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Janaina Medeiros
we're not kids anymore.
Game of Thrones Daily
art blog(derogatory)
hello vonnie
One Nice Bug Per Day
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

pixel skylines
Peter Solarz
DEAR READER
Stranger Things
$LAYYYTER

@theartofmadeline

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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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@delbeugre
When those red backlights fade, the whole world shifts into the unreality of a child’s diorama... A shiny glass terrarium wide enough to hold trillions and trillions of water droplets disguised as stars, of which she and her unlucky friend are caught in the middle of. But it’s almost hysterical, it almost makes her smile, the corners of her lips upturning because of how bitter misfortune can be. Only hours prior, like a pair of plastic dolls, Sadie and Delilah were perched atop cracked barstools. There was no distinct conversation, a silver flask passed between fingers flicking the cap open and shut. Everything around them smelt of sweat and leather. It’s simple, the line is set up for anyone to take the bait, Venus flytraps preparing to be fed — and a few observant suitors surely do swarm like fat flies on the brink of death. After all, they’re only alive enough to fuck and eat.
Sadie reflects on it with an arm slung around her waist, pinching the fabric of her dress between her fingers. The other palm is placed on her forehead in a pose most dramatic, a strange trembling taking over her wrists. The recollection is fuzzy, anger radiating from her cheeks as warmth, stark contrast to the frigid, sunken feeling settling at her feet. Soon enough, her ribs feel like they’re on the outside of her skin, body wreathing inside of itself as fury rises from her legs... A curt decision is made that it’d be best to light up. Her knuckles vanish into her locks and retrieve a spare roach from behind her ear. The flame of her lighter nearly gobbles it whole. She sucks at the poor thing with desperation. For a moment there, the offer didn’t seem like it would unravel into anything more than what it was on the surface — grisly old cowmen suggesting two girls should see all they could possibly see of the flora and fauna. The world makes you feel afraid of things, her uncle once said. It makes you afraid. And with piqued interest, Sadie accepts without considering a man’s (general) slime-ball intentions for more than a second. Afraid. She wasn’t, not with her hands lifted high above her head to grasp at the strings of the breeze while mounted on the seat of a motorcycle, not with her head tipped back as if to take a shot of the night sky. Then, the thrill is cut short, and they’re parked with a screeching halt. The purr of twin bikes still ring in her ears.
We never said the rides were free.
The cards had been reversed, or perhaps they always were. Without waiting a beat, their company crudely allude to what they desire in return for a few fleeting ticks of excitement. Temper aside, she isn’t afraid now. She’s just eager to keep on moving. After brushing their eyes off like ants climbing up her knees, her mouth tugs into a tiny snarl. “Piss off,” Del spits. “Piss off, piss off, piss off,” it really is that simple, too, because her voice only gets louder and her shoulders broaden, tightening at the blades. Both geezers throw in the towel after less than a minute of her monotonous droning. “Piss. Off.”
So, here they sit, stranded and alone, glued to the stump of a Saguaro cactus like it’s Mother Nature’s bus stop. That roach can’t cough up a breath more, and it’s tossed and smushed with the toe of her boot. “So, Lilah,” she murmurs, voice rasped. “I think we give the ghosts a run for their money.” @delilahastor
SADIE BEUGRE / SILVER SPUR RANCH.
The sun beats against her shoulders, the last hours of heat sinking deep into her skin. Sadie's only ever admired the desert from glossy pictures in educational magazines... It's just as beautiful as she'd expected, but also astonishingly desolate. Everyone and everything is washed in vermillion as dusk settles along the horizon, and she notes to herself that the air around here is dry. Empty. Her lungs can't seem to get enough in one breath. Knelt down, coarse sand whips the back of her thighs. She's cupping a small, withering rat in her palms, his long hind legs kicking away as she observes. Those big, watery eyes stare right back, a careful thumb nudging under its jaw to really look at the creature. "You're far from home," and in that she finds comfort, because it hasn't been an easy day. She, too, feels small and vulnerable. She, too, feels far from what she knows. Privacy. Sadie is not fond of such close quarters with so many strangers. Not all of them are strangers, of course, but all of them are strange to live with... It feels intrusive. Her conscious has decided to meander around, step out of social circles for the night to admire the creeping death of daylight. To an outsider, her hunched figure might look like a wild thing — you'd half expect her eyes to shine if you pointed your flashlight in her direction. She's done up in alligator skin boots and a thin, white dress torn to shreds and put back together with an absurd amount of safety pins. Her hair falls like a mane framing her face, and when her head snaps around to catch approaching footsteps in their tracks, it is elegantly disheveled. A few stray strands are blown from sticking to her eyelashes. "You scared me. Tired of mingling?" @hcllenic
lifeinpoetry:
You think because I am a woman, I cannot call myself a dog?
Look at my sweet canine mind, my long, black tongue. I know
what I’m doing.
— Analicia Sotelo, from “Bitch Instinct,” published in Poem-a-Day
Have you seen SADIE BEUGRE? DEL is in HER/THEIR SENIOR year. The MATHEMATICS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE/THEY are GRITTY, BEWITCHING, RETICENT and WASPISH. Rumors say they’re a member of HASTINGS. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE BIT AN EX-BOYFRIEND’S PINKY FINGER OFF AFTER SHE FOUND OUT HE CHEATED, AND THEN HAPPILY SERVED TIME FOR IT.
im tommy im a freak and of course i am here to get freakalicious with u all... this is my newest frankenstein type creation named sadie i know .02% about her yet but i am more than confident she will b nothing but a fun time! like this if ur down to plot!
TW: VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF JAIL/PROSECUTION, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DRUG USE
universitylibraries:
Tell me where it hurts, she'd say. Stop howling. Just calm down and show me where. But some people can't tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't ever stop howling.
The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood