UN·RE·PENT·ANT

ind. serial killer oc. triggering af.

[vivienvalentino]

From (◕‿◕✿) to  ಠ_ಠ in 0.03

[boyvile]

GIRLVILE     /      ROTTING GIRL.

DO  YOU  KNOW  THE  DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN        cut me      and      fuck me    ?       between bedsheets and car upholstery,      an empty house and a crowded parking lot,      a kiss and a butterfly knife    ?       you don’t      notice      the guidance counselor.       you’re already bleeding.       (       don’t move,      hold still,      it’s just a game,      gracie    !       )       throat bared,      you should step away      —      sharp blade,      hungry eyes,      he could kill you,      you’d let him kill you.       if that’s what he wanted,      you’d let him.

‘        i don’t care.        ’

closer,      closer,      hand moves to wrist,      to fingers,      to knife.       you swipe your forefinger along the edge,      split the skin on purpose,      draw a line of red across your collarbone like a surgical guideline.       start here    !      cut here    !

‘        nobody’s even      watching.        ’

HOW YOU ACHE.          you disgusting boy,     is    this    all it takes  ?          you can feel your    restraint    wearing thin;     somewhere,     the frayed tether is about to snap,     and when it does     ––     when it does,     you grab hold of her wrist and    twist    in one swift motion,     spin the balisong before dragging the edge of the blade across her open palm,     watch the flesh split open.          the cut curves in the shape of a smile,     the smile that begins to hook the corners of your mouth,     frightening and ominous.

skin pales beneath your iron grip,     bruises.          blood pools in the palm of her hand and drips from the blade and you guide it to her    throat,     not the knife but the hand;     you want to see the print there as if were    yours.          only then do you look at her and finally    see    her,     but it isn’t enough          (          it isn’t enough it’s never enough you want more you need to see more.          )          ❛          get in.          ❜

[buckykingofmemes]

i brought a knife to a gunfight, which was really unfair to the guy with the gun

[boyvile]

MUSE AESTHETICS:     BODY / APPEARANCE.

tagged:     stole it  ! tagging:    @girlvile,    @cruelety,    @cruorseeps,    @undeade  !

BODY.          long legs.    short legs.    average legs.    slender thighs.    thick thighs.    muscular thighs.    skinny arms.    soft arms.    average arms.    muscular arms.    toned stomach.    flat stomach.    flabby stomach.    soft stomach.    six-pack.    beer belly.    lean frame.    slender frame.    beefy/muscular frame.    voluptuous frame.    petite frame ( 5 ft 4 or shorter ).    lanky frame.    short nails.    long nails.    manicured nails.    dirty nails.    flat ass.    toned ass.    bubble butt.    thick ass.    small waist.    average waist.    thick waist.    narrow hips.    average hips.    wide hips.    big feet.    average feet.    small feet.    soft feet.    slender feet.    calloused feet.    calloused hands.    soft hands.    big hands.    average hands.    small hands.    long fingers.    short fingers.    average fingers.    broad shoulders.    underweight.    average weight.    overweight.

HEIGHT.          shorter than 140 cm.    141 cm-150 cm.    151 cm to 160 cm.    161 cm to 170 cm.    171 cm to 180cm.    181 cm to 190 cm.    191 cm to 2m.    taller than 2 m.

HAIR.          thin.    thick.    fine.    normal.    greasy.    dry.    soft.    shiny.    curly.    frizzy.    wild.    unruly.    straight.    smooth.    wavy.    floppy.    cropped.    pixie-cut.    short.    shoulder length.    back length.    waist length.    floor length.    buzz cut.    bald.    jaw length.    mohawk.    white.    platinum blonde.    golden blonde.    dirty blonde.    ombre.    light brown.    mouse brown.    chestnut brown.    golden brown.    chocolate brown.   dark brown.    jet black.    ginger.    auburn.    dyed red.    dyed any “unnatural color”.    thin eyebrows.    average eyebrows.    thick eyebrows.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS.          full sleeve.    thigh tattoo.    shin tattoo.    wrist tattoo.    hand/finger tattoo.    foot tattoo.    neck tattoo.    face tattoo.    chest tattoo.    one tattoo.    a few here and there.    multiple.    no tattoo.    monroe piercing.    nose piercing.    septum.    nipple piercing(s).    genital piercing(s).    industrial piercings.    earlobe piercing.    prince albert piercing.    eyebrow piercing(s).    tongue piercing(s).    lip piercing(s).    tragus piercing.    angel bites.    labret.    stretches out ears.    navel piercing.    inverse navel piercing.    cheek piercing(s).    smiley.    nape piercing(s).    no piercings.

