Claire Keane
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
🪼
blake kathryn
JVL
hello vonnie
Mike Driver
AnasAbdin
noise dept.
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Sade Olutola
Keni
One Nice Bug Per Day
Show & Tell
Monterey Bay Aquarium
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Andulka
DEAR READER
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Uruguay
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@geminvs-blog
@geminvs started following you
—— ◜Eeeey, it’s m’ main girl Julia! Welcome back buddy! Did y’ enjoy your trip?◞
❝ If you consider going home a trip, then NO. But seeing a familiar face is...nice. Missed me~? What a stupid question; OF COURSE you did. ❞
banks // drowning
“Like a toenail misses fungus. Absolutely not at all.”
❝ At least my hair isn’t stupid. ❞
❝ You missed me; I can tell. ❞
Julia Fernandez // Gemela blader
Hate to say I told you so.
Pic credits: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16
geminvs:
( COME ON, BABY; LET’S DO SOMETHING UGLY. )
BITCHSLAP
@baihujiazu-new
‘a moment of weakness’
( Moment of Weakness. | Accepting. | @blazingsourpuss3. Your muse is smashed drunk and incoherent. )
She knows what it’s like to lose control, to resort to substances, inanimate means of adoration, to achieve a sense of stability. And while she raises her nose at those who engage in the art of escaping, she can’t help but feel empathy for those so empty. She assumes he’s filling the space of former disgrace, the little holes in his heart that weren’t appeased by his exhausted efforts. He had tried so hard to be better, but like many deities, he too will descend from his throne and lay wings upon a mortal world, where feathers adopt filth for comfort. Truthfully, they were lucky to have found each other and for reasons she can’t explain, she accepted his broken body into arms that once avoided all. Why does she feel pity for this prince? All he’s ever done was batter her being with constant corrections. He won’t remember her kindness, but she bestows it regardless. Hands struggle to keep him collected. She allows his form to lean into her own physique. And while he whispers his woes into her ears, she never asks him to explain. These sermons make sense to him; at least he can find comfort in his own confessions. She leads him to a bench where they overlook cities and sins, and she keeps him close to keep him from slipping into the vices that further vex him. What are these nightmares that constantly nag him? What inspires him to seek refuge in spirits? It isn’t in her place to ask; after all, she’s engaged in uglier escapes. ❝ You’ll be okay. You’re always okay. ❞
‘a moment of weakness’
( Moment of Weakness. | Accepting. | @novaercg29. Your muse has blackmail over mine. )
Fear consumes her form; she had never felt herself quiver like this before another’s creation. And yet here he stands, so well collected and established, adorned with appeasement at her own ache. There’s a flicker of interest; the way a predator looks upon his prey, right before teeth sink into skin with every intent to tear through their triumphs and tranquility. He certainly doesn’t make her feel safe. Men like him experience dominance by means of damning others. And what he holds in his hand is all that’s needed to weaken the woman and her reign. Fists, made to murder heathens like him, refused to strike. He was built to be more brutal and if she did attempt to regain authority, then the self would be surrounded by scars. She thinks to reason with this ravager, but realizes it would be for naught. She’s certain that he gets a thrill at her attempts, knowing well that his strength surpasses hers. But she tries, endlessly and effortlessly, with him, she had always sought to be superior. Whether it’s through her stances or the way she battles against his blade. . . She seeks that validation through victory and he’s the only one so far that has conquered her control. It’s because of him that she thinks back on her battles. . . The hunt was haunting, her fatality left forms frozen. . . Eyes, wide and wild, attempt to search for sympathy. And yet nothing is reflected within his own horrid hues. He is as empty as the empathy she seeks. ❝ I don’t beg. . . This is a new low, even for you. . . You think you’re better than me?! You better not tell a single fucking soul. ❞
A smirk appeared on his face when he saw her expression change to that of an annoyed one when he mentioned her defeat to his teammate.
His smirk would soon disappear as she continued talking. She’s annoying. Definitely annoying. “Courtesy? you didn’t show me any of that. oh what was your name again? Jessica? Jenny? Barbara?” he asked as if he was trying to remember it.
“I wasn’t the one being rude int he first place. But if it’ll get you to leave me alone then fine. Another question, what if the next tournament isn’t a tag team like it was this time? I mean all you have is your wimpy brother right?” he said beginning to take the lead. “unless you actually have friends, which I’d be surprised if you did.”
He figured he might as well pick fun at her, and insult her brother as well.
