Show & Tell
ojovivo
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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EXPECTATIONS
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gracie abrams
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trying on a metaphor
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#extradirty
KIROKAZE
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
art blog(derogatory)
oozey mess
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@metamorphosd
# METAMORPHOSD : created by megan ( est. oct. 2021 ) -- a highly private , plot - orientated multimuse blog featuring characters of various media. this blog is not suitable for minors as it will contain many TRIGGERING THEMES [ including but necessarily limited to ... ] : mental + bodily autonomy, sexuality, horror + mental health themes in horror , identity, and trauma. current muse list below the cut - ( subject to change / expand )
follow my bonnie bennett if ya want and plot things with me @sacrificialed
Bonnie is such an important character to me. And I wanna plot and write on her blog asap
heghosts:
it’s become habitual, laying in this bed they’ve made out of rotten wood and blanketed by the night. it’s more of a cloak to him, backed into it’s anonymity like a fitted glove. momentarily in and out of being faceless in the blackness, not that she’d notice. he does, the smallest of things. where the hungry and the restless lie awake in the open mouth of night, sweat bubbling at skin from the hot breath of it’s maw. he’s as restless and aggressive as the sway of the trees. scratching, gnawing, teeth and skin. a feverish haste. feet stumble in their midst of wrapped limbs, until the anticipated wait comes to an end. tucking the remnants of her left on him away, preoccupied with belt loops whilst she snuck off.
that unknown origin of uneasiness may be derived from the silence in his presence. ominously dangerous in his creeping steps. (the startling jumpscare pulled right out of a horror movie, something else that had become habitual) the instinct of an animal to flee from the hidden blood thirsty things when their presence nears. in it’s harsh and sudden rip through the air, she turns and feeds all her fears into him. even if for the quick seconds it took to untangle the net of limbs they found themselves in again. it’s all washed away, when it’s just him there. not the killer in his ghost mask, haunting the dust collected and tired yawn of this town. ❝ thought you left. the birds. ❞ eyes flit to the air, signaling his movie reference. ❝ didn’t think you were that easy to scare. ❞
‘ i hate birds. dewey had one when we were kids and - ‘ there is a lull, then, her mouth clacking shut, a mouse’s trap on the unwelcome resurrection of memories she had stored away like a shoe box under her bed. she is willing to spread her knees in the dirt to worship him, but she isn’t willing to divulge the intimate details of her private psyche. in the hot jungle of their hurried fucking, there isn’t an entry point to forming a familiarity to who they are beneath skin, beneath cartilage, beneath her nails digging ruthlessly into his back. he is not the boy she unloads all her shit on; she can not stand here and unpack the psychology behind being a young girl who loved a pet bird then one day finding it stiff and lifeless on its side. she was five, colliding against her first experience with death, and not understanding where the life went after it left. she could not explain this childish shock, that things you loved could perish, and her aversion to birds ever since. ‘ i just don’t like them, ‘ she finishes lamely.
she has not bothered to retreat from their proximity. instead, her fingers almost unconsciously snare into his shirt like a needle to thread. he smells like her, and she immediately runs slick with want for the second time that night and hates herself for it. ‘ does sid know where you are tonight ? ‘ she is pushing him back into a tree, catching his knee between her thighs like bait. this is how she deals: dump the blame on him. she thinks she might half-love him, or it’s just a post-orgasm high. ‘ we’re despicable. ‘
onhunt:
IGOR FOLLOWS HER ROUTE, removing his shoes at the foyer. the door closes behind him with a click that spells finality — a sound not unlike a safety catch, he decides, and his lips inch ever-upward at the thought. ‘ i’ll give you a heads-up next time. ’ ( if there will be a next time. he carves out slivers of the present, carries his body from shore to shore; the prospect of a future, a bright and limitless horizon, is too ridiculous to merit any consideration. )
‘ you make it impossible to decline. i mean, you’re beautiful. ’ he’s said it all before; left imprints of want on her praise-spoiled neck, her bucking hips, her inner thighs, but each repetition has its own rhythm, its own history. igor speaks in polarities, a pendulum trapped between his teeth. tonight, it swings towards brazen frankness. tomorrow, it’ll withdraw to indifference. ‘ where do you keep your glasses? ’
in her apartment, the modest fireplace crackles like an angry cricket. the refurbished victorian hearth is a gaping cave of obsidian stone, and the flames lick high and bright against the mantle. a falling asteroid, it mirrors the future motion of her writhing frame along his hips, his jaw, if the night continues to chase the energy stirring between them like static. ‘ i think you only call me that because you don’t know my name. ‘ she plays her cards tactlessly, face up on the table, with nothing to lose. this electric momentum of theirs reminds her of when she was eighteen and wanting, scratching and toying like a cat at her every whim. it is what her husband loved most about her.
in her thirties now, it is revivifying to share in this carnal chemistry once again. lucy looks at him, and imagines curving her spine like an acrobat and riding him on her kitchen island. ‘ i’ll get them. ‘ on her toes, she elongates her torso to reach the top far left cabinet. her robe uncoils against the stretch, revealing the pink swell of her breasts. she snipes two crystal glasses. ‘ do you want ice ? ‘
❝ it occurred to me that i’ve never snuck through your bedroom window. ❞
@metamorphosd … liked.