COSMETICS.          eyeliner.    light eyeliner.    heavy eyeliner.    cat eyes.    mascara.    fake eyelashes.    matte lipstick.    regular lipstick.    lipgloss.    red lips.    pink lips.    dark lips.    bronzer.    highlighter.    eyeshadow.    neutral eyeshadow.    smoky eyes.    colorful eyeshadow.    blush.    lipliner.    light contouring.    heavy contouring.    powder.    matte foundation.    dewy foundation.    concealer.    wears make up regularly.    wears it from time to time.    never wears make-up.

SCENT.          floral.    fruity.    perfumes.    aftershave.    cocoa.    moisturizer.    natural soap.    shampoo.    cigarettes.    leather.    sweat.    food.    incense.    marijuana.    cologne.    whiskey.    wine.    fried food.    blood.    fire.    metal.    rain.    grass.    ocean.    autumn leaves.    baked bread.    freshly baked cookies.    smoke.    campfire.    lavender.    trees.    pumpkin pie.    musk.    rose.    gingerbread.    oak.    honey.    lemon.   vanilla.    coffee cake.    mint.    raw hyde.

CLOTHES.          jeans.    tight pants.    over - knee socks.    tights.    leggings.    yoga pants.    pencil skirt.    tight skirt.    loose skirt.    tight/formfitting dress.    cardigans.    blouse.    button up shirt.    band-t-shirt.    sports-t-shirt.    sweatpants.    tank top.    cut off t-shirt.    designer.    high street.    online stores.    thrift.    lingerie.    long skirt.    miniskirt.    maxi - dress.    sun dress.    tie.    tuxedo.    cocktail dress.    high slit dress/skirt.    t-shirt.    loose clothing.    tight clothing.    jean shorts.    sweater.    sweater vest.    khaki pants.    suit.    hoodie.    harlem pants.    basketball shorts.    boxers.    briefs.    thong.    hot pants.    hipster panties.    bra.    sports bra.    crop top.    corset.    ballerina skirt.    leotard.    polka dot.    stripes.    glitter.    silk.    lace.    leather.    velvet.    chemise.    patterns.    florals.    neon colors.    pastels.    plaid.    black.    dark colors.    fur.    faux fur.

SHOES.           sneakers.    slip-ons.    flats.    slippers.    sandals.    high heels.    kitten heels.    ankle boots.    combat boots.    boots.    cowboy boots.    knee-high.    platforms.    stripper heels.    bare feet.    loafers.

REPOST,     DON’T REBLOG  !

[beverlysmarsh]

(◕‿◕✿)

[boyvile]

CRUELETY     /     ROTTING BOY.

“    i don’t usually put that much thought into it.   it’s just      ——      what else are you supposed to do with a detached head,   y’know?   ”     bury it,   burn it   (    the way you burned them   )    but that’s too easy for you now,     isn’t it?    your life’s empty;    you might as well find enjoyment somewhere,    even if it’s the misery of others.   especially if it’s the misery of others.

you fall silent in thought,    as though you’re planning a project,    not someone’s murder.    “    we could send the parts to the whole family.    christmas morning,    a pile of presents shows up at the door from daddy dearest.    daughter gets the head,   son gets the lungs,   grandma gets the heart.    we could even be considerate and let his wife keep his dick.    might be able to let herself finish if she’s the one using it.    ”

