princetorn

[princetorn]

the last supper, jesus christ superstar / hope to die, orville peck / they’ll clap when you’re gone, chelsea wolfe / adam’s song, blink-182

#✮ inspiration — you’re gonna run your body right into the ground

[princetorn]

hey i know i asked for constructive criticism but what i actually wanted was for you to tell me i'm extremely talented. and also pretty. sorry if that was unclear

#damn it royce! #✮ musing — can’t you see this face on a baseball card?

[princetorn]

#✮ royce × miriam — so many ways to stay hungry baby / so many ways to go fast #cw: nsft

[princetorn]

“Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling”

—Oscar Wilde

#✮ royce × persephone — you look beyond the veil of form and separation

[princetorn]

#✮ royce × miriam — so many ways to stay hungry baby / so many ways to go fast

[princetorn]

Maxton Hall Season 1, Episode 3

#✮ royce × persephone — you look beyond the veil of form and separation #cw: gif

[princetorn]

Fuck. I can't do anything right. *pulls my shirt up slightly and you can see a little bit of my abs*

#✮ musing — can’t you see this face on a baseball card?

[princetorn]

gas stations are like land lighthouses

#✮ musing — can’t you see this face on a baseball card?

[princetorn]

#it's the effortless cool #the physique #the pushed back hair #the swimming trunks #it he it him #✮ inspiration — you’re gonna run your body right into the ground #cw: gif

[princetorn]

In life, it had taken both planning and practice to become a master of evasion.  In death, it was effortless.  There was no need to herald his dead-of-night arrival by bouncing pebbles against Persephone’s bedroom window.  No requirement to memorise a mental map of exposed floorboards, to know which would creak protest beneath his weight and which would bear him in silence.  There was never any cause to retreat, never was he ushered out of the front door and into the grey light of dawn.  Royce haunted Persephone’s room in perpetuity – he haunted her.  Even when he could not be seen by her all-seeing eyes, he lingered in the inky pools of shadow beneath her bed, or hung weightless among the dresses and coats in her closet.

Persephone saw him now.  Cold as a morgue, manifesting as he was before the mortician set upon him with silver staples and wax and wire stitches.  Despite the chill of his touch, she permitted her clothes to be peeled away, allowed him to revere flesh still living.  How alive and wriggling she was, with blooms of colour in her cheeks, the rosy flush that spilled and spread across her chest, the pink tips of her breasts tightening into buds.  Bitten lips spoke in sweet murmurings, gentle instructions punctuated by darling little pleases and thank yous.  Royce moved at her command, entrusted with the power of her pleasure.  Between soft thighs, his intact hand had come to roost, flesh-clad fingers curling, sliding in and out, aware of the wet, honey-drip of her arousal. 

Skeletal fingers raked through her dark hair, then moved to palm the heavy fullness of her breasts, but she did not recoil.  If anything, Persephone turned towards his touch as a daisy twisted on its delicate stem, determined to always face the sun.  Royce supposed he could give her what she needed, have her shiver and shatter against his palm – but he had another end in mind.  He withdrew, the absence of his fingers compensated for by a slow shower of kisses.  He started with her collarbones before sinking to her sternum, the pillow-soft of her belly, then lower still.  Beneath his lips, basking in ruinous attention, she trembled, anticipation stringing itself through them both as his dead, hungry mouth came to hover between her thighs.  Oh, her thighs.  Royce kissed each in turn, his affection punctuated by the possessive graze of teeth.  Persephone whined her need, her fingers finding purchase in his hair, fisting where his head that was not scalped and sanded down to the skull. 

They lingered on the edge of something unspeakable, even among his long-ago cohort of lady-killers.  Something new to him, though he would not tell her so.  Yet he understood what Persephone was asking of him, and he had no desire to deny or disappoint. 

“I’ll give ya whatever you want, darlin’, just tell me what feels good.” 

