( & MOON HEALER. )

I WILL RANSOM THEM FROM THE POWER OF THE GRAVE, I WILL REDEEM THEM FROM DEATH selective & semi-private original character

[bonebitten-a-deactivated2018012]

  Mutant Exclusive Doctor’s Office  Accepting patients.          Call the number below for a FREE consultation.

[b-humika-deactivated20170329]

Sasha Luss by Hugh Lippe for Vs. Magazine, 10th Anniversary Issue.

[modelsinstagram]

@ sashaluss:

[eveninglesbian-deactivated20180]

I forgot softness because it did not serve me.

Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless (via eveninglesbian)

[gloomy-draws]

[modelsinstagram]

@ sashaluss:

[aalbescent]

@invisibcnes

          It had been a routine healing, at first. She met with the patient, determined what dose would most benefit them, and then, per their request, allowed them to drink it directly from her wrist. A little uncomfortable, maybe, but nothing she’s never done before. It had been normal. They healed, slowly, they paid, slowly. They shook her hand, slowly.           It was the handshake, probably. That small glimmer of touch led to a feeling like an electric jolt running through her, an alarmed expression on her patient’s face, then -- nothing. Or everything. Everything in the entire world spinning around and through her: thoughts, dreams, all of it. Glimpses of lives she will never touch, until she does, and it’s like being absorbed into the sun.           Then true nothing. A suspension that lasts a minute or a century, she has no way of knowing. Things come to her slowly. Feelings, sounds, smells. Rough dirt under her. A coolness. A rushing. Something small crawling over what is probably going to be her leg.           Beth takes a few moments to rest, gather herself, before opening her eyes. She’s in a -- desert, maybe? Dusty and yellowed, like the inside of god’s mouth. She looks at the lizard on, yes, her leg (she gently picks it up and sets it down, away from her) and rain. Rain wetting her hair, her dress, making it hard to see anything. She could be on a different planet for all she knows.           She stands slowly and, once at full height, glares at the moon as if it was its fault. ❝ Stupid time travelers, didn’t bother to mention they could send other people through time by touch, didn’t think that was necessary !! ❞           Teeth gritted, thumb rubbing over the healing wound on her wrist, she begins to walk. 

[clichey]

Sasha Luss by Jean Baptiste Soulliat Dior - Paris Fashion Week PFW PAP AW15

[mortemalae]

| Hortus Edenis |

{ @aalbescent }

            –♈–   The feeling was indescribable. 

As if called upon by an unknown force, the fallen sat straighter upon his throne, eyes narrowing to small slits. Impossible. There has been none other since that day. Lithe fingers snapped then, bringing forth two demons to his feet. His command was silent but understood: find her,  report to me.

He stood slowly, the ligaments and muscles beneath the flesh he wore seemed to roll in appreciation of his stature. His mind reeled, a thousand thoughts of the past, of the joyous moments he found pure delight in, and he began to pace. No, he wouldn’t wait for his demons to return. He’d go find her himself. 

And he was among the living in no time at all, his senses leading him to a dimly lit bar on the outskirts of a busy city– he forgot the name, he cared very little anyway. Once inside he scanned the crowd, but was stopped by two suspicious looking gentlemen. Clever disguise boys, now split. The two pointed in the direction of a pale-haired female before walking around him and eventually disappearing into the nothingness from whence they came. 

The fallen inhaled sharply. She was as beautiful in this form as she had been in the other; there was no mistaking it now. He wasn’t sure why the asshole above had decided now to bring her back, probably for some divine purpose, but he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to tempt her again. 

Slithering through the crowd like the snake he once was, Lucifer sat upon the bar stool beside the woman and ordered a drink. He sat in silence for now, his senses heightened and seeming to scream the woman’s true name so loud it reverberated within his skull. 

            Eve.

[aalbescent]

The bar she’d selected that night was a decision based purely on its offer of privacy. The chance to sit still and drink, drink until the alcohol somehow managed to affect her, if that was possible at all. She sat on the bar stool, legs crossed, dimly aware of her surroundings, enough to not notice the rowdy men or the loud laughter, but enough to notice something strange. Strange like horrible, strange like beautiful, a scent almost that tickled her insides in a way that almost hurt. She turns in the direction of the feeling and sees a man.  Beth has been around divine beings before, holy creatures, people with abilities more extraordinary than her own, just enough to recognize the aura of power surrounding him. She assumes the other people can’t feel it, which must be why they continue doing what they had been doing prior to his entrance. She, for one, can’t recall what she had been doing. Something in her recognizes him, in a brutal and ancient way. Her body leans toward him, then away, then back toward, subtly. She wants to speak but her lips feel glued shut. Words die on her throat, words stained with things like loyalty, betrayal, seduction.  Temptation. He’s the embodiment of it. Her lips part, finally.              ❝ I don’t know you. ❞ Somehow, that feels like a betrayal of its own.     

[aalbescent]

ok i’m back after hiatus again so ?? like this for a lil starter <33

Visit Original Link

’Cause she’s a cruel mistress And a bargain must be made

[pigmenting]

to choose your own gods & ghosts, your own excruciating stars.

Joe Wilkins, from “Explain: Harvest”  (via violentwavesofemotion)

[theoldestchorusgirlintheworld]

Anne Carson, The Glass Essay

[transcendedhumanity-blog]

@aalbescent starter call

She favoured Beth’s company over any other’s. Perhaps it was because they were two sides of the same coin, or perhaps one and the same; or maybe, she simply did not want to be alone again. They were creatures of odd visage and strange gifts that made them far, far different to the ordinary man, woman or child—it made Fleurette wholly dependent on her companion, not only on account of her being her “eyes,” but also because she so little on her own. She had years of learning to do about the outside world, and she would not be deprived anymore.

