L I E S & F I G H T S

/ By Ghostie [+Watch]

Replies: 8 / 6 years 342 days 12 hours 45 minutes 32 seconds

For me and _Prometheus~

Oh the bitchiness and lies.

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[font "Times New Roman" [size20 тнιѕ нoмeвody doeѕn’т need anyвody]]

[font "Times New Roman" Parrish realized much too late that he punched the wrong blonde-haired male in the face. He gasped, standing awkwardly, every muscle in his body clenching up in stark embarrassment. As Tate reeled, demanding "what was that for?!" Parrish surged forward, grasping his shoulders in a firm grip to steady the younger boy and spewing out an apology: [+red "Oh, god, man I'm so sorry! This guy like broke into my house and... I'm sorry, I really am; you just kind of look like him--"]]

[font "Times New Roman" [b "What if you broke my nose?!"] Tate demanded, forever putting on the facade.]

[font "Times New Roman" Even though Parrish couldn't see her, Moira was chuckling darkly on his bed. Tate held a certain type of disgust for her in the way he looked at her--it seemed there were hardly any spirits that liked what Moira did to people too fucking dumb to see past what she was pulling--but she just winked at him, crawling off the mattress and over to Parrish. She muttered an "excuse me" and slunk past him, swaying her hips the whole way down the hall in case he was watching--but he wasn't. He was focused worriedly on Tate's nose and what kind of explanations he'd have to face making.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+red "Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"] Parrish moved away from the door for a second, diving back into his room to snatch his car keys off the bedside table. He held them up to the blonde boy as if looking for some kind of approval.]

[font "Times New Roman" [b "That's not really nece--"]]

[font "Times New Roman" [+red "But I want to,"] Parrish insisted, and took Tate's wrist to lead him down the hall and down the stairs.]

[font "Times New Roman" [size20 тнιѕ вody woυld raтнer вe leғт alone]]

[font "Times New Roman" It was all amusing to the blonde-haired male. First of all, that the little kitten of the house was obsessed with fucking this guy, and secondly, how [i serious] Parrish was about his face. But then again, Tate wasn't sure how long it had been since he actually felt some sense of empathy for anyone, so maybe it was just him.]

[font "Times New Roman" Halfway down the stairs, Tate stopped, an epiphany obscuring every previous thought: this guy had sex with Moira all the time, right? And the old witch is actually a hag but looks like a hot lady to him, and that's the only reason he's attracted, so... Maybe Madelyn could do the same thing! Like pretend to be a girl or something. With his experience with Violet, boobs were pretty fun, so he was sure it was a win-win... But could the house do that? Could it fool someone into believing one of its victims was of a totally different gender? Not that Madalyn was even the most masculine of them all...]

[font "Times New Roman" [+red "I'm sorry again for your nose, dude,"] Parrish was saying--rambling, actually, as he stood at the front door. He noticed Tate wasn't moving and impatiently asked, [+red "Aren't you coming?"]]

[font "Times New Roman" [b "Actually, I think I'm gonna go home,"] Tate said, beaming something terrible as he opened the door for himself. [b "I'll be fine, no worries."]]

[font "Times New Roman" The door slammed and Parrish flinched.]

[font "Times New Roman" [size20 тнιѕ noвody doeѕn’т deѕerve anyвody]]

[font "Times New Roman" Moira was cleaning. Or at least that's what the brunette male told himself. He was in one of the spare rooms, fixing up some of the wall where there were cracks and painting over it so it came out evenly. He hated how dirty it had gotten him and definitely wanted to be clean in time for Chad and Patrick's visit, but he knew he wouldn't be able to shower until after everything in the room was finished.]

[font "Times New Roman" He wiped some forehead sweat on his shirt, lifting up the bottom hem to swipe it across, and sighed, sitting on the rung of the ladder he'd previously been standing on. The house was beautiful, but it needed a bit of work on the inside. Nothing he couldn't do or hire someone to do, though. He needed to keep busy anyway--in a way that didn't include his maid naked--so he supposed there was nothing better for him to do. Besides, he was still waiting for callbacks to go to job interviews. His money wasn't infinite and he knew that if he didn't have any, he'd lose Moira, he wouldn't be able to finish the house, and it'd be a dead weight on his name. He didn't want to feel like he owed this backwater town anything, so he'd be getting rid of it as soon as it was possible.]

