DEAR READER
No title available
No title available
pixel skylines
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Kaledo Art
AnasAbdin
ellievsbear
RMH
🪼
Xuebing Du
JVL
noise dept.
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Cosimo Galluzzi
@theartofmadeline
NASA
#extradirty
shark vs the universe
seen from Netherlands
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Sri Lanka
seen from France
seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from T1
@lupinoire
#𝐋𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐑𝐄. private & friends-only side-blog to @bloodxhound. casual and low activity. if you're here, i assume you know the drill. dark themes will be present.
𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐠'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬.
( RULES ✦ ABOUT )
“I was not a lovable child, and I’d grown into a deeply unlovable adult. Draw a picture of my soul, and it’d be a scribble with fangs.”
— Gillian Flynn, from Dark Places
———— 🖤┊ WITH A SQUEAL, darkness sifts through his screen, blotches of grey implying imperceptible movement. ❝ stoooop! ❞ the banshee bawls, though kittenish trills affectionately displace the chill caterwauls of that nature command. contradictory thoughts flourish, flora and vines battling as the mind ran rampant. ( i hate him! ooough, he's so—!! ) while blossoms bloom upon a rapidly beating heart, deeply rooted bindweed asphyxiate the subsequent yearning. ( i hope he's not like that with others. i have no right to whine about that. )
he is but one breath away from perceiving her — an inhalation taken loudly without shame, such that she could scrape away lovesick scrawls engraved into giddy smiles. ❝ you know i would not deny you anything, ❞ she manages whilst her heart hammers her ribcage. after mere moments' time, warm light fills the view, illuminating a now placid smile that curved round cheeks into bottom eyelids, with bunned tresses encapsulating just handfuls of lengthy locks.
with prior fervor tamed, a cordial lilt takes its place, answering earlier inquiry. ❝ i don't know if it'll help... ❞ she starts with a hum, phone slightly shuffled as legs feather kick idly. ❝ but there's this neat guy who messages me at night. his name's raymond and, after a while, i know he's gonna call me. knowing i've got that to look forward to? really makes my day. ❞ ( ugh! still sappy. fuck my life. whateverrr, don't point it out, ray. )
safe to say, she wanted his comfort as much as he hers. a master of masks, as much as she was a master of monikers. she could only hope her words would suffice; give him strength for unending tribulations to come, admitted or not. ❝ enough of me! something got you a little down? ❞
❛❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄! ❜❜ he exclaims with a grin, and for a moment he looks and feels like any other guy in his early twenties. Dressed in the threads of normalcy, spun by friendship and connection, by lighthearted conversation. Whatever skeletons he keeps in his closet, they have faded into irrelevancy for the moment. ❛❛ So you haven’t turned camera-shy all of a sudden. Would’ve been a real shame. Someone’s pretty face will eventually have to doll up this city. Magazine covers, news articles, billboards... you name it. I know you’ll conquer them all. ❜❜ Compliments flow from his lips with ease. This has long become his favorite part of the day. A refuge amidst impossible expectations. He shares in her delight, only magnified by the knowledge it’s him who has contributed to it.
He chuckles, low and amused. Out of view, his leg has begun to jiggle. ❛❛ If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re talking about your crush. ❜❜ But he does know better. These flirtations are harmless moves in a game with no stakes. A game that’s been made possible only because she has entrusted herself into the hands of another. Otherwise he would’ve never taken to teasing and prodding her, to sticking his snout too close to the fire. ❛❛ Ah, ❜❜ he answers then, hint of a grimace accompanying his words. There it is. The skeletons stir back to life. ❛❛ It’s Victor. He’s made a new ‘friend’ and really wanted me to make their acquaintance. Didn’t get along too well. Some people just don’t know when to shut up. ❜❜ He’s speaking in codes, always preferring to err on the side of caution when it comes to these legally delicate matters. He clicks his tongue. ❛❛ Don’t think I’ll hang with him again. He's on his own. You understand. ❜❜
continued from here. / @sinsolucion
𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐏, nor does his spine unwind. Surprise-tinged confusion swirls in a stern gaze beneath a frown held in place by incurable tension. He expected differently, palpably so. Kindness feels suspicious when it challenges preconceived notions. His father would call this a weakness, the mark of one unfit to lead. Coddling produces little if not yellow-bellied men, complacent, stuck in their error-prone ways. A firm hand is a saving hand. But that of Serrano? He must’ve only halted it for not yet knowing the gravity of his mistake. Raymond continues to stare at him, wary and still as a dog awaiting the boot.