She found purchase next to Beth, seating herself comfortably with a meek smile. In pale hands, the albino clutched a book. Now, books in Braille were hard to come by, and Fleurette was hardly short of a reader’s enthusiasm—that was where, once again, she needed her friend.

               ❝Beth… could you read to me, s’il vous plaît ?❞

[aalbescent]

                    Strange, perhaps, but she found Fleurette’s company more comforting than anyone else’s. Maybe the role she found herself in gave her a simple joy -- that of being her eyes; or the feeling of being a physical person to which Fleurette could revolve around: safe, because Beth would protect her. Yes, that’s it. She liked being a wall or a statue for her to use, to let go if she needs to, to jump as high or run as far as she pleases, to let her be safe in the knowledge that Beth would always pull her back from the edge. It’s a strange kind of pleasure, but one Beth never regrets.                       She had been carefully addressing packages to clients (never will she get used to thinking of them as patients; clients is the better of the two, though implies a monetary transaction) when she senses Fleurette’s presence, instinctively opening her mind so she can find her, can tell what she’s doing as easily as she could with sight.                      Beth sets the packages aside and smiles, one that lets the movement ring out through her mind -- like feeling sunlight, something she does so Fleurette never has to wonder what her expression is.                      ❝ Of course !! ❞ She gently takes the book, fingertips lightly dusting over the cover before opening it. She clears her throat and begins to read. 

[wolfskiinned-deactivated2017112]

   ‘you sound a bit like me.’ well, to an extent that was. ‘I’m hard to kill.     only two ways you can kill me, kill me. not about to spill that information,     but I take some weird pride in that. hunters are QUITE stupid though     shooting at me — funniest part.’ they think, ‘oh, a werewolf! wolfsbane     and silver will put it down’ – wrong!

    ‘no, I OBVIOUSLY want to be friends.’ he corrects, glass in hand raised     as a thank you and he “downs” the rest. wasn’t every day, night, that he     meets some robot woman, artificial, but he would call her ROBOT. she     wasn’t judging him nor was she giving him strange looks; and, the best     part? she actually believed him. they were going to be the b e s t of friends.

    ‘let’s not make this a sad occasion though. and, no I don’t know. she     wasn’t in my life, gone before I turned one.’ smile would remain, he     ( really ) doesn’t want this to be a sad occasion, but she did ask —

[aalbescent]

They’ve only had little bit of conversation so far but Beth already feels attached to him, somewhat -- he hasn’t even asked her for blood yet. Everyone does. Everyone’s got a dying relative. && while it’s nice to help, it’s almost as nice to be treated as some- thing OTHER than a bloodbag. Well, robot, but she’ll take what she can get. ❝ What, afraid I’ll use it against you? ❞ She’s teasing, lip of her glass pressed against her mouth, though not to hide her smile.  ❝ Nah, I get it. I’ve got some weaknesses too. Those usually come right after the Dead Mother story, though. ❞ Man -- how nice to talk so freely. She’s half sure he’d probably listen if she wanted to vent, and totally sure that she can joke about that stuff now without getting any pity. She’s sick of pity, just wants someone to joke back at her.

❝ Friends, then. ❞ She raises her glass in a cheers! sort of gesture, grinning like a fool. She’s got the worst track record with friends -- she trusts them with her life, with everything, and sometimes they leave, sometimes they use her. Sometimes they die. Doesn’t stop her from trying again.  ❝ Alright, we can skip the heavy details. Mine was killed when I was a teenager, because of me. Glad I knew her, though. ❞ She sets her glass down audibly, tilting her head toward him & resting her chin in her hand. ❝ So why are you here, anyway? It’s not the nicest of bars, I don’t think. I came out to meet a pretty girl. Though I don’t really remember at this point. ❞

[secretusreginam]

And even my DARKEST moments, where submission and surrender are all that plague my mind, it is the sun that I seek. A golden light manifesting from the shadows, peering over the horizon of my blurred vision. The day has come to start anew and it will become my SALVATION.                      For I am a woman that can conquer with this power in my hand                            and the sun protecting my back from tempting shadows.

banner credit to kiraahachi​

[wolfskiinned-deactivated2017112]

   ‘so you were CREATED, not in the most conventional way though?     meaning —’ it was obvious to what he meant, he liked the idea too     it was different ( if that was the word ). ‘man, and here I thought     you were a COOL robot.’ he fakes a quick expression of being     disappointed, a dramatic sigh to follow.

   ‘guess we can still be friends.’ now he is grinning, indication that     he was only teasing. this was a good thing that he met her, in a     way that is. someone that wasn’t quite normal, and yet someone     who obviously believes him; it felt g o o d, lack of a better word.

    ‘I think my mother was normal too.’ was, he wouldn’t know though     he never met her. ‘aren’t all parents though? or, they’re just really     WEIRD.’

[aalbescent]

She laughs, the sound spilling out of her like marbles scattered across the floor: something fun, something joyous. ❝ I’m a cool person, though !! If you shot me right now it wouldn’t kill me. If you set me on fire, or blew me up, anything really, I’d be fine. ❞ Sure, it’d hurt like hell -- but not for long, and she’d be able to walk away from it, which is the most important part, really.  ❝ If you don’t want to be friends, I can buy someone else drinks...?? ❞

❝ Think? Don’t you know? -- mine was the best, she was weird && cool, she protected me. If I ever have children -- I can only hope I’ll be as good  as she was. ❞ Rather than sad, her tone was nostalgic. Happy in remembering her mother, rather than mourning her still. She smiles down at her drink, maybe a little sad.