izzy's playlists!
Andulka
bliss lane
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cherry valley forever
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
if i look back, i am lost
RMH
Not today Justin
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Today's Document
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macklin celebrini has autism
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@huborus
there's a crack in the altar pale light through the break like crooked teeth
I saw you trembling all wrapped up in a towel afraid to go home
& if I could find a use for things, I cannot help but do I might one day atone
the hills move like lungs, the river speaks in tongues & I am not alone
caterina ravaglia by luca meneghel for vogue portugal
the backtrack to a disturbing bliss vision : faith’s face hovers just above yours, the angle of light constantly shifting, changing her expression & shape. bleeding into the black sky. the flowers sway, shades of pink & blue & purple too bright- overexposed. are you on your back ? when did you lie down ? you struggle to breathe, as if your head was underwater. you're crying. you’re floating. you’re dying. hush, she giggles, & you didn’t realize you were sobbing. or are you laughing ? people are dancing. music is playing- disjointed & out of time. you join in, but your body stays put. you writhe & you sway & you clap & the people smile without faces. why don’t they have faces ? you’re dizzy. the world spins & someone is reaching towards you. they catch & release you in the same breath. you return to your body. the dew kisses your face. your mother leans down beside faith & she beckons her forward. their bodies blend, until their faces are one & the same. their voices speak in two tones. oh, honey, you don’t look so good. do you have a fever ? you wake up breathing hard, cold & alone. a faint mist lingers around you.
Keeper’s Pool, Sutton Park by Bob Robertson
things move quickly after the wedding - hell, life seemed to move at the speed of light after the engagement was announced, but eliza was still on her own turf, then. now, she’s getting settled into the house, into the city - she barely has enough time to feel homesick, that’s for damn sure. currently, she’s unpacking her few suitcases and adding minor personal touches to the shared home - just a bit of warmth, really. some blankets, opening up windows - new york air is stuffy compared to palermo’s - just getting acquainted. it’s a whirlwind, but she’s kept her head up so far.
there are still so many people to meet - those who couldn’t make it to the wedding, allies of either family sending gifts, congratulations, flowers… so, when the doorbell rings, eliza isn’t exactly caught off-guard. in the mess of everything, she looks out the peephole to see a woman waiting there. eliza turns to her preening cat, then, extending a single finger to instruct him; “stai lì, rimani lì.” stay there. she opens up the door, a picture of well-tended neutrality & warmth before shutting it behind her and smiling kindly at the company. “sorry, baby - i’m not shuttin’ ya out, i promise - th’cat will jus’… run if i leave the door open.” she’s seen her before - in the newspapers. what’s her name again? “- can i help you?”
* plotted starter / @huborus!
weddings didn’t occur often in the seed family- suitors & brides handpicked oh so carefully, when possible. it had not been so long since alaric had married the first ( since passed, what a terrible accident ), an event she had attended, but the second was out of her hands. italy was a long way from new york city, & the empire could not be left unattended. who knows what could happen, if their operations were left vulnerable ? so she stayed, to-do list long ( supply shipment, satellite site establishment, distribution meeting, elimination of a few choice “ problems ” ). it had been a few days since the return when faith rung their bell. trust could only be formed through connection, & connection began with the meeting of strangers. she had heard little about this girl- much about her family, her value, her connections, but little about her. she wished to see her ( the one they talked of like an imported good ). to know her. hands were clasped behind her back as the door swung open, eyes drawn immediately to the woman’s kind face. a pause taken just to look, curious.
“ wouldn’t you ? run ? I’d go mad, trapped in a box. ” she had. formative years confined to a gilded cage. jessop conservatory. the city had been her great escape- her first real breath of freedom. where she could stretch her stiff wings. the woman smiled, maybe a moment too late for the remark to come off as light. “ my name is faith. I’m family. ” no other explanation offered, head tipped slightly to the right. “ may I come in ? ”
lana had known.
the days after the father had told her she was to take on a new role within the project were impossibly long, anticipation coloring each second. it was a friday sermon, afternoon sun shielded by thick gray clouds above. joseph, john, jacob, & faith ( then, a black-haired woman with a fragile frame ), were gathered in a wide field, followers crowded around each but the solider who stood guard. the father had beckoned to rachel, & she had walked forward graciously, hands clasped tightly in his. the long grass came up waist-high, brushing against their elbows as he took her face gently in his hands, as he pressed his forehead to hers, as he spoke softly, resolutely. asking her if she had faith in him. yes, father. an embrace. she opened her eyes, chin tucked against the prophet’s shoulder, & when she did, faith was staring at her. the world seemed to stop, for a moment. a believer was talking to the herald, but she made no reply. rachel realized, days later, that her unreadable expression held the cold horror of looking at the face of your death. what was she thinking ? she was just like me. she’s me. oh, god. she’s me.
the woman’s lips had parted, & for a moment rachel thought she may scream, wail, cry, vomit. but nothing came out. she just stood, gaunt face frozen in terrible realization. & then the minute passed, & knowing she was watched, she willed herself to smile- red eyes as glassy as a shot buck. an awful, contorted grimace. her shaking hands had raised to comfort the lamb, & the well had overflown, tears running down her pallid face. she wasn’t seen again, outside of faith’s dreams. standing in the dark, screaming without sound. gasp, awake, alone.
oh, lana, lana. loyal til the end. who will find your body, too broken to mend ? tossed in the muck, acid eating flesh. I thought I would be the last, each faith confessed. rachel, rachel, you got so far. the favorite. the siren. how clever you are. assuming the role of the sacrificial dove. how’d it work out for you, honey ? did you feel loved ?
FAITH SEED : youthful, unassuming, unmarried. few recognize the sole sister of joseph, jacob, & john seed outside of brief ( contained ) media features. even fewer still know her as the engineer behind the biggest illicit drug business in new york city. no one but her is privy to what exactly is contained in her signature form of heroin ( “bliss” ) but its potent effects have grave consequences.
new url what’s up 😛
rachel shows herself when faith is not on guard, in secure, silent places. she’s quiet, not smiling often, no far-away look on her face. she’s focused & she’s witty & she foregoes white dresses for loose shirts & pants. she seems lonely, without her mask on. vulnerable & solid, unlike the herald in all her ethereal secrecy.
Days I feel like a human being, while other days I feel more like a sound. I touch the world not as myself but as an echo of who I was.
Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous (Penguin, 2019)
#elle planning campbell’s murder downfall is my new aesthetic
the geneticist who assisted faith in her early work on the bliss has since become an angel, roaming the fields, mind too loud to make any sense of at all ( not of his own volition. a necessary sacrifice ). thus, the bliss is a well-kept secret only faith knows the key to. that’s by design. her insurance.
some fic: opens up in jacob’s pov like “faith is dead. I always knew she was weak. this doesn’t trouble me at all.”
me:
“…you’re like an angel, nothing touches you.”
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
who found out that nothing can capture a heart like a melody can? well, whoever it was, i’m a fan … / eliza cecilia kardel ! multi-fandom, slow activity, loved by sophie !
