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oozey mess
Janaina Medeiros
#extradirty
One Nice Bug Per Day
hello vonnie
Origami Around
KIROKAZE
Keni
art blog(derogatory)
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Xuebing Du
Andulka
Discoholic 🪩
★
AnasAbdin
ojovivo
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
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@bravemarks
( 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ! ) it’s possible. i kill a lot of people. who was this love of yours?
#𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 : ind. WESTLEY of THE PRINCESS BRIDE. as cherished by ray. 18+ only. 23, he / they. film + book influences. THIS BLOG IS EXTREMELY LOW - ACTIVITY. CARRD .
𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐁𝐎𝐘. 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓. with eyes like the sea after a storm.
The Princess Bride (1987), dir. Rob Reiner
lovehurried.
“My God, with the one track mind.”
‘ oh, come off it, ’ westley dismisses, waving the joke aside. even still, the grin on his face doesn’t dissipate, doesn’t falter for even a moment. ‘ if you’d met her you’d be just the same. ’
lovehurried.
“You know, I’ve rather come to like you in black.”
‘ just as i’ve come to notice red is an especially lovely color on you. ’ a pause, quickly followed by a smile. ‘ though i’d argue a white gown would be even more suitable. ’
… CHARLIE TOWNES AND THE NEW HEADLINE : she had spilled ink across the back of her hand a day or two ago, the black mark still growing out against her skin ( the scent of it seemed to stick to her wherever she went, newspaper skin and ink stained words across her body : can you smell the hunger wafting off her, westley? does it scare you or bore you? ). ‘ any statement from a survivor is useful for boosting sales. trust me, i know this jigsaw shit, it’s like clockwork … sorry, i know that’s dismissive : this stuff isn’t my usual beat. i’m a big fan of the unsolved and this case always looks a little too close to being cracked open, a new killer emerging every two seconds. what i’m saying is, i wouldn’t come to you if i weren’t desperate. ’ her smile slips from honey - subtle to timid, the daisy - headed girl crushed beneath a rough boot. ‘ do you want to go get a coffee? ’
lips twitch into a somewhat sarcastic smile. westley laughs, hollow, short. sarcastic. ‘ well, then. i’m glad to add to your supply of sound bytes. might i suggest you repurpose someone else’s quote in my stead, then? ’ there’s no real venom behind his words, curiosity still overwhelming, despite his better judgement. ‘ i appreciate the transparency … so long as you keep your questions direct, i’ll speak with you. ’ an offer is extended, and westley’s hands find his pockets, and safely buried inside, thumb brushes over the inside of his ring finger — cool metal once again his grounding force, his princess’ presence reminding him just why he remains civil than curt. ‘ alright ; so long as i’m able to bring something back for my wife. ’ after all, he’d much rather be with buttercup than charlotte … know this, ms. townes. this is the only kindness being extended to you.
@cutfoot : “ don’t look at me like that. ”
‘ like what? ’ the question is posed innocently, eyes wide, though clearly tired. the doctor’s touch, though previously masked as the grip of death, was tender, safe. a luxury that westley was beginning to believe he would never be afforded again. ( this isn’t kindness, the young man reminds himself. this isn’t kindness being afforded to a wounded soul — this is pity, this is tying up loose ends. he should be able to recognize such : he’s done more than enough during his stint as roberts. )
westley’s expression has softened, his body pliable in the doctor’s hands. he’s no stranger to pain, to suffering, to loss of blood or life. I CAN COPE WITH TORTURE, he’s argued once before, and this is, once more, far from a lie. he’s been [ mostly ] dead before. this was different. this was active pain, this was a reminder with each touch to his skin. being mostly dead is like being asleep. like existing in nothingness. here, though, westley is very much alive, no matter how much he should be dead.
