the shape of a girl, joan macleod

Product Placement
will byers stan first human second

@theartofmadeline

shark vs the universe
Jules of Nature
ojovivo
Show & Tell

izzy's playlists!
Monterey Bay Aquarium

blake kathryn

JBB: An Artblog!

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Not today Justin

No title available
$LAYYYTER
Cosmic Funnies
art blog(derogatory)

#extradirty
Xuebing Du

JVL
seen from United States

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Brazil
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from France

seen from Malaysia

seen from Russia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Norway

seen from Bangladesh
@fracturedportrait
the shape of a girl, joan macleod
“How can it be that my memories are more alive than I am?”
buriedcanvas
Before she could move—before she saw it move—Barbara was on her back. Pinned on her back. Pain crunched between her shoulders; at the base of her hips. She groaned.
And nails—claws—scrabbling at the floor, her hair, her— “Ah!” She grabbed a handful of the creature’s hair, pulled back its head, but fire blazed across her belly: a spreading gash of red blooming across the front of her shirt, lurid under the electric lights. And the groan twisted in her chest, became panting, a whimper, a sob—“Val. No. Val, no. Don’t. Don’t do this, pl—d—d—”
She pushed, pushed, but the creature was made from bone, from rock. Knees bruising her thighs, fist clenched around her arm. Immovable. Impossible strength—a raw and supernatural power, like… like Diana. Except, not. Not at all. Cold, a cold, cold strength. Clinical. Malevolent.
NO, it whispered. Not Val at all. Something else. Something else. And that thing, thing, looked down at her and lifted a red nail to its mouth.
Barbara felt the lurching response in her own chest, a sweeping wave, as if of nausea—as if her heart was being dragged through her ribs. She opened her mouth again; a shallow, shuddering cry. But she couldn’t… move, she couldn’t do anything. Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes; she couldn’t even turn her head.
The covers stirred on the bed. A low, sleepy voice. “Barbara?”
It was the moment of distraction she needed. She pushed the gun against the creature’s chest. For a second, she looked it in the eye.
“Don’t, Val. Don’t make me do this.”
She could feel her stomach, slippery with blood. Could feel how it coated that creature’s body as it slid against her, its head hanging over her like a guillotine. Could feel the sense bleeding out of her head.
“I’ll do it. I will. I’ll…”
Her vision fogged. She pressed the gun closer against that spindly breastbone.
“Don’t you realise we care about you?” Blood flecked her lips as she craned her head up, up, towards that ghastly face. “Whatever you are, whatever you think you are, we… I…”
Almost accidentally, her lips touched that cold mouth. Her finger trembled on the trigger.
The air in the small room was thick with emotions that were nauseatingly .... HUMAN. The pleading, the crying, the begging — it filled the space with a uniquely human stink that made the monster gag and churched the ichor in its stomach. This woman, in what was surely her final moments, squirming in a pool of her own blood - was asking for … mercy. She was trying to appeal to someone who … did … not … e x i s t.
“ NO — “ was a horrible thing, that word. Raw and bleeding as it fell from gruesome lips. It dripped down the curve of its gore coated chin as a refusal to all that this woman, half formed in the electric blue darkness, was begging for. The monster hummed with the power of that word — two letters, one syllable, it vibrated against dry lips as the woman twisted against its body, as fingers tangled hopelessly in dirty ropes of hair. Wounds wept as fangs caught the cold light of the screens and a pulse caught the beat of a machine suddenly whirring back to life. The creature laughed as human tears fell and black coated talons lifted into the air, casting long, horrible shadows against the fabric that covered the windows, the image warping as the air suddenly shifted in the room, as a great, golden breath filled lungs, as words whispered from between parted lips —
It’s attention snapped like a dry bone, brittle and disoriented eyes strained upwards towards the bed, towards that voice, that heart beat, that opportunity for REDEMPTION —
But then there was that other thing - that other problem squirming between the hold of its thighs in a widening pool of her own blood. She THREATENED in a language that was the mewling cries of a creature stuck in a trap.