[font "Times New Roman" He half-heartedly wondered what happened to the guy he punched--a guy he surprisingly forget to get a name from. Whatever. It happened all the time, just people coming and going out of the house constantly. It was nothing new.]

[font "Times New Roman" Tate observed the homeowner from the hall before slinking off to find Madalyn, a smug grin on his face. His plan was ingenious. If Madalyn didn't do it, well hell, he could try it himself--but he'd never fuck a guy. That's gross.]

[font "Times New Roman" [size20 ιт вecoмeѕ clearer aѕ ιт goeѕ]]

[b quoted song be I'll Deserve Just That by Touche Amore]
i just rattled this off really quickly i'm sorry
  SantaMonica / 6y 92d 15h 48m 37s
Madalyn's body shook with laughter as Parrish punched Tate in the face. He couldn't die laughing right now because he knew that Parrish might be able to hear him. Looking up he saw Moria's disapproving face, Madalyn frowned and gave her the finger. He's had it with her, he wished that she could actually be the one that could die and never come back. But she always did. Madalyn hated her guts, in spite of that he just walked out of the room. He couldn't stand being in there, but at the same time he craved to be in there. In fact, Moria was a maid. She should be cleaning up the shards of broken glass on the ground. Not fucking the guy that owns the house. It's really quite disgusting watching her old body move over to Parrish.

Why were men so.... disgusting, and why did he like them so much? Well for the most part all people were disgusting in his eyes, but women were never the ones that comforted him that gave him words of encouragement just words of hate and spite. But even the good apples turn bad as those that gave him comfort shoved him into the ground. Like Tate, they were never romantically involved but the male did give him good advice and acted like a good friend. Until Madalyn died then he saw Tate less and more people out to ruin his dead life.

For a few minutes Madalyn sat outside on the porch step and sighed trying to think of a better plan. Obviously he got lucky he went away or else it would have been his face that would be scuffed. He could always visit Beau or say he heard Patrick was there. Madalyn decided about a smoother approach and just simply knocked on the door of the big house. Madalyn thought for a few minutes, although it had bad moments it still had some good. Patrick was a good plus for him, and Beau was just the sweetest despite all appearances. When no one owns the house Moria is kind of sweet towards him. Madalyn just wished he could actually leave the house, explore some place new.

In all reality the house did save him. Madalyn went into a state of depression and wished to die loved. He thought he got his wish but this house let him see how wrong he really was. He was just another pawn in this house being used to get more suckers into it. The house did save him although the people in it did not. He wouldn't be lying if he said he did enjoy making some of the people in this house suffer. Patrick.... he cussed Tate out about his death. Violet he felt bad for. Thaddeus and Beau. All of those that didn't need to die he felt bad about. He still wondered how he would feel about Parrish's death. If he kept acting like a dickwad then Madalyn wouldn't feel bad about driving him up the wall.

Though maybe there was a sweeter side to him and that was what Madalyn wanted to find out.

  кαү∂εη / Ghostie / 6y 321d 22h 18m 22s
ιғ yoυ coмe over тonιgнт,

Sleep could be the one thing that could never be taken from him. Parrish could--and would--sleep through just about anything humanly possible. He'd slept through minor earthquakes and tornadoes before--so surely he could sleep through some meager knocking on his bedroom door. Surely he could sleep through raised voices on the lower floor of his house.

His dream was bland. There was nothing memorable about it so he would think he didn't dream at all when he finally woke from his slumber next to Moira. He had to explain to her what spooning was--what they were doing. Had she been living under a wrong or had she just been out of the dating pool so long she never knew what it was called? Parrish didn't mind because her smug confusion was kind of cute to him. And there they had fallen asleep.

we can тravel тнroυgн тιмe

Moira was woken by the first knock. She could hear the familiar voices of Madalyn and Tate outside. Oh, how she was so tired of hearing that blonde harlot's voice. He never seemed to be able to leave well enough alone. Didn't he understand Parrish wasn't like that? Didn't he understand they had no chance?