‘ i wasn’t aware i was looking at you strangely ... if you’ll forgive me, there isn’t much else to look at. ’ far from a complaint. better this than whatever hellmouth he’d managed to tear himself free from. he’d rather be looking into the eyes of a princess — but another human is just as well. innocence is dropped just as quickly, sarcasm now staining each word from the victim’s lips : ‘ i can close my eyes if i’m making you uncomfortable. that’s the last thing i’d like to do. ’
"i need love" "i need a kiss" well i need money. and a sword. what about that
i will admit. maybe i also want a kiss.
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
winifrd.
“ your mouth is bleeding . ” / @bravemarks / * sc
‘ is it? ’ roberts speaks as though with the innocent curiosity of a child. gloved hand reaches up, fingers pressed to the corner of his lips. when he pulls back, sure enough — crimson liquid tacking up on leather. unfortunate. ‘ thank you for that — must have gotten nicked ... how bad does it look? ’
𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚢?
you’re exciting and adventurous. you have big dreams, and you're not hesitant to chase after them. when people spend time with you, they're also motivated to achieve their goals. it's easy to have a good time around you, because you're always up for a fun trip or event. you bring out the spontaneity in others- bringing adrenaline and excitement, you help create the most interesting memories. you want to live, truly live, and explore what is out there for you. sometimes, you might feel trapped, but know nothing is permanent. this will come to an end, and you will always have another chance. the people in your life want that for you, i promise.
tagged by: @futuresgirl tagging: @pursuesword , @lovehurried — for buttercup !! , @mermade , @rabbitsrun — for daniel !! , and anyone else who’d like !!
‘ princess. ’ westley may have his hand on his sword, though it is still sheathed — and will remain so, until he’s given a reason to draw. a half - bow is offered, clearly a show, one arm extended, the other firmly on his weapon, as he bends at the waist. a smile stretches across his face, friendly and warm, as if to best emphasize his cordial presence. ‘ i assure you, i mean no harm. i’m merely here as an escort. it’s a pleasure to meet you. ’ / @sylluna
@cutfoot : “ because i know something you don’t know. ”
in an instant, westley had ceased to exist. as quickly as the young man had been bled back into existence, he was dashed off the earth in a flash. buttercup had asked him to go. one night, when the young man had woken up in a flash. terror — not of his own memory, but the fear that the same fate may befall his princess. ( it wouldn’t ; she’s done no wrong, no sins stain her gentle hands. but dreams take on lives of their own, blossoming deep in the soul and entangling every open space they can grow to in his chest. they end with a start, with calloused hands reaching out to pull his love close, as if his broken body could be enough to shield her from the cruelties of the world. ) perhaps, she had reasoned, if westley could speak to others in such a similar state, he may be able to find some path to healing. ( buttercup could, would offer him the world, but she wouldn’t understand. and it pained him much more than she would ever know that he couldn’t just be — alright. for her. )
westley had entered the church begrudgingly, dropped off by buttercup — who had offered to join him, as moral support. ( moral support ! as if the entire premise for this isn’t moral support. no, he would sooner rush back into a test once again before he would allow her to listen to what he’d endured. what anyone else had endured. ) a chaste kiss, an i love you, i’ll be back soon, and a squeeze of his hand was all that westley was armed with before he entered. he didn’t wish to speak. and that was his right. he listened, his heart lurched, and the bile in the back of his throat built as he listened to — jigsaw? ( pathetic. ) — jigsaw’s crimes, first - hand accounts of them.
he’s content to rise and leave, the moment the final words are spoken. he considers it, too, knowing that buttercup must be outside, if not on her way back, ready to welcome him back in with open arms. an embrace to pull him away from this gnarled mess of sharp edges and torn wires, softness as a reprieve from his harsh fears. but something catches him about the leader of the group — a man with a limp, a delicate cane that draws westley’s eye. a weapon. roberts recognizes it immediately. he doesn’t know the face, and the voice had felt only vaguely familiar, but the sound that his cane made as he stepped across the tile floor was more than enough to shake westley to his core. wordplay has always been his strong suit, even as a mere marauder, though his fingers itch for a sword, a blade, anything to hold up against the cane that had held him to the ground, punishing him for what, surviving? it’s no difficulty at all to strike up a conversation.
