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12 posts

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@livefastmax

⠀ 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴⠀﹒⠀𓉳⠀⠀⠀#⃝⠀⠀⠀˖⠀⠀ 𝙸𝚃⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝙰𝙻𝙻⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝙰͟𝚂͟ ͟ ⠀⠀݁⠀⠀… ⠀⠀♱⠀⠀⠀ 𝐈𝐓⠀⠀〝⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚂⠀⠀𓈒⠀ོ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝖡𝖠𝖢𝖪⠀ ⠀ 𝖳𝖮⠀ ⠀ 𝖬𝖤

Beigetreten Aralık 2025
56 Folgt56 Follower
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𓇚@livefastmax·
/ extremely temporary pinned, please don’t retweet. independent portrayal of max caulfield from life is strange to double exposure and everything in-between. literate, storyline driven, an immense work in progress.
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𓇚@livefastmax·
her past, shackled amidst the lulls of a life outgrown. she laughs. “free of charge, too,” the amusement settles, dry and fluttering, in her throat. “i don’t know what i ever did to deserve you, pirate.”
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𓇚@livefastmax·
from her bones. it remains as it always has, a haunting, a phantom limb, a sore in the lungs. it still feels weird to be back, caught in a town unchanged and unmade: she sloughed off the skin of this coastal purgatory like a molting cicada, yet here she remains, drawn back to
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𓇚@livefastmax·
the girl of the grain and the light-leak, suspended in a pendulum of their own making: max is mottled with wistfulness, the woodchips a mosaic of rot and cedar, a mulch of forgotten recesses. five years in the glass-eyed glare of seattle have not purged the marrow of this place
ًً@morphopriced

the swing-set groans under the weight of the years, a shrill, rhythmic screech that cuts through the stagnant air of the park. cold iron biting through the shoulder of her jacket as she leans against the rusted frame. cobalt irises follow the drag of the bruised sunset light

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‌‌ ꩜@didionplath·
Times, by Douglas Gordon, 2011
‌‌ ꩜ tweet media
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𓇚@livefastmax·
the seat. she kicks at meandering mulch, bark dust grating beneath her feet. “this place used to give me the heebie-jeebies like crazy, @morphopriced.”
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𓇚@livefastmax·
the sun is dripping. spilling, a bloated and jaundiced eye, bleeding its clambering light over the empty playground, baptizing the rusted iron in its false sanctity. the swing-set is claimed once, twice; she finds girlhood in the weight of the saddle, nostalgia in the cradle of
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ؘ
ؘ@vanyIac·
ؘ tweet media
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𓇚@livefastmax·
all good.” the sapphire veins at her temples swell and molt in anguish, those delicate, branching rivulets of azure. she tries to hold herself steady. “you don’t happen to have any ibuprofen on you, do you?”
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𓇚@livefastmax·
her pale hand rises to massage the throbbing temples where the hot blood gallops, a wilting lily in the gloom. each throb is a heavy, velvet-wrapped blow, each wince an awful crater of misery. this is ridiculous, she thinks, grimacing with an awkward, fractured grin. “yes, yeah.
𝑺𝑨𝑭𝑰@borrowedfaces

she notices it before max even says anything. it’s small, subtle, but safi doesn’t miss things like that. the shift in her posture. the way her hand comes up too fast. the way her breathing stutters like something just… hit. “hey—” it’s immediate, low, sharp with attention, ——

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𓇚@livefastmax·
a needle-fine splintering starting at the temple, a hairline fissure in the pate, a headache fractures nasty and whole at the seam of her nape; she finds herself captive to this ache.
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