Parrish began to stir by the second round of knocking. Tate's knocking. He blinked hard a few times, trying to shake the chains of sleep off of him. Moira didn't move. She continued to pretend to be asleep.

Parrish looked at her first to see if she was awake but was convinced that she wasn't. He yawned and stretched, stepping over-- a broken lamp? When did that happen? He didn't remember ever breaking that.

No matter. It was replaceable.

He opened his door--confused as to how anyone had gotten in the house in the first place but just assuming it was Patrick and Chad. They had their own keys. It was as if the house was their home as much as it was his.

But no. The man at the door was neither Patrick nor Chad and Parrish immediately threw a fist.

we can ѕleep on тнe ceιlιng

Parrish stumbled back after he had punched him, and of course Moira was up and alert. He stood in front of her as his hand blindly searched for his bat.

"Get out of my house!" he screamed. "I don't know how the hell you got in here, but you better get your ass straight out of here before I beat you to a bloody pulp. I'm not fucking joking with you. Get out!"

and creep υnder вlacĸ lιgнтѕ.

  ѕweeт ѕerιal ĸιller / dying / 6y 332d 20h 55m 24s
It was the next day before Madalyn entered the house again. "What pretty Tiffany fixtures." He mocked the lady that had sold him the house. He swore that woman never died and wondered if she was stuck in this house too, although he's been in this house for far too long for that to be relevant. He heard a knock on the door and found Chad and Patrick. Madalyn rolled his eyes at the two, "Why can't you two get over this house? ... Not that I'm complaining." He said smirking as he looked over Patrick. It was true... they had a thing on Halloween and a few other times before, and as Chad puts it he was 'stuck in a relationship that will never get better.'

"Madalyn, would you kindly keep your sex kitten paws off of my boyfriend." Chad said pushing past him with a hard grip on Patrick's hand so he couldn't escape. "But it won't be my paws that goes somewhere. I think you and I both know that better than anyone." Madalyn told Chad, looking up to the next floor. "That son of a bitch thinks he loves Moria. She's nothing but an old hag that thinks she has it all." Madalyn sneered as he could just imagine him holding her waist as they napped together. "Oh does kitty think she has a new play toy?" Chad sneered right back at him.

Madalyn glared over at him, "Shut the fuck up and try not to screw up your sex life." He said before he went upstairs. He knocked on Parrish's door, putting on his more cutesy face. He rehearsed what he wanted to say and kept thinking about it. 'I'm sorry about last night, you see the person that last owned this house was someone I saw a lot. I'm just so used to coming here, I didn't even know you lived here. I'm sorry.' Yes it was perfect.... if the door would go ahead and open.

He waited outside till Tate walked by, "What the fuck is kitten doing out here?" He asked, before looking down the hallway, probably making sure that Violet wasn't down there. Madalyn made a face, "Why does everyone call me kitten? It's so demeaning to me." He asked the other, he looks at it as a reference to a woman which he hates. "Well you know... you look like one of those kittens that was left out in the rain in a box that says, 'To a good home.'" Tate explained as he checked the other half of the hallway.

Madalyn sighed before he looked at the door behind him again, "Can you do me a favor, and get the jackass out of his room. He's really starting to get underneath my skin, and I haven't even had a real conversation with him." Madalyn asked the other, Tate smirked as he looked down. "Awe did doggy give the kitten a nibble on the ears?" He mocked before knocking on the door himself. Madalyn glared hard, "Shut the fuck up Tate, you promised me a good home, you promised me I would be happy. Where am I now? Stuck in a search for happiness forever, because that's how this house works isn't it?" He flipped out on the other.

"I don't need you or anyone else in this godforsaken house, just go away." He continued as he slipped into the room that belonged to Parrish. The night lamp for last night was still in shambles on the ground, Madalyn rolled his eyes. What a jackass.