Dark eyes dropped at the cool touch of metal, almost impressed at the threat made real. It pushed itself closer to the muzzle of the weapon, to the kiss of metal that was warmer than its own skin. Motion coiled in arms and legs as one taloned hand pressed itself into the floor and its entire body hunched lower, pushing its body closer to the weapon, more tightly against the warm, blood covered body of the prey that was still speaking, still pleading to a dead woman. The creature’s entire being was vibrating as it prepared to move, to leap towards promise of what was to come, ready dive into the semi - darkness of the room, to find victory, when — lips touched and --- the jarring connection, however brief was ... soft and warm and —— FAMILIAR.
The gasp that fell from between gore covered lips was almost - HUMAN. The monster collapsed against the other woman as locked elbows quivered and the grip of stone like thighs went weak, its control wavering for a split second - just long enough for another word to form, white hot and desperate, it strained again unused vocal chords as they clenched against the mutiny — “ Barbara —— ” dark sclera cleared then if only for a moment in the semi - darkness to a blur of white and the desperate gleam of aubergine — she made eye contact, she saw the terror, the blood - the mistakes made that she had made and cried out in one strangled, stifling sob --
And as quickly as it had come, that moment of clarity, that window out into the carnage of her reality --- it was GONE. Val or whatever was left of her, was replaced by a howling face and a blur of white limbs and blood darkened hands, all disgust and rage.
As it attempted to regain control of its body, the creature tangled itself as in its prey. It was a panicked, an animal caught in a TRAP of its own making, as it tried to free itself -- the monster slipped in the combination of blood and floor polish - the motion almost ... pitifully ... human. Jaws snapped in frustration as talons ripped into flesh and fabric, leaving long gashes in the tiled floor as it refocused its dark eyes towards the bed --- on the body that laid there - only half aware of what was happening.
The creature stumbled over its prey as it tried to control its arms and legs, forcing down that last strangled cry of that insurgent other, murderous purpose focusing its flailing attempts to stand, to FINISH what it had come here to do. Barely finding its feet, the monster cried out as another word cut through its consciousness -- a reminder. ‘ Failure ’ muttered in that low, familiar tone ran through its bones and collided against the tender insides of its mind, the monster cried out painfully as it launched itself from the floor --- sprang towards the bed ----- ‘ failure ... must be ... punished ---- ’
PLEASE KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS 100000% VALTURZE THANK YOU.
‘ what’s a little agony and mortal injury here and there ? ’ NO I CAN HEAR MIN SAYING THIS PERFECTLY IN MY HEAD AHHHHHHHHHH
The depth of her frown looks as as if it might leave PERMANENT fracture between her dark furrowed brows. For a moment, Val does not move, emotions passing over her pale features like shadows -- annoyance, frustration, what was almost amusement at the attempt at a joke. But behind those trivial, fleeting glimpses there was something deeper, shades dark and troubling shades of worry and --- fear.
Carefully, Val lowered herself onto the sofa beside Minerva and tucked herself gently against the curve of her body -- one pale hand sliding against her open palm, brows still furrowed while her eyes kept themselves downcast, watching the intertwining of fingers. A slow, hesitant SMILE rising to red lips --
" .... you are no where near as FUNNY as you think you are ... " the smile remained before catching on something else, fading slowly as the words formed themselves on those same lips - " You ... you scared me today, Minerva ... "
𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 ’ 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 / 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 / @ofmalice
‘ the real story isn’t half as pretty as the one you’ve heard. ’ from witcher zel (i accidentally submitted the first one fjfk)
Dark brows rose slowly as a cautious, CURIOUS smile pulled across crimson lips. For a moment, the vampire did not speak, instead - allowing a potent silence to blossom between them, Val tilted her pale chin as words fell carefully from between those same red lips.
" You are lucky then. I find PRETTY stories ... the most tiresome, " her smile shifted, sharpened as aubergine eyes did the same, " Would you tell me the truth of it ? GORE and all ? "
' 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 ' 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 / 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 / @suresaint
“I want it back, I want it back / What was taken from me, I want it back.”