❛          I DON’T KNOW,          what do    most people    do with a detached head  ?          ❜          you have an idea.          just like dahmer,     just like metheny.          you have an idea and you’re    sick,     you’re sick  -  minded filth and    he’s    cut from the very same rotten cloth.          wretched boys,     do you feel you have nothing to    atone    for  ?

you grin and it’s    teeth,     it’s the    devil    in you that want to come play    ––    the devil is a red  -  skinned little man with horns and a tail that sits on your shoulder and    cheers          (          he wants to play he wants to play he wants to play but maybe that’s just you,     maybe that’s    you    and maybe that’s bloodthirst.          )          ❛          a nice    christian    family in a quaint little suburb,     gathered ‘round the tree on christmas morning.          the doorbell rings.          a box is on the front stoop and it bleeds onto the concrete  ...     no,     no,     that’s    overkill.          spread it out over the next year and tear their    sanity    apart,    piece by fucking piece.          ❜

[hipsterhanzo-blog]

i love angry characters 

i love characters who are open and vocal about their anger– whether it is directed at a toxic system, person, or at an event or circumstance unique to them 

i love angry characters because i am sick of anger being seen as something that is uncouth and something that should be restrained, kept quiet, never acted upon 

i love angry characters because i am angry, and anger isn’t always rational, but it is real and deserves to be acknowledged –people and characters should have the right to be loud and angry and for it to not constantly be shown in a negative light 

[boyvile]

lyrical starter call.          capping at five  -  ten  !

[boyvile]

GIRLVILE     /     ROTTING GIRL.

YOU  WANT  TO  TEST  IT  OUT,        guide his hand by the wrist,      blade to flesh,      let him split you open      —      remember when he cut too deep and you needed      stitches      but all you wanted to do was bleed.       (       get up you stupid bitch get up get the fuck up don’t tell them a fucking thing do you hear me      do you       )       teeth clamp down,      bite into the corner of your lip,      draw a bead of red.       you think      skin - muscle - sinew - bone,      think      throat - sternum - stomach - hips,      think you shouldn’t have worn that      fucking      lotion today.

‘        with that    ?        ’

you touch it with a fingertip,       gently.       that glint in your eye again,      like gunmetal,      like knife - steel,      like you have to tear everything apart.

‘        try it on me first.      before class.        ’        step closer,      here’s your collarbone,      here’s your throat,      here’s ten more minutes,      here’s what he wants.

YOU CAN’T DO THAT HERE.          not here,     not in front of these people,     in front of    classmates    and team members and the    guidance counselor,     the guidance counselor walking from her    red jalopy    and stopping in the middle of the parking lot.          knows that something is wrong here,     something is amiss.          she ponders what you hold in your hand and considers investigating,     but your mother has put the    fear of god    in her heart and so she changes her mind.          

her    navy blue polka dot dress    is the last you see of her before she disappears inside the building.

you look at gracie,     her throat,     her collarbone,     the space in between.          (          don’t move gracie you’ll be okay i won’t cut too deep i promise let me show you          )          your pulse quickens with    promise    and you feel the    heat,     you feel you feel you feel    ––    you want to    hurt    her,     to siphon the life out of her.          you want to open her throat          (          intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts          )           and watch her bleed.          (          try it on me first before class try it on me first          )          ❛          we talked about this.          ❜

[quietvoiced]

[boyvile]

CRUELETY     /     ROTTING BOY.

“   you know,   i’m actually pretty excited about the iphone x.    now,    when i cut someone’s head off,   i can open their phone and find the exact name of their kid,   so when i mail the head back home,   i’ll get to put their name on it and traumatize them,   not just the wife.   ”    /    @teendisgust

❛          SO,     WHAT ARE YOU THINKING  ?           christmas  ?          traveling businessman    finally    returns home for the holidays,     with a twist  ?          i was hoping for something a little more ...     macabre.          ❜

[emiliaaclarke]

[boyvile]

@eatpanic

[boyvile]

EATPANIC     /     S.    STILINSKI.