  Madalyn / Ghostie / 6y 337d 19h 28m 25s
don'т raιn on мy parade

It was all too confusing to Parrish. He stared at the blonde man with his eyebrows pulled together in a severe fashion, his muscles still straining as he told his arms he wasn't going to hit the guy. It was making him all so uncomfortable and his mouth opened and closed and opened again. How was he supposed to react? Was he supposed to hit him still even though that whole 'I wanna feel my bones pop' thing was really fucked up?

"What time is it?" he muttered to himself, looking down for a moment as he contemplated. Surely, it was too damn late for any kind of fucking 'neighbors'.

No worries, though. The little prick was leaving and Parrish couldn't have been more relieved.

His arms relaxed as the guy walked out of the room, ears straining to catch the sound of his front door closing. Moira came in a flurry, looking him over with her forever sexual gaze and speaking of washing the thought of that man away with her hands. If there was any human being ever capable of making him want them no matter the circumstances, it was Moira. She always knew exactly what to say.

Parrish sighed in relief at the sight of a familiar face, sitting heavily on his bed. "Did he leave?" he asked her, but she only smiled and dipped her head slightly as she sat on his lap.

"Such beautiful tattoos," she said huskily, a small grin on her lips. "You think they can rub off on me?" She traced the Stay Beautiful marked on his chest with her nail, that same grin clouding her young features as it so often did.

Parrish smiled just the slightest and shrugged, saying, "You know I'd always be happy to find out, but I'm too tired today and I've got work to do tomorrow. Chad and Patrick are coming over; you know that."

"Yes, I know that, but..." She took his hand and placed it on her hip, guiding it with an expert precision up her body. "Wouldn't you much rather work on me?"

The man looked down and sighed, contemplating heavily on what was at hand. "Moira..."

"Can't you see I'm aching for you? I... Oh, Parrish, I..." She took his hand and put it over her chest, her head lolling back, and at last she had pushed Parrish over the edge and he turned her around, setting her on the bed as he shook off his pajama pants.

It seemed as if their soundtrack was a flurry of gusts of breath and mismatched moans and groans for at least fifteen minutes--before Parrish heard a hard knock and looked up from what he was doing, his head snapping to his bedroom doorway. He was thinking of investigating before Moira mumbled his name as she pulled him back down and he forgot all about it. He was content with what he was doing for a few more seconds before a hard knock jolted him to his senses and he rushed apologies to his house maid as he hurriedly threw on his pajama pants, grabbed his bat, and started out the room, yelling to the quickly covering Moira, "Call the police! The little prick never left!"

Parrish proceeded down the stairs with his eyebrows pulled down in a deeply angered fashion, his bat raised. He knew he wouldn't hesitate to fuck up whoever he found.

He made it to the door and through the lower level of the house with no incidents. He peeked outside and saw no one, so he went back up the stairs, making a "shush" motion as he passed his bedroom, where Moira lay hardly looking surprised half under a sheet. The second floor was also clear, so Parrish relaxed his arms at last and sighed, wiping his forehead and running his hand through his hair as he proceeded back into his bedroom.

"My hero," Moira said slowly.

ι lιĸe ιт вeттer wнen yoυ can'т ĸeep warм

  ѕweeт ѕerιal ĸιller / _Prometheus / 6y 339d 13h 17m 43s
"Oh crack my bones? You would like that wouldn't you? Well so would I, your big muscles wrapped around my twig arm and just pop. It reminds me of firecrackers... You know I love firecrackers. They take the pain away. I would love for you to crack my bones. Leave you say? Okay I will, but I'll be back. You might want to know why but..." Madalyn bites his lips as he looks over Parrish again, trailing his eyes back to Parrish's face he continued, "Welcome to the neighborhood, my name is Madalyn, I'm your neighbor." He said walking around the room looking at things and as he started to end his statement he inched closer to the door. "If you need anything don't hesitate to call for me." He walked out of the room and made sure to make himself invisible.