❛❛ No, of course not, but... ❜❜ At once, he corrects his stance, rigidity breaking away as though upon command rather than true relief. But it doesn’t stop his jaw from clenching. ❛❛ When I said I fucked up I mean it. I got caught up in the wrong guy. Thought I had the case all figured out, but while I was pressing for a confession, the real culprit had the chance to strike again. ❜❜ Dark brows pinch together as he tests the limits of his superior’s kindness. ❛❛ She’s in the hospital now. Critical condition. ❜❜ Collateral damage, manufactured by youthful hastiness. ❛❛ How can I relax when I know I’m responsible? ❜❜ His question borders on an accusation. ❛❛ I have to fix this. ❜❜
closed starter. / @bloodthirstyflower
𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏, chasing after him like the howls of slavering bloodhounds set loose on a traitor. Raymond staggers through the night, heavy-footed, exhausted, driven to the brink of desperation. His get-away car—stolen from some poor bastard he had pulled out from behind the steering wheel—hadn’t survived his steersmanship towards freedom for long. In a maneuver to evade his pursuers it crashed against a lamppost a few blocks away. He has dragged himself from its crumpled, metallic carcass, pulled from the wreckage and onto his feet by a force of despair that ought to fail his battered, bloody form. He has eschewed death and capture, and will resist the collar of the law for as long as he still draws breath. Even as every inhalation tears through his lungs like an explosion of shrapnel.
A smear of red flashes before his vision. He thinks of blood, of spillage from a fresh knife wound. He realizes a mere blink later it’s only hair, whipped from a woman’s head as she turns around to regard him. Immediately, his gun lifts in her direction. Little scruple governs his actions, just the behest of instinct, the irresistible call of survival. ❛❛ Not a sound, ❜❜ he growls lowly, watching her through a gaze framed one-sidedly by crimson, courtesy of a shattered windshield. Clutching his aching ribs with his free hand, he draws close, nearly stumbling into her. The scent of blood, sweat and gunpowder mark his arrival, contrasting an expensive cologne that would’ve suited him if his reputation hadn’t become as tattered as his tailored suit. The muzzle of his gun presses against her stomach. A threat of violence, should she refuse the role of his savior. A cornered dog will bite, might kill, even without a master to command it to. ❛❛ Take me somewhere safe. Or I’ll turn you into a damn crime scene. ❜❜
by Cy Twombly
· · ─ · ✧ · ─ · · , 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄: post 3 - 5 songs that remind you of your muse. ... ⭑.ᐟ
𝐢. hiding in plain sight, holywatr. lock and key / the doors shut to me / before they open for a time / i know nothing / of the path ahead / for the light is low / and my eyesight dim / whispers of finer things / crows sing the song from above / elusive voices / masked gods / i'm a muzzled dog
𝐢𝐢. blood // water, grandson. beg me for mercy / admit you were toxic / you poisoned me just for / another dollar in your pocket / now i am the violence / i am the sickness / won't accept your silence / beg me for forgiveness
𝐢𝐢𝐢. i know i'm a wolf, courbé. yes, i know i'm a wolf and i've been known to bite / but the rest of my pack, i have left them behind / and my teeth may be sharp and i've been raised to kill / but the thought of fresh meat, it is making me ill
𝐢𝐯. rip, 8 graves. i can taste the fear / like it's wrapped around my tongue / it's too much to hear / all the damage that i've done / [ ... ] / i can barely tell what's real / how am i supposed to feel / when my heart is shattered in my chest / every day's a tragedy / i don't wanna be this way / i just wanna finally lay to rest
𝐯. bring me back a dog, iamx. they say the wretched get their kingdom / breathe on, it's my time, let's go, we all die / god, give a little love / bring me back a dog in the next life / [ ... ] / wanna be a dog in the next life
tagged by: i yoinked it : ) / tagging: @lovlorne, @bloodthirstyflower, @stillresolved ( for my angel annie ^_^ ), @lovethisheart ( lang ! ), @kilamantras, @legalbrats ( dragging u from the shadows, sebby ! ), @kamipyre & anyone else reading this ♡
fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am tired of making a religion out of my suffering’.
[text id: my bones whimper at the thought of what could have been. / what could have been if i was not born in a grave?]
❛❛ I fucked up. ❜❜ It’s admitted easily, truthfully. There had been no need for Soren to cite him into his office; he came of his own accord, once he noticed his oversight. His shoulders straighten, body tensing, until he stands as rigid as a statue, and just as perdurable. This is the only way to survive a bout of disappointment. ❛❛ I accept full responsibility. Tell me how to correct it. ❜❜ [ bad route while he’s still detective-in-training : ) ]
perhaps another precinct would commend this rigidity; or, alternatively, take this very opportunity to lop off the neck raymond protruded so boldly, relishing in the opportunity to batter, to bruise, to beat down. never was that his style, though — and now was as good a time as any to rectify this misunderstanding. ❝ it's not the end of the world, nor your career, ❞ soren offers, sympathy weighing the far ends of his brows. ❝ so you don't have to act like it. this is a time where your learning is encouraged, so while i appreciate your critical eye, one of the things i wish for you to correct is your stance. relax, soldier, you aren't being put to the blade here. ❞ at that, he offers a smile, soft at its corners and buoyant with brotherly affinity. ❝ let's go over your casework together, all right? ❞
“I drained the gentleness from myself as if bleeding a boar.”