@teendisgust

“   so you know how some people have resting bitch face?  ”     you begin casually,     with a red pen cap between your teeth and piercingly observant gaze fixed on the other boy.   papers and books lay unattended and scattered around you from your spot on the floor;    clearly,     any hopes of actually finishing some work were tossed away as soon as that stare started wandering.

you’re a curious,    prying boy,    with an impulsive kick to your pulse.   no wonder you made it a point to stubbornly squirm your way into a darkness you should’ve run from as soon as you cracked open that first stolen case file.

             “   ——– yeah,   you have resting murder face.   has anyone ever told you that?   ”  

and no wonder you poke it,    too. 

EVERYTHING YOU SEE IS RED.          you see    him,     and you see red.          you see red like anger,     red like get the fuck out of my business,     red like a thick spout of    crimson    when you imagine plunging one of seven number two pencils into his throat and pulling it out.          red like blood splattering the wall,     like inkblot therapy.          (          i’m not fucking crazy i’m not fucking crazy  !          )          he looks at you and sees    human,     you look at yourself and see    demon,     see vile,     see rotten.

you haven’t figured him out.          what he wants from you,     what he wants from your     house.          you suspect he isn’t looking for    camaraderie    because you’re    you,     and he’s the sheriff’s son.          your grip tightens around the pencil and the wood almost splinters.          resting    murder    face  ?          

❛          put it on a t  -  shirt.           resting murder face.          i’m sure you’d make a profit.          ❜

[boyvile]

GIRLVILE     /     ROTTING GIRL.

THE  SLAP  OF  RED    !        it feels clean,      feels      present.       feels like love.       love is supposed to hurt.       (       supposed to hurt,      supposed to bleed,      that’s what happens,      shit,      gracie,      don’t be such a baby,      fuck    !       stop crying,      stop crying stop crying stop       )

he loves you,      he does.       it’s supposed to hurt.       you shrug,      here - there - wherever,      and keep your shoulder against his chest while you      finish that.       watch the cherry,      don’t press it to your wrist.

‘        i’m finished.        ’        bad taste in your mouth.       ash.      not clean.        you look up at him,       suddenly focused.        ‘        show me what    ?        ’

ANOTHER TOY.          something sharp,     something lethal.          something you’ll hold against her     throat,     drag from collarbone to navel,     watch the skin give.          something that,     by the time you walk the distance from the high school campus to the parking lot,     you    ache    to touch.          (          keep those hands   busy   for me,     boy  !          )

you’re comfortable in the driver’s seat,     door ajar,     one leg hanging out as you reach into the middle compartment and pull out the    newest addition    to your collection     ––     a vintage butterfly knife,     cleaned and polished and flipped open with    quick    wristwork.          you look at the steel and how it shines,     imagine driving it into her carotid.          imagine the spill of    blood    onto the pavement.          (          intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts get out get out get out of my head  !          )          blink,     look to her.          ❛          you said you wanted to    go    somewhere tonight,     right  ?          ❜

[boyvile]

‘ do you trust me enough? do you trust me at all? ’

TRUST IS FOREIGN.          believing someone and trusting them are two separate things and you need to consider    this    before you consider an answer.          you believe your mother when she tells you she’ll call but you don’t     trust her    not to call at the last minute.          (          are you okay,     thatcher,     are you okay are you okay are you okay  ?          )          it’s the same principle.          so,     do you trust her enough  ?          do you trust her at all  ?

you trusted her enough to    kill    with her    ––    you trusted her enough to put the axe in her hand,     enough to show her the one hit  -  kill.          build the momentum,     gracie,     your    speed and power    is in the wristwork.          you kissed her with blood on her mouth and the    mangled    corpse of a man at your feet,     fucked her raw on the blood  -  soaked carpet and pulled a piece of intestine out from the    rat’s nest    of a ponytail afterward.          she laughed.          she laughed and she laughed and she laughed but she isn’t laughing now,     she isn’t laughing    and neither are you.