‘ we’ve met. ’ it’s a question, posed as a firm statement. it is no longer the kind westley that speaks to this man, no longer a farmboy with a charming smile and warm heart. this man has, in one fell swoop, with a single statement, has revived the dread pirate from his shallow grave - death. venom colors his words, not too unlike the poisons that infected others’ blood. it is roberts that cocks a smile, a grin that doesn’t quite reach icy blues, but that squares his gaze directly at the man. ‘ i’m rather surprised you didn’t recognize me — doctor. ’
slashre·.
… cat, canary, little bird stuck between ancient teeth ( charlie townes writes a newspaper! the words shift against her skin, a girl rewritten in sweetened fonts, a new headline worn every week ). victim is her word of choice, though she’s sure men like westley prefer to don themselves in the attitude of a survivor … what’s the difference, anyway? the perception. charlie cuts eyes from little dolls and calls it a new perspective. ‘ it’s just one interview, dude. you decide what gets put in the paper. my last issue isn’t doing so well, and i’m … i’m new to all this, okay? i wouldn’t ask if i wasn’t desperate. ’ the truth wrapped up in a bow, even while it was half - obscured : desperation did not mean wanting. @bravemarks
westley’s grown tired of reporters. having crawled out of the tomb he was meant to rest in, a new life had awaited him — a life of warmth, comfort, a kind embrace to shield him from the raging rapids of the world he’s left behind. a princess guarding their castle, a love to guard him against a relapse, a return to the cold, heartless life that had once devoured him whole. the press wants to dredge this back up, force him to face his horrors head - on again, something he’d desperately been working against. if she expects him to soften against her pleas, she’s sorely mistaken. though he’s no longer the ruthless marauder he’d made a life as, pirate’s survival instincts still kick in : westley’s just as comfortable on the offense as the defense — but more importantly, he knows how to bide his time. ‘ i fail to see how any statement i could offer would help boost sales. ’ for a moment, he seems content to leave it at that, but westley’s curiosity gets the better of him : ‘ what do you want to know? ’
futuresgirl.
❛ oh, u-um — ❜ oh god. oh god. she’s going to die, isn’t she? she’s going to die by the hands of a real life fucking pirate ( ?! ) because the time travel gods hate her and they can’t just have one uneventful trip through time, can they? ( now that she thinks about it, uneventful and time travel probably aren’t concepts that go very well together, but they could at least be eventful in a fun way, couldn’t they?)
she’s not even sure where marty is. they’d gotten separated ( because of course they did ) while wandering through the nearby market, and while she thought she was heading the right direction on her way to try to find him, she clearly wasn’t — considering she’s currently staring down the end of a sword on the outskirts of the town with only half of an idea of how she even got here.
honestly, how was she supposed to know the dress she’d grabbed from their local costume shop on the way here was in the ship colours of one of this guy’s ( whoever he is ) enemy’s crews? that’s not exactly something they teach in the history books.
oh, shoot, he’s still waiting for an answer! quick, say something, jennifer!
❛ my name is, um — jennifer. and i’m not a spy or anything, i’m just … i’m lost. i swear. ❜
well, it’s not her best on-the-fly excuse, but maybe he’ll take pity on her.