— Caitlin Scarano, from “The Boar I Bled,” Do Not Bring Him Water
raymond. → THE INVITATION FOR ANOTHER ROUND DOES NOT COME UNWELCOMED. True, it still feels like a foreign sensation, the presence of another (let alone of someone who actually knows what he's doing) body pressed against her own. However, it is one of the more pleasant experiences to take in, even if another round will only exasperate the soreness. That and the longer she stays with him, the more solid her alibi becomes. If the police do stumble upon her, it will be easier to corroborate her alibi if he is in the vicinity.
She lets herself melt into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. Like a siren, she lies in wait, cajoling him and to a degree, herself into the promised pleasure, her hips rolling against his own in an undulating pace. And then, the phone on the nightstand rings– the kiss of death. He's out of her arms and suddenly she's chilly and empty and frustrated and yet relieved. A little bit.
Acts are more like masks for her than actual clothes anyways.
Just like when the word 'detective' falls out of his mouth and she freezes, the blanket wrapped around her suddenly not enough to stop the chill that runs through her blood. How is she supposed to maintain an alibi in front of a detective, let alone the one assigned to her latest assignment? She knew this was a terrible idea, she can't possibly keep him from finding out– his voice is white noise as she rummages around the mattress, trying not to make too much noise. The scalpel has to still be somewhere here. She made sure it was tucked within an arm's distance before she fell asleep last night–
Wait a second. Her hand slips from out from beneath the pillow, bereft of the blade hidden there.
If he's the detective on her case, it's more than possible to find out what the enemy knows, no spyware or turncoat needed. Versailles is always complaining about the police being on the Fountain's tail these days, anyways.
And if he's begging her to keep by his side...perhaps this might not be a hindrance as much as an opportunity. Annie will just need to find the right way to tell Versailles.
The mask slips back on. She gives an innocent tilt of her head. "You want...to meet me again?" Which, on its own is surprising– she can't help but pity him too now that he is the unfortunate sailor falling victim to the siren's song. A small nod before she hands him her phone in the pile of her clothes pooled on the floor.
"I'll...I'll text you, then."
𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄, prompting his smile to turn apologetic. To him, who is surrounded by death at all times, be it off or on duty, it’s easy to forget the distress it brings about. Annie Choi, whose innocence is painted like a blemish upon her face, must bruise at the mere mention. Murder, to most, is only exciting at a safe distance, filtered through the spectacle of fiction, captured on paper pages and silver screens that render its occurrence as fanciful as a dragon sweeping down from blue Californian skies. It’s less exciting when it creeps up on the day-to-day idyll, when it threatens the sense of security most people take for granted. ❛❛ Ah, my bad. Don’t pay that call any mind. I know it’s not a pleasant subject. ❜❜
He accepts the device, navigating to her contacts to add his info. A moment later his own phone, abandoned on the nightstand, comes to life, vibrating on rosewood like a cicada suffering its death throes. ❛❛ Don’t act so surprised, ❜❜ he chuckles lowly, returning what’s hers. ❛❛ A lovely woman like you probably has countless admirers. ❜❜ Shy and unassuming as she is, this is far from likely, but he sells his assumption with an assurance that verges on certitude.
The ensuing lapse in conversation is filled with the rustle of clothes, the rattle of his belt buckle as he slips back into his suit pants — an urgency born from a pressing schedule. His mind has snapped back like a rubber band, latching onto the murder of Mr. Match. The battle is half-won. His alibi has been secured. A perpetrator already picked out, soon to be framed, then convicted. A fentanyl-addict, on parole for burglary and battery. The kind of lowlife no one would miss. Raymond’s gaze floats outside the large hotel windows, to a world full of challenges, mapping out his route to victory. A quick stop to plant the victim’s stolen possessions into greedy, unassuming hands. Then another stop home for a shower and change of clothes. Finally, the crime scene, the biggest hurdle, despite its manipulated state.