this    bothers    her and you can see her weight shifting from foot to foot,     the nervous wring of her hands.          you don’t care to appease her.          you don’t care,     you don’t care,     you don’t care.          you’re a hollowed out corpse and you think you lost the capacity to    feel    twelve years ago when a man of righteousness bent you over at the waist and made you call out to god          (           help me me help me help me god please help me are you listening  ?          )

you trust her.          you trust her like you trust a loaded    gun.          you bite your tongue until you taste iron,     taste blood.          it doesn’t hurt.          it doesn’t hurt it doesn’t hurt it doesn’t hurt.          gracie is watching you and she expects you to say    something    but your tongue feels dry and heavy and it throbs.          you kiss her bloody instead.          you kiss her bloody and you don’t stop.

do you trust me at all  ?          yes,     yes,     yes.

MEME     /    @girlvile

[boyvile]

CRUELETY     /     ROTTING BOY.

THEY SAY IF YOU’RE CAPABLE OF GUILT,   YOU’RE CAPABLE OF REDEMPTION.    but what does it mean when your remorse is slipping further and further away,   soon to be beyond your reach?   maggots have been eating at your heart for years now;   every day,   there remains less and less,   leaving you empty.   leaving you heartless.   you can see all of that in him,    but he’s already there.    (    how is it that a boy so much younger reached this point before you?   )     

“    is that your blood?    ”     you don’t care if the answer is no,    not when your own shirt is speckled with the dried ichor of your own victim     ——     a man too pathetic to be missed.    /      @teendisgust

IS THAT YOUR BLOOD  ?          answer me,     boy.           have you gotten too careless  ?          you’re rotten,     boy,      you’re rotten  !          clean up after yourself,     wash those    filthy    hands and repent.          don’t you still talk to god  ?          you’ve been    caught,     caught,     caught     ––     caught red  -  handed  !          and it’s all    her    fault,     isn’t it  ?          the dirty little whore,     dirty little whore couldn’t keep her hands to herself.          now the blood is on     your hands.          

smear it across your cheek when you wipe your face with your sleeve,     show that the skin beneath hasn’t split.          is that your blood,     is that your blood,     is that your blood  ?

no.          ❛          how bad do you wanna    find out  ?          ❜          dangle the keyring from your index finger,     keep    watching,      waiting,     anticipating him to crawl out of his skin.          he won’t.          (          he won’t,     he won’t,     he won’t.          )          room twenty  -  seven;     you    bait him    with room twenty - seven.

[boyvile]

GIRLVILE     /      ROTTING GIRL.

HIS  IS  A  WEIGHT        you don’t mind,      the way he presses and pulls and      holds     like that’s the only place you’re supposed to fit.       (       like he fits between your thighs,      like his fingers fit around your neck,      like      poison      comes out sweeter than spun sugar when your mouth opens for him.       )

‘        now it’s      sixteen.        ’        and by the time you get to his car      —      fourteen,      maybe    ?       maybe a little less.       you squirm against him,      turn your head to the side to exhale smoke,      your hand dropping down to coast a palm over the rise in his jeans.       contemplative.      you consider the odds.      consider you still have to sneak a shower.       consider    :    you were nothing before you met him.        ‘        bet i can do it in ten.       you’re halfway there.        ’

SHE WEARS THEM LIKE A PRIZE,          the marks around her neck    ––    you notice this more when there’s something substantial there,     like the slap of red from your     leather belt     and the imprint of the     buckle.          she begs and she begs          (          choke me,     choke me,     choke me  !          )          and you oblige.          fervently,          without hesitation,      you oblige.

the girl is a toy,     a pretty little    doll    that bends to your will.          she cups you in her hand and you feel the flutter of your pulse,     you feel the swell of desire,      you feel you feel you feel.          but she still smells of citrus and fucking    coconut    and so you push her hand away,     disinterested.          ❛          forget it.          finish that and let’s go.          i have something i wanna show you.          ❜          you’ll take care of it,     or maybe you’ll change your mind and take    her    later.