It looked like he was going to have more fun with this then he thought. Moria met him at the end of the hallway, "Madalyn, step away. Clearly he doesn't like you." She whispered to him harshly before entering Parrish's room and apologizing about the intruder. That she wouldn't mind taking Madalyn's filthy touch off of Parrish.

Madalyn rolled his eyes and went back into the room. If there was one thing he was grateful of Moria was that he could see every muscle that rippled in his back as he thrust into the being below him. Madalyn would imagine that it was him instead of Moria. If there was anyone that was creepy in this house it was her. Madalyn hated her more than anyone else in this house. She always stole his toys. She never shared. She never played nice... not that Madalyn played nice either. At least he shared. Another thing at least he didn't have wrinkles every where.

Madalyn pushed the lamp off the nightstand laughing, he would make them both pay. No one deserved the happiness he was promised. No one knew the happiness that he was promised. He wanted to know the purpose of life, how to become happy, Madalyn never knew happiness and he craved for it.

He was hoping he would get it with this new resident, hoping he would have that happiness, and so far he did see it. That's why he had to ruin it for the rest of those trapped. It would be his alone. Madalyn knocked on the front door to distract them from their... activity. A few minutes he slammed his fist even harder on the door against the hard wood oak... or maybe it was mahogany, he didn't really care.

  Madalyn / Ghostie / 6y 339d 16h 24m 42s
ι've coмe нere aѕ a мan ιn ѕнaмвleѕ

It never would have bothered him much whether or not his father's old house got sold if he had an Anchor. Parrish didn't have anything-- hadn't had anything--interesting enough to hold him in any town for as long as he could remember. Now that his father was dead, he wasn't required to live within close proximity to him in case of an emergency anymore. He was free.

He was finally free, and still he felt as if he were sinking, a slow descent to hell.

The cat he had adopted in his last town, named Cheetah, mewed from her cage in the backseat of Parrish's car. The car was quiet; he'd found that the music he played only made him think deeper on his problems, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd turned it off miles ago.

The house seemed to be in all the glory and more as he finally arrived. He hadn't expected it to look so... great. What a shame he had to fix it just so he could sell it. If he found something worthwhile, he could have been otherwise convinced to stay and keep it. After all, it was left to his name, completely paid off and at his mercy.

"Cheetah, what do you think?" he asked, but the cat was quiet.

worn oυт ғroм вeggιng on мy ĸneeѕ

It was at least a week before Parrish actually decided he'd sleep in the house. It was no less than three days before he'd begun to feel royally fucked up. Moira was... this fine as hell woman who'd basically appointed herself house maid. Parrish knew he'd probably have to do some other things to make more money, but he couldn't make himself say no to her. Who could? She was almost dripping in sex. Then there were... other people. Parrish could never pay enough attention to their names, but people kept popping in and out of his house, claiming to be neighbors and whatnot and other people wanting to be his 'friend'. He had never been so sure he liked what that meant, but at the same time, he didn't make his complaining obvious. There was, after all, a nice gay couple that lived near him that offered decorating advice for the house so to better sell it. Ah, yes--Chad and Patrick. What a nice couple.

Months into living there, Parrish got used to people bombarding him with sudden visits and appearances. He didn't know where any of them really lived, but he wasn't bothered too much by that fact. As long as they didn't try anything fishy, he was okay with their presence.

Except, of course, for a few less-than-friendly neighbors.

ι нave нalғ a мιnd тo мaĸe yoυ нυrт,

His shower had been longer than normal that day because he couldn't bring himself to come out. He was comfortable there. The water was warm and it could comfort him like nothing else on earth could. Not even like Cheetah when he was feeling a little less like himself.

Then the water very suddenly went cold and he dove out of the shower with no time left to spare.

The man shivered as he turned off the tap with shaking hands, wondering what in hell had happened, though it was too late to call anyone to come see about busted pipes. He sighed as he dried himself off along with his hair and put on underwear and pajama pants, his formal night wear. He had no one to accompany him in his bed that night, which was a change, so he was going alone.

тo мaĸe yoυ вleed,

Cheetah lay in wait on his bed, purring at the sight of him. Parrish smiled at her and rubbed her head a little before turning his light off and snuggling up in bed next to her. Cheetah was his most intimate partner, the closest any living thing had ever gotten to his heart. He really loved that cat to death.

