“There are ways of dying that don’t end in funerals. Types of death you can’t smell.”
Haruki Murakami, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman. (via mercurieux)

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@divhour
“There are ways of dying that don’t end in funerals. Types of death you can’t smell.”
Haruki Murakami, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman. (via mercurieux)
today, for sunday ... a fun hc ... alek hates being touched Thank You
Anakreon, tr. by Willis Barnstone, from Greek Lyric Poetry; “Cicada,”
i made a baby u guys should like this for a follow xx
this grotesque form is not his ; last she saw , he had dressed himself in light & form . now he is a thing burdened , chained ( where did this rage come from ? where will it go , when he is only bones ? sometimes he feels as if he is made from it , the fury ) . it has been ages since he has seen her face , but he still feels it like a constrictor around his chest -- the pain , the fear , now too the loathing , or something in the shape of it .
his eyes gleam ruby in the light . he wipes scarlet from his chin , fingers pried barely willingly from flesh . the human hits the ground with a thud , but their thrumming hare heartbeat hangs on just enough to be alive . a halo , lost . his teeth are terribly white under the glare . the hunger claws , still , at his ribcage : she will sate , won’t she ?
his fingers curl into fists . ‘ miriam . ‘
@maripsa , a feral boy
alek is simultaneously loyal 2 the death and also impossible 2 read, no matter how much u mean to him or how close u are to him ....... like yah he may die for u but u wanna know his real name? get fucked
absolutely fucked but i just found out if u write starters & people reply to them, U then have to reply to THEM ... crazy .... .. .
EYES GONE VOID , gleaming like the sheen of dark blood ; he tips his head away , so she can’t catch that telling shine ! ---------- what is shame , but a throat bared ? vulnerability is a thing to be tucked into crooks of elbow and behind teeth , like the secrets they have become masters of . a corpse to be buried , unmarked . even for her , he will not grave dig without reason . ‘ what else do you need , lady faust ? ‘
@faustyne , a feral boy
i am once again asking you to Let Alek Bite U
haha what if.. i wrote feral alek? 😳
i made a baby u guys should like this for a follow xx
maiddend·:
“ i was turned in —— oh , it’s been some time now —— 1601 ? ” pale fingers grasp at each other , trying to hide the nerves that threaten to surface —— she’d never met another like her before . “ erm , how long have you been like this ? ” / @divhour· .
strange , this : secrecy is in his blood , bound in the strings of fate that wind ‘round him . he does not give easily , nor surround himself with people that do . even age can tell more than he’s willing . ‘ i don’t remember . ‘ glacial - tipped voice , still as water and just as deceptive . it isn’t entirely a lie , anyway , and for that he saves himself another mark for damnation . ‘ counting seems pointless , after awhile . ‘
maripsa·:
SHE SLEEPS IN A HEAP OF CLIPPED WINGS, their ghosts fluttering above her head at night, beating against the glass, and weeping, to no avail, to be let in to the kingdom that had long since abandoned them. was she to be added to zima’s wretched collection ? his jar of dead butterflies ? no, she’d like to think herself an invasive species – more atropos moth than butterfly ; at a glance, winsome enough in her innocent face to pass for one, but behind her back she held death’s head like a mark of cain. what has been done to me, will fall upon you sevenfold.
SHE WIPES AWAY HER WEAKNESS, THEN, grateful for the dark seraph’s cruelty. it begs her to stay sharp, kindness only dulls the knife. ❛ i know the devil loves such blasphemy, but i’m afraid my pride is greater than his. i shouldn’t wish to die when neither he, nor god are deserving of me yet. ❜ however, the reality of his warning was a tug of her noose just the same, acknowledged and then ignored out of spite, out of necessity. ❛ but if he is as infallible as you say, then someone needs to stop him – – or die trying. and i’d sooner see goliath’s head on a platter than resign to anything else. ❜
seraphic twilight , a wound in the heart of scripture : where have you gone , holiest ? tucked away into your passages , a creature bathed in its own self - hatred . how long before life erodes away that devotion ? ( never : there is always another god with teeth & jaw waiting to swallow him whole ) . the nature of divinity . he’s meant for a life on his knees .
( yet : still a wolf , under that white gleam of moonlight , when it catches on the sharp curve of his cheek and the golden hair curled at the nape of his neck . wolves don’t speak in scripture . they speak in violence . and what is he , if not wolven ? )
--------------- holy , unholy . it doesn’t matter any longer .
her proclamation meets stony silence ; an awful thing , steeped in the blood of it all . there’s no give to that wretched weight of him . ‘ what is your plan ? run a knife through his heart ? poison ? fire ? it would not work . ‘ his fingers curl : in them , he is imagining flesh & bone & sinew , vicious things that sit at the base of his throat . a rot , at the core ! things he begs forgiveness for at twilight . forgiveness , because damnation will not change his course . ‘ dismemberment , maybe ? have you ever hacked a body to pieces ? you would have to be careful . thorough . if you make one mistake , it would only take a single thrall to put him back to rights . and he’d come for you . ‘
he leans forward . forearms to knees , eyes bright and blue and terrible in the darkness . ‘ and even if you were successful , that blood would never wash out . his skin beneath your nails . his screams in your head . will you carve his head off , yourself ? dripping gore and sinew , so you can plate it up ? ‘ it’s a strange , hypnotic poetry , a sweetness to his words that belies their saying . oh , this is the darkness , that righteous , awful cruelty of angels descended from the heavens . it weaves around his hands . ‘ how deep is your hunger really ? ‘
( his is boundless )
we should just all make promos with word art & clip art
ACT ONE : what are you doing about that hole in your head ? darling , you look best in a grave . / vampire oc , by ashy
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