Fully clothed, hair messily combed back with his fingers, he returns to his bedfellow, his alibi, his linchpin. ❛❛ Check-out’s by twelve. Breakfast included. The key’s on the table. Do me a favor and try their pastries before you leave. I hear they’re to die for. ❜❜ His smile strains as self-awareness climbs his throat like bile. How ironic that someone truly had to die for her indulgence. He evicts the thought, stooping from his great height to press a chaste kiss against her cheek. ❛❛ Let me know how you liked them, alright? See you soon, Annie. ❜❜
NSFW PREFERENCES. bold, yes. bold + italic, favorite. italic, conditional. struck through, never.
submissive. dominant. prefers to top. prefers to bottom. likes to switch. heterosexual. gay. lesbian. bisexual. pansexual. asexual. demisexual. enjoys sex with men. enjoys sex with women. enjoys sex with genderfluid, agender, demigender, or nonbinary individuals. enjoys sex with all genders regardless of identity. enjoys sex with multiple people at a time. enjoys intimacy with women. enjoys intimacy with men. enjoys intimacy with genderfluid, agender, demigender, or nonbinary individuals. enjoys intimacy with all genders regardless of gender. initiates. waits for partner to initiate. spits. swallows. morning sex. night sex. sex any time. no sex drive. low sex drive. average sex drive. high sex drive. hypersexual. fluctuating sex drive.
BODY & APPEARANCE.
slender build. medium build. athletic build. muscular build. curvy build. voluptuous. chubby build. wears boxers. wears boxer-briefs. wears lingerie. goes commando. shaves. trims. waxes. does not shave. cup size a-c. cup size d-f. 1-5” in length. 6-9” in length. 10” or over in length.
SOUNDS.
silent. quiet. loud. grows in volume over time. bites hand. bites partner. bites pillow to muffle self. calls out partners name. curses. fakes. exaggerates. prefers a quiet partner. prefers a loud partner. prefers a partner who grows in volume over time. turned on by dirty talk. turned off by dirty talk.
TURN - ONS / KINKS.
having their hands pinned. pinning partner’s hands. having own hair pulled. pulling partner’s hair. being watched ( by their partner ). being watched ( by a third party ). watching their partner. receiving oral. giving oral. giving praise. receiving praise. biting or marking. being bitten or marked. spanking. being spanked. teasing. being teased. having toys used on them. using toys on their partner. giving anal. receiving anal. choking. being choked. dirty talk. being tied up. tying partner up. being worshipped. worshipping partner. humiliating. being humiliated. degrading. being degraded. knife play. blood play. being pegged. pegging partner. partner wearing lingerie. wearing lingerie. whipping. being whipped.
tagged by: @stillresolved you asked, i provided ♡ / tagging: you !
I was obedient but numb,
Margaret Atwood, from Selected Poems II: 1976 - 1986
she commands his feet remain planted where they are before she takes leave. upon returning with a small step ladder, her climb brings her just shy of his head, enough for her to dangle a mistletoe expectantly above him.
𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌. Far be it from him to question her motives. He remains in place, a well-trained hound, eager for her return. When she graces the room with her presence once more, he eyes the step-ladder curiously, for there’s nothing she ought to trouble herself with when he’s around to cater to her every need. With him at her side, nothing is beyond her reach. No matter how minuscule or grand the undertaking. A drink, a head, an empire. He’d find a way to pluck the stars from the sky if her heart sang of the desire to possess them.
For now, however, she’s asking for less. Just his affection. Russet eyes follow her ascent, step after graceful step, until the summit raises her to a height befitting her sanctitude. His gaze lifts to behold her blessing, the mistletoe, its bone-white berries glistening like freshwater pearls amidst a verdant, leafy heart. He admires her ability of retaining her whimsy despite their circumstances, the bloodshed and intrigues. A facsimile of normalcy, carved and clawed into a blind spot of their fathers.
Beneath the sprig, time suspends, freezing its subjects in place like a snapshot. The corners of his lips curl upwards into a slow-spreading smile that sheds all layers of austerity usually sculpting the sharp angles of his face. His shoulders follow suit, sloping with a quiet breath as he leans into her proximity. Yearning to satisfy her expectations, he cups her cheeks with a tenderness that contradicts all of his father’s teachings. An attack dog shouldn’t love, shouldn’t want nor desire. It shouldn’t even dream of such sentiments to ever take root within the dark cavern of its ruinous heart. An open mouth should beget violence, a bark, a bite. But for her, in spite of his nature, his lips split for a kiss. Soft as the snow falling outside and just as fleeting. He pours all of his adoration into this rare moment, pressing his reverence like a branding upon her petal-soft lips, that holy curve of her mouth.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 — search your muse's name and select three to nine unsent messages to them.
tagged by: (´• ω •`) / tagging: @kamipyre, @legalbrats (your choice!), @lovlorne, @bloodthirstyflower, @kilamantras, @lovethisheart (lang) & you, snatch it ! ♡
sorry the faces of every man ive ever killed just flashed before my eyes was that a yes or a no to butt stuff