— Chelsea Wolfe, from Hisspun; “Two Spirit,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.
↬ SPINNING SILVER ( 2018 ) by naomi novik.
sentences taken from the novel dialogue & narration.
+ feel free to change pronouns !
‘ the real story isn’t half as pretty as the one you’ve heard. ’
‘ winter was always long and bitter, and every year was worse than the one before. ’
‘ this cold will break soon. it’s been so long already. ’
‘ there’s always trouble where there’s money owed, sooner or later. ’
‘ you can’t get blood from a stone. ’
‘ i was colder inside than out. ’
‘ i’d just been having a dream, and it was already fading. ’
‘ you can’t go in this weather. you’ll wait until it stops. ’
‘ will you give them your gold ? ’
‘ you aren’t just a pretty face ! ’
‘ my manners do not need improving. ’
‘ three days you may have, this time, before i come to have my own back again. ’
‘ if you manage it, i will make you my queen. ’
‘ we’ll leave. we’ll go somewhere else far away. ’
‘ why must you ask for impossibilities ! ’
‘ why are you staring so ? ’
‘ it’s not witchcraft. ’
‘ you’ve already killed them. why can’t you leave them alone ? ’
‘ it’s not mine ! i have to pay it back. ’
‘ my hand and crown you shall win if you succeed. ’
‘ now go home, mortal maiden. ’
‘ you can tell him i’ve gone to be married to a rich man. ’
‘ think not to escape from me. i will come for you, wherever you’ve fled. ’
‘ did you think mortal roads could run away from me, or mortal walls keep me out ? ’
‘ you must know i have no magic, not really. ’
‘ a power claimed and challenged and thrice carried out is true. ’
‘ there’s worse things in life than to be a queen. ’
‘ that’s not nothing, to be able to hold your head up. ’
‘ my name ? you think to have my name ? ’
‘ there is indeed something most unusual in her. ’
‘ i will come for you soon. ’
‘ of course i was going to poison you ! ’
‘ what if i want to stay forever ? ’
‘ is this why you wanted her ? she’s a witch ? ’
‘ you have one question more. ’
‘ where do squirrels run to, when they want to hide ? ’
‘ my pleasure would last only until they stabbed me right alongside you. ’
‘ you’re no worse off than you are now, if i’m lying. ’
‘ it seems you must ask my aid, and hope that i don’t refuse it. ’
‘ it is snowing again. ’
‘ you shouldn’t even try to make bargains with such a creature. ’
‘ do you really think i wanted to marry you ? ’
‘ high magic never comes without a price. ’
‘ at least your hair is handsome. ’
’ i am not covering anything ! ’
‘ my court is full of fools. no one here is loyal five minutes past their own interest. ’
‘ he has locked them away beneath the snow. ’
‘ don’t just bleat whatever it is you think i want to hear. ’
‘ have you anything else to wear ? ’
‘ you hold my chains, but i owe you no surrender. ’
‘ what’s a little agony and mortal injury here and there ? ’
‘ very well. free me, and i will promise. ’
‘ at least weep for me once, and give me a measure of pain. ’
‘ whatever it is, i will venture it, if you will give me hope. ’
I want to get back to writing Val so this is just out of curiosity ... like this if you are interested in writing with her once I jump start this blog back to life !
2.03 - The Nightmare Begins
I THOUGHT I WAS LOCKED OUT OF THIS ACCOUNT BUT I AM BACK BABY !
“ you know - i’d make a lot of CHANGES around here — ” ⚔ drinking since nov. ‘17
buriedcanvas
And then, a click. Short, metallic. A slithering, treacherous sound: the closing jaws of a trap.
But Diana hadn’t moved—she was there, on the bed, pale and helpless and unconscious, her throat faintly pulsing, the stubborn thread of her life marching on. And if it wasn’t Diana—
“ Don’t move, ” said Barbara Ann.
Her arm trembled, but she held it straight. The gun barrel glinted, cold. Trained between the eyes. “ Silver bullets, ” she said, and she tilted her head a little to the side, the better to hold the creature’s eyes. “ They’ll kill you. Won’t they? ”
Barbara pushed herself out of her chair, the chair where she’d been sitting without moving since sunset, every sunset since she’d sent the answerphone message. She stood, a little shaky on her feet, and met that terrible gaze.
A monster gazed back at her. The pupils stretched across each eye, turning them deep and black—a shark’s eyes. Barbara trembled. Her insides turned to water, and she… she laughed.
“ What? Do you think I didn’t… do my research? Please. I read up on every—every scrap of vampire folklore I could get hold of the second I got home after meeting you. Oh yeah, I studied. I studied hard. ” She hesitated, and it came out frail, a half whisper— “ I know what they did to you. ”
She took a step closer. Was it audible? How her heart was racing, racing in her breast, racing like prey…
“ I know this isn’t your fault. ”