@bravemarks
she’s terrified. it doesn’t take a masterful eye to tell that the girl is petrified, especially now, faced with her own mortality — a situation not unlike one he had found himself in a mere few years before. an unenviable circumstance, for certain, but one she had walked into herself. there was no hostile takeover, no attacks. this was one unfortunate trespasser upon a ship she would not be leaving. ( the dread pirate roberts was not known for taking captives, after all. couldn’t have someone thinking he’d gone soft, made an exception. )
now, it isn’t as if roberts is going to go around and slaughter any person he sees near his ship that isn’t part of his crew. what benefit would that provide him? even so, his sword is drawn, aimed directly at her neck. he’s known captains who only knew the crew members they deemed ‘essential’. just as well, he’s known captains who lowered themselves below their crew, essentially dissolving their own title, assimilating until they were no more recognizable than a mere boatswain. roberts, however, is far different from these men. he’s taken the time and care to know every member on his ship, to learn their names, faces, stories. ( it’s part of what makes him so beloved by his crew. )
‘ seems an awful convenient place to be lost, ’ he says, mask an invaluable tool in obscuring his expression. ( she’s young, not unlike he was when he’d first set foot upon the revenge. he almost feels sorry for her. almost. ) his hand remains steady, tip of sword a mere inch from her throat. one wrong move and she’d be pierced. he’d advise her not to make any sudden movements. ‘ and an equally convenient excuse. why should i believe you? ’
can you stop swimming near my ship you’re distracting my crew :/
❛ hm, ❜ she hums, tail swishing from side to side like a pendulum as she hangs off the edge of the ship, her chin resting against her arms. she cocks her head to the side as she flicks the edge of her fin against the surf, sending a spray of water directly onto the pirate’s pants, the fabric darkening and sticking to his legs in what looks to be a very uncomfortable way. ❛ nope, i’m good here. ❜
consider this a starter call. i have no idea what length i’m going to make these, so you might get one - liners, or you might get something like . . . idk , a few paragraphs or something. might be original ( i’ll try ! ) or might just end up being a quote from the film and / or book. i have no idea what i’m doing yet. ( feel free to specify what verse / era you’d like, if you want to !! )
starters / prompts taken from hieu minh nguyen’s work , not here . feel free to change pronouns / tenses as necessary .
❛ it seems important to mention all the things that went wrong ❜
❛ don’t ask if i’m a ghost ❜
❛ i fled and did not return ❜
❛ i cannot love you , if i love you , i will die ❜
❛ for years i chose death ❜
❛ i belong to my mother’s fear ❜
❛ what do you do with tenderness when all you expect is fury ? ❜
❛ he looks like he will keep you safe ❜
❛ any love i find will be treason ❜
❛ why did you bring me here ? ❜
❛ i count the hornets that escape their mouths ❜
❛ i only ask for your laughter ❜
❛ look at me in the old way in this new light ❜
❛ sometimes i wake up and my body does not follow ❜
❛ it wasn’t the same without you ❜
❛ i’m still trying to figure out what it means to stay ❜
❛ it’s all very predictable ❜
❛ how can i love something that isn’t ruined ? ❜
❛ like all agony , there are pleasant moments ❜
❛ i want to be better at lying ❜
❛ i’m afraid if i say it out loud i will cast a curse ❜
❛ some men don’t know they’re hungry until they eat ❜
❛ some spells take years to cast ❜
❛ there are rules you have to follow if you want to survive ❜
❛ i know you’re not supposed to smile back ❜
❛ madness , too , can be cumulative ❜
❛ trying to forget is not the same as leaving ❜
❛ i really should get a sense of humor ❜
❛ i understand no one ❜
❛ i cannot stop him from disappearing ❜
❛ her body was a dress i hung for motivation ❜
❛ you were once and perhaps continue to be the myth you tell to scare yourself ❜
❛ there are countless ways to justify company ❜
❛ you are predictable in your longing ❜
❛ i don’t want to explain a thing ❜
❛ i knew if i just asked him to leave he would have ❜
❛ there are countless ways to open a carcass ❜
❛ all i’ve ever wanted to be was useful ❜
❛ there’s still time to be saved ❜
❛ shut up ; i know the story , or at least the lesson ❜
❛ you wont find it ; you won’t find whatever you’re looking for ❜
❛ i could get away with being clumsy with knives ❜
❛ i want to study the mechanics of leaving ❜
❛ any adjective can be true if you cry hard enough ❜
❛ i see little futures in the distance but none belong ❜
❛ i am beginning to forget what i expect from the world i always knew ❜
❛ you can’t think of regret as a town you move too when grief snores too loud ❜
❛ in death we belong to everyone ❜
❛ i want to return to my old body ❜
❛ i think the life i want is the life i have , but how can i be sure ? ❜
