so loyal that you could push it down the stairs and it would simply trot back up and sit in front of you, protective and possessive.

it’s almost amusing, this illusion of choice i had. you’ve always been a part of my life. we’ve been friends forever. it would be impossible, or near impossible, to have not taken you up on your offer.

where is the line drawn, between my source memories/relations and yours.

what i wouldn’t give for you to feel the same deep-rooted infatuation, the same fuzzy, cloudy feelings, the same soft, gentle warmth.

don’t you know that I’M the only one who can satisfy you in this way? the only one who could quench that deep, growing need to take control? the only one you let close, the only one you let lie in your bed at night?

i’m the only one.

won’t you love me in the most vile way possible? . . . won’t you hurt me in the most saccharine way possible?

my head feels like it’s been filled with cotton, and my vision is swimming in the most subtle way. i feel floaty and gentle and pliable and fragile. it’s quite an odd feeling.

i’m a sick, sick man, aren’t i.

sick for wanting the duality of life itself, sick for wanting you. sick for wanting you at your worst, the screaming and manipulation and threat. sick for wanting you at your best, even if your best is feral and violent and obsessive.

i will bow before your alter, for forever, if it means i get to be near you for forever.

i want him at the red crescent-moon-shaped indents that bubble up blood as i beg and plead and cry, and i want him at the soft, soothing, big brown eyes as we both gently whisper murmurings of forgiveness.

i am but a sick man.

he may be this..this manipulative, god-status-having figure. but i am nothing if not a willing devotee, offering up my heart, body, mind and soul.

a sorrowful source memory…? [tw]

i distinctly remember the aftermath of a particularly rough argument.

he accused me of never caring, of planning to leave. the jimmy i knew was quick to emotion, in every sense of the word: he was quick to fall in love as he was quick to anger. as this argument progressed, our voices were raised higher and higher. it got to the point where my own throat was sore, just from trying to be heard over his frantic yelling. once the end of the argument came about, we both took off to different rooms of the apartment we were sharing at the time. the apartment wasn’t anything too special, just somewhere we could crash when we weren’t doing shipments. he ended up in his (our shared) bedroom, and i ended up pacing the kitchen. about an hour later, he sulked out from the bedroom, and came to me in the kitchen. about 30 minutes into the wait, i decided that food could be a good peace offering, so i was cooking. nothing too extreme, just eggs, as we didn’t have much else in the apartment. i could hear him creep up behind me, wrapping his arms around my middle and laying his forehead on the back of my shoulder.

it was those tender moments that reminded me why i stuck around, why i adore/d him, why i was the sole devotee.

「★」 TO THE MOON, AND NEVER BACK . . .

all likes and followings will come from @vulpes-ventricle

⟢ hello and welcome to my “secret” space .ᐟ

you can call me curly! this is my source memory-based, yearning-based account.

i want to say that everything talked about on this blog is SAFE, SANE, and CONSENSUAL. nothing i’ve done in the past, and nothing i’ve written about, was outside of my own volition.

if you are uncomfortable with any of the following . . . ⇒ Curly x Jimmy ⇒ “doomed”, or toxic relationships ⇒ co-dependency ⇒ alters/headmates who AREN’T source separated ⇒ NSFW concepts ⇒ obsession-themed romance ⇒ manipulation . . . then you probably won’t enjoy this blog.

⟢ ABOUT ME .ᐟ

Captain Grant Curly 𓏵 ageless (appears 30s) 𓏵 he/him/his 𓏵 cisgender male 𓏵 bisexual

⟢ TAGS .ᐟ

⭐️// depraved mind ⤷ “trigger warning” posts ⭐️// lovesick letters ⤷ romantic / obsession themed ⭐️// cherry rose tinted ⤷ directed posts ⭐️// vulpes_ventricle ⤷ system-based ⭐️// the moon is quiet ⤷ source memories ⭐️// captain approves ⤷ reblogs ⭐️// captain is speaking ⤷ any and all original posts