And for the first time, she let herself look at her—really look at her. The tattered rags hanging from her body. The matted state of her hair. The gaunt set of her face, broken somehow. And her eyes… those pitiless black eyes.
“ I know you’d never want to hurt her. ”
The gun shook in her hand. Everything inside her told her to drop her eyes, to look away, to run away—
“ Val? Is it… is it even you? ”
The click sent a shudder of awareness down the creatures spine. The mechanical sound was not one of danger but instead that of ... ANNOYANCE. It was pulled, with clenched teeth - away from its moment of triumphant reverie to focus once more on an inconvenience, a mortal problem that thought something as simple as a weapon would slow the inevitable.
For a moment, the monster did not move. It remained still, claw like hands pressing cracks into the plastic foot of the bed, but its lips remained parted, its head gently titled back as the mortal spoke. Her words filled the room but it was the rattling echo of its laugh that filled the space between trembling MORTAL threats. The monster shifted so it could see her properly, hands pulling themselves from the bed, leaving bloodied, mangled prints behind in the plastic - lips still parted, teeth still a dark, dripping crimson.
If some hidden part of the creature recognized the trembling mortal in the blue tinged light of the hospital room —— she was buried too deep to manage any sign of recognition. Blown out eyes, filled corner to corner with obsidian, looked at the woman but they did not SEE her. She spoke but its keen sense of sound was else where. It focused instead on ... the fear that threaded through her words, the pounding of her pulse, the promise of the blood that rushed through her veins. And then there was her scent - the heavy musk of fear cut easily through the sting of the hospital sterilization, the scent drawing out the length of its fangs. For all her bravado and hollow threats the truth was clear to the monster. This woman was ... exhausted and terrified, weak and unsteady. She was … easy prey.
The decision was made before the woman had finished speaking, a resolve that started in the aching dryness of its throat and ended in the twisting of its body and the half a step that launched the creature towards it prey —— claws catching fabric and flesh, FANGS flashing in the semi - darkness. There was no thought towards the weapon — even when there was a scent of danger, a hum in the silver that meant pain. The monster was too high on the promise of triumph and the swell of still fresh ichor ( - and the promise of more ) to change its course once it had set its own body in motion.
Its form — all skin and bones and POWER - collided with the mortal with a cry that rattled the medical instruments in their plastic cases. The concept of stealth was a lost cause now that is hunger had been awakened and its anger — at being not only interrupted but denied such an easy victory — proliferated within its one track mind - unchecked … teeth and claws tore at the linoleum floor, at strands of matted blonde hair and then caught —— on flesh.
The monster laughed an ugly, strangled sound as one long talon caught along the woman’s stomach and pressed deep into pale exposed skin. Blood, a deep and dark shade of crimson sprang up from the deepening gash and coated the monsters extended nail in a warm, almost black coating. Power hummed through the creature as it kept the woman pinned against the cold floor and an idea took root — a PROMISE of what could be. It was then that the single word fell from the foul maw, a grunt that was the response to a question that had been asked —
“ NO. ”
Lips remained parted, formed and ugly around the simple sound, as they hovered over the contorted and struggling face of its victim, and fangs — although long and READY remained away from flesh. The monster remained in her line of sight, with one hand around her bicep and exposed, bony knees pressing hard into thighs, as one blood soaked talon slipped between cracked lips, which then sealed around the digit and … sucked.
The taste was both an appetizer and … a distant WARNING. That hidden, shackled part of the creature cried out as the taste of the blood awakened her and brought a power to stir within the pair set of consciousnesses. The monster rolled back so that knees pressed into the sticky floor instead of flesh. The power was there - the connection TENUOUS but clear. It ran through the blood that they now shared - in veins and across tastebuds. There was more to taste, more to drink but first … there was a command. It did not come from lips and was not said in words but it was a physical order — an urge that was transmitted between them as the taste of fear danced over the monsters smiling fangs ——
' STOP. '