Royce delivered a wide, white smile as he settled between parted legs.  While the perfectionist in him abhorred the thought of poor performance, of undertaking any task with less grace than the movie stars he styled himself after, he refused to let anyone see him sweat.  Certainly not Persephone.  He chuckled – a warm, confident sound – and bowed his head.  Nose nudging against her mound, he licked the length of her with the cold blade of his tongue.  Death might have dulled his senses, but he imagined the damp curls would tickle, and he dreamed of what she must taste like.  Something primal, something sweet, something secret. All his.

[ inner ] in a heated moment, sender trails kisses along receiver's inner thigh @princetorn

percy doesn't remember when she went from perched in his lap to laying on her back, but she's not complaining. beneath his touch, his mouth, she burns. she sighs against his cheek at the press of his fingers between her thighs, murmurs a little higher—yes, right there, just like that, thank you, thank you, angles her hips further into his hand. all too soon he's drawing away; she whines softly, helplessly, at the loss of friction, but quiets as he parts her thighs with icy hands and kisses his way down her body. as he does, she tries to imagine what she must look like through his eyes: flushed all over, lips swollen, hair an inky puddle around her head. as for royce... she props herself up on her forearms to get a better look at him.

he cuts a striking figure—death sneaking into the maiden's bower, bringing her to her doom. she should flinch away, scream in fright, or at the very least be frozen in place, a prey animal hoping that if it stays still, no harm will come to it. maybe she would have, were she normal. but she is persephone in the underworld, gorged on pomegranate, stained red with the juice of it. his ruined cheek, his hemorrhaged gaze, every inch of ragged flesh, none of it deters her. she's met plenty of boys with unspoiled features hiding monsters beneath, boys who know nothing of devotion and nothing of her.

royce presses his mouth to the flesh of her inner thigh, his eyes never leaving hers. she shivers and shifts her weight just enough to thread the fingers of her right hand through his hair. another kiss; an ache twists in her core like a knife. like this, there's no way to hide what he does to her—the evidence of her arousal glistens in the curls between her legs, and she knows he must have seen it. the thought makes her clench around nothing, a hitching breath, her grip in his hair tightening minutely.

"please," she says, her voice high and small. she wants his mouth on her; she'll gladly talk him through it, guide him with her hand that loosens its grip as she begs: "i need it. i need you."

#he's a fake it until you make it kind of guy #✮ royce × persephone — you look beyond the veil of form and separation #cw: nsft #inpiink

[princetorn]

The Outsiders 1983 | dir. Francis Ford Coppola

#✮ inspiration — you’re gonna run your body right into the ground #cw: gif #cw: smoking

[princetorn]

Lord, let them do my boy Royce justice. 🙏🏻

#and if they don't i guess it's up to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #he's basically an oc at this point anyway #i'll still be watching because apparently it's going to dig into the background of each ghost #i'm 🍿👀 #⋆ ooc

[princetorn]

Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

#✮ royce × persephone — you look beyond the veil of form and separation

[princetorn]

headcanon . I can’t overstate how dangerous Royce’s entanglement with Johnny was. If discovered, it wasn’t only his baseball scholarship he stood to lose – his family would have been disgraced, his friends would have abandoned him. Homosexuality was illegal, viewed as sinful and deviant, and ultimately the 1950s would prove to be one of the most repressive periods in US history. Henry would have almost certainly surrendered his only son into medical care, where aversion ‘treatment’ might include electroconvulsive therapy, electric shock therapy, or even ice-pick lobotomy.

#royce and johnny were each holding a gun to the other's head #but royce arguably had more to lose #their relationship was dangerous and toxic and riddled with internalised homophobia #anyway #asylum verse when? :') #✮ lore — to live in hearts we leave behind is not to die #cw: homophobia

[princetorn]

Send me a "👀" and My Muse will give 3 things they find Physically Attractive about Your Muse.

—Send even if our Muses haven’t spoken yet or don’t know each other

#just another meme in the collection #⋆ meme

[princetorn]

#✮ inspiration — you’re gonna run your body right into the ground #cw: gif

[princetorn]

i be out here romanticizing the shit out of front porches. bad day? sit on the front porch. good day? front porch. quarter life crisis? front porch.

#✮ musing — can’t you see this face on a baseball card?