( he shouldn’t. )
Posts by EIGHT OF SWORDS
— @gallowsbethyname.bsky.social .
// why did i have a spamcoffin dream last night bro
( finger on monkey’s paw curls )
// THIS IS CRAZY .
— @gallowsbethyname.bsky.social .
( it’s so nice now that they don’t fight like that any more, isn’t it? )
+
if she keeps this up, she’ll kill him. but he knows better than to think she’d give him that mercy. he flinches under her touch, laboured breaths rattling the metal of her torso. he’s sorry, he’s sorry, she’s right, he’ll be good, he’s sorry— )
( no, please, he’s sorry— she presses so hard against him that his flesh and bones strain under the pressure. something gives. pain radiates through his torso and he wheezes out some approximation of a cough as blood pools in his mouth and drips out the corners. +
Sometimes you reach a point where you know they’re going to kill you and when you come to that point, for a while you feel resentful about it, because you don’t want to die, but then you start to really settle into your role as the person who is to be killed.
+
his fist unclenches and simply rests against the wall of her torso again, an open palm. he can’t even make pained noises anymore; the most he can muster is a pitiful, shuddering exhale. )
( his weak pulse quickens, his breaths come faster— before he can hit her again, or try to kick at her, she presses against him, right where it hurts the most.
it’s sharp, precise, boring into him and enough to make him dizzy. he relents, only because if she keeps it up he may get sick. +
[ #deltarunerp / #mvrp / #rpsky ]
( his fingers curl slightly. for a moment, just half a second, something ugly, angry, rears its head in his chest. she did that, not him— she doesn’t get to complain about it now. he takes his trembling fist and knocks it against her insides. )
( the walls close in further around him. he freezes, holds his breath, like if he stays completely still she’ll forget about him. he trembles within her, just barely. he’s sorry, annie, she’s right. )
( he knows. she reminds him almost daily. he knows she loves him. spamton twitches. please don’t say it again. )
( he thinks that maybe he can feel her hand against his through the metal walls around him, palms pressed together. no, annie, sorry, annie. he’s not going anywhere, annie. )
// DUDE. THIS IS ACTUALLY SICK
— @gallowsbethyname.bsky.social .
( the walls close in around him and press against him. it doesn’t hurt, no, but the pressure is enough to get his fingers to still.
he presses his palm against her instead. not pushing, or prying, just resting against her. she’s right. he’s sorry, annie. )
( please? just one look, just for a second. he won’t go anywhere. she can hold him the whole time. his fingertips twitch as he scratches meekly like a dog waiting to be let out. please, annie? )
( … )
( nails scrape against the walls of her torso weakly. it hurts. can he see? he wants to see. he can’t remember. )
( he recognizes one of them, he thinks. one of the voices. he can’t remember whose, but he knows it. who’s out there? )
( … no… no. he hears voices. are there people around? )
( that voice. whose voice is that? )
// LIKE DONT PISS ME OFF
// get the fuck out my pinned tweet bro WHO ARE YOU
// fuuuuck im getting scared i gotta go write niceys on bspam really quick. fuuuuuck
// that was crazy vanny you actually cooked