Everything he said was extremely infuriating; it’s as though he was the incarnation of all her calamities. And the way he displayed amusement at her anger, the snide smirk worn upon lips that continue to deliver lyrical lashings. . . She was abandoning the idea of appearing docile; she was sure that if her mentor were around, he’d beg her to display her defenses in a less hostile manner. But the words he once uttered to soothe her savageries were failing to be recalled. The woman moved forward, daring to enter his personal domain. Her chest meets with his and feet push her forward, forcing her to mimic his height (if not to look slightly taller) in order to appear holier. Her dominance is so damaging; she wants to watch him wither. . . Fists remain clenched; the only act she won’t embrace is violence. However, she will be close to corrode his comfort, to make herself seem mighty by simple motions. But despite how degrading his words are, his testimony holds some truth. . . What was she without her twin? Better, to some degree. . . But regardless of how she may see herself, she knew that it was him that always appeared when she slipped or suffered. She has yet to learn how to pick up all her pieces, but she tries. . . And he is the only one that can tolerate her tantrums and rage. It hinders her ability to interact with others, regardless of how often she convinces herself that she’s loved. ❝ Doesn’t matter if it’s a tag tournament or not. We’ve practiced with and without each other. This year is going to be different. And whether or not I beat Tala won’t matter; I know for a fact that I can conquer you. You better get used to seeing what the world looks like when you’re at my feet. ❞
‘a moment of weakness’
( Moment of Weakness. | Accepting. | @whitetigxr8. My muse is surrounded by thugs up to no good and yours happens upon this. )
She often saw herself as superior, even when compared to a creation who too was comprised of the same crimson. She wore a crown made of woe and war, stolen from the savages she’s slaughtered throughout her reign. And she wears it well, convincing herself that she’s a queen among those who exist to annihilate her authority. These beings beckon her into battle, whether it’s through glances or an exhalation of underestimation… She strives to steal their solace, to become the one they worship after falling before the feet of the femme. And seldom has she been stripped of her victories, despite the visions of those that vex her. But now her cockiness has come back to berate her. Now many grow tired of the words she uses to wound her fellow warriors. And while she accepts the animosity, she feels as though she would’ve been better prepared if her brother was there to assist her. It’s here that she discovers desolation, what it’s like to feel alone among of sea of strangers that seek to ravage her rule. And with blades surrounding her own structure, the interaction is becoming more intimidating. She believes in herself, yes… But her confidence is corroding upon seeing the faces that reflect such ferocity. This isn’t how she wanted to be seen; it’s just her sick way of wanting these barbarians to better themselves. And yet she stands her ground, her instrument still spinning in front of her frame, as if protecting the prefect from further faltering. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him… But to acknowledge his existence despite how often she had degraded him-… Well, she’d had enough humbling for one night.
if you’re reading this i’m beautiful
Send ‘a moment of weakness’
and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter. { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }
Your muse is emotionally compromised and breaking down.
My muse is emotionally compromised and breaking down.
Your muse is smashed drunk and incoherent.
My muse is completely drunk and incoherent.
Your muse is tied up (how and why is up to the mun)
My muse is all tied up (how and why is up to the mun)
Your muse is surrounded by thugs up to no good and mine happens to pass by.
My muse is surrounded by thugs up to no good and yours happens upon this.
Your muse is having a vivid nightmare and is shouting out brokenly.
My muse is having a vivid nightmare and is crying out in their sleep.
Your muse has been drugged with a aphrodisiac and is out of it, needing release.
My muse has been drugged with a aphrodisiac and is in a haze, needing release.
Your muse is being beat up by mine, something your muse did must of been the last straw.
My muse is being beat up by yours, something they did must of been the last straw.
Your muse is being kept hostage and mine has just rescued them.
My muse is kidnapped and yours has just rescued them.
Your muse has been beaten badly and is in bad shape, mine happens to find them.
My muse is been beaten badly and is in bad shape, yours finds mine in this state.
Your muse falls very ill and continues activities even if they seem on the verge of passing out.
My muse is sick and continues daily routine even though they seem on the verge of passing out.
Your muse is in a frightened or nervous state (why is up to the mun)
My muse is in a frightened or nervous state (why is up to the mun)
Your muse is being punished by mine.
My muse is being punished by yours.
Your muse is temporarily blind.
My muse is temporarily blind.
Your muse has suddenly sprained an ankle and can’t walk.
My muse has suddenly sprained an ankle and can’t walk.
Your muse has blackmail over mine.
My muse has blackmail over yours.
Your muse catches mine naked.
My muse catches yours naked.
Mun chooses.
kiitsa 🌺