His dreams were plagued with him running through smoke, a voice following behind him relentlessly. He tossed and turned as it whispered his name and ramblings of him next to men. His breath caught as vices rose through the darkness of his nightmare and wrapped choking arms around him, holding him too close, a deathly grip sure to be the end of him. The man screamed to his heart's content in his dream. It was no use. The voice continued, the vices moved and continued burning him with their touch.

And quite suddenly, he jerked himself awake, sweaty and uncomfortable, next to another man.

Parrish screamed. He screamed at the blonde man lying in bed beside him, his arm suspended in mid-air from where Parrish had moved. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" he screamed, running the few paces to where he had his baseball bat. He raised it, unafraid to swing at the intruder. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE BEFORE I BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR SICK BODY!"

тo мaĸe yoυ ѕυғғer.

  ѕweeт ѕerιal ĸιller / _Prometheus / 6y 340d 12h 53m 3s
Madalyn, a name that he was cursed with. A name he grew to hate as his parents pressured him into the things he never wanted to do. The dresses, the beauty pageants, and just everything of his child hold was a sick reminder of who he had become. The faggot that ruined the homes of many, and broke the hearts of those that claimed they would never fall for the male. He didn't even make it out of high school before he dropped out and moved. Sick of the views of society and the distasteful glances of his parents as he played around with the food on his plate. Many people might ask him where exactly he got the money, but with parents that didn't want to see you ever again and the wallets of many men to keep quiet he afforded the nicest cheapest house. No questions, no answers.

A few days later he swore he heard someone in the basement talking. It took a few more days before someone greeted him, a fighting gay couple. The blonde, Patrick's eyes had lingered on Madalyn a little too long as the dark haired one, Chad, started to fuss again. Madalyn had placed a hand onto Chad's telling him it was alright and that nobody was doing anything wrong. Brad looked like a tomato after his words and stormed out of the house with Patrick, Madalyn smirked and made a sign for Patrick to call him. So what if he was a harlot, he wanted to be happy. He wanted to be understood.

After years of coming to know the many ghosts of the house he learned that he understood Chad about as much as he understood the rest of them. It hurt, everything hurt when someone came to this house. The sad part was there was no leaving for Madalyn. He didn't have a job, or a high school degree. There was nothing but his parent's money and the cock that he sucked. But there was no real happiness in this house, just a house of misery. It came to the fourth of July when Madalyn heard them talking again. They were celebrating, no matter how small the celebration was he could hear the sparklers outside and the sounds of small poppers. Oh how he longed to be out there.

As he made his way outside he grabbed a lighter and heard them whisper to him, "Have fun Madalyn, you can't escape this house, why don't you just join us. Everyone ends up joining us anyways. It'll be happier." Madalyn couldn't agree more, taking all of the new firecrackers he went into the basement and light one, he laid right next to it. Never asking for forgiveness and never looking away as he held his hands out to the ones that promised him happiness. His chest was blown to pieces with his heart being the last to go. Madalyn was soon hit with the reality that not even death could change the events that unfolded in that house. He and Moria seemed to always find some kind of anatomy of the males that were present in this house even years later.

Soon there was a new occupant in the house, one that was different then the rest. It lead to Madalyn being upset, he was determined to make the rest of these damned people feel the same as him. He didn't mind that much of a challenge. "Parrish..." He whispered into the night hoping to get his attention, "Parrish... Don't you want to... have a real man with you at night? I mean I know you want to, but it's always nice to hear you say it." Madalyn whispered in the other's ear laying next to him. It was something that had went on for months. This was Madalyn's bed, he laid in it every night hoping he would wake up. He didn't mind sharing it with a nice buff man like Parrish.

Madalyn sighed and wrapped his arms around the other, "You don't even have to say it, I can feel it." Madalyn told the other, one of his hands drifting to his leg. "I know you miss the feel of someone next to you."

  Madalyn / Ghostie / 6y 341d 22h 30m 23s

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