‘ that’s because you know my mom would kill you if she caught us. ‘ he’s in his glory inching across her windowsill, her fingers latching to his jacket’s lapels to assist, sliding along the cotton of it. she glances down bashfully at the patchwork stitching of her sweatpants, walking them backwards into the heart of her room. the lamplight on her beside table crackles. ‘ if i’ve gotten a heads up, i would have put on my cute pjs. ‘
❝ what happened to "we should just forget about it”? ❞
@metamorphosd … liked.
cherry - stem lips, the near indistinguishable quiver of them between her teeth, that pathetic betrayal of desire quenched inside her bones at the sight of him. she averts her gaze to his feet, the centimeter between his doorstep and her heels. ‘ i’m here now and it’s cold. ‘ it’s a tolerable sixty degrees, but she lets the excuse fumble between them anyhow. he can take it or leave it. ‘ so can you let me in, dipshit ? ‘
AGGRESSION // SEXUAL TENSION .
acts that could be aggressive // or a little bit sexy // or both. send a symbol from your muse to mine. feel free to combine actions or add specifics even when it doesn’t ask for it ! can send non - sexually as well.
THREATENING
🔪 // put a knife to my muse’s throat .
🖐️ // put a hand around my muse’s throat .
👕 // slide a weapon up under my muse’s shirt ( can specify ) .
👔 // grab my muse by the collar & pull them closer .
🔒 // lock my muse in a room alone with your muse .
🗩 // verbally threaten my muse ( please specify ) .
PINNING
🔙 // push my muse against a wall .
📌 // pin my muse’s wrists above their head .
🔵 // grab my muse hard enough to leave a bruise .
🔑 // handcuff my muse .
➰ // tie my muse to a chair .
⭕ // restrain my muse with an item of clothing ( please specify ) .
🚨 // push my muse to the ground & straddle them .
📢 // tell my muse ‘ stop squirming ! ’ .
🔗 // otherwise restrain my muse ( please specify ) .
LIGHTER
👀 // grab my muse’s jaw & direct their gaze towards yours .
⚡ // tug my muse’s hair .
⚠️ // bite my muse ( can specify where ) .
😏 // give my muse a hickey .
✂️ // run fingernails over my muse’s skin & scratch them .
💦 // cover my muse’s mouth .
DARKER
💋 // give my muse a kiss that draws blood .
🗡️ // cut my muse with a knife ( can specify where ) .
💀 // kidnap my muse .
😶 // put a hand over my muse’s nose & mouth .
💥 // tighten something around my muse’s throat that restricts their blood - flow / oxygen supply ( please specify ) .
( ❛ hunger . give my muse something to eat / drink )
after, she turned all the mirrors in her bedroom backwards. the contamination of the stranger she housed in the heart-shaped concave of her knees, her elbows, the perpendicular bevel of her neck, has tainted the memory of her. before, she could recognize the topography of her body blindfolded. now, she only makes love in the dark after she has diluted the vision of them with vodka cranberry. if she were to look at them, she fears the reflection of her old boyfriend would stare back at her, with a river of blood for a mouth. why didn’t her mother ever warn her about falling in love with a killer ?
the morning is crisp and grey, a silhouette of an approaching storm. she approaches igor sat under a tree in the quad, a butter croissant flaking against the edges of a saturated napkin clasped between her fingers, she perches delicately like a bird beside him and waves the pastry under his nose. ‘ you left the pub quite suddenly last night, where’d you disappear to ? ‘ she slides the croissant his way after snagging a bite of the crumpling corner. ‘ you want ? ‘ / @onhunt
i wouldn’t typically make a post like this but i’m not above saying this month is going to suck. i’m starting a new job & won’t get paid until the 10th from my other job. what’s happened is i live at home, my mother is on high level disability but since her partner has gotten two paychecks this month (one was barely 100, it was just basically a tax rebate) the government have assumed more income than she actually has because they saw two paychecks. so typically she has around £900 to cover most of her rent, utilities & food (which, frankly, for a family of three; excluding myself as i buy all my own food). they’ve given her less than £300. even with me paying my share of rent, it has barely covered the cost of our rent. luckily, we’re in government housing but that doesn’t stop them from threatening her & putting a lot of strain on the family (we’ve been in rent arrears before, i’ve been helping her keep ontop of it).
essentially, if you can help, i’d appreciate it. i would like to get less in the red if possible. all my savings have gone towards keeping the house, keeping the heat on now we’re coming into winter. i’m going to speak to my bank about a potential extension of my overdraft (which is only £100) as my credit is good, but in the meantime i would like the chance to not get absolutely fucked by interest as i could potentially struggle to afford the travel to my new job, which is my only chance outta this shitshow lmao.
if you can help with anything at all, my paypal is [email protected]
SELENA GOMEZ as MABEL MORA in ONLY MURDERS IN THE BUILDING (2021-)
STU MACHER & TATUM RILEY IN SCREAM ( 1996 )
𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 & 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 (a series of nonverbal prompts . mature themes present , ‘ my ’ muse belongs to the one who posted the meme - send “ + REVERSE ” to reverse the prompts .)
→ 𝐈 . GENERAL
❛ hush . raise a finger in a gesture to silence my muse . ❛ sit . gesture for my muse to sit down . ❛ door . hold a door open for my muse . ❛ tap . tap my muse on the shoulder to garner their attention . ❛ hunger . give my muse something to eat / drink . ❛ cook . present my muse with home - cooked food . ❛ brush . work a brush / comb through my muse’s hair . ❛ read . silently read a book alongside my muse . ❛ hand . hold out a hand for my muse to take . ❛ dressed . help my muse put on an article of clothing . ❛ note . give my muse a note saying : [ content ] . ❛ amplify . turn up the music in the car .
→ 𝐈𝐈 . ANGST
❛ patch . help my muse patch up a wound . ❛ night terrors . hold my muse after they wake up from a nightmare . ❛ company . silently sit with my muse to comfort them. ❛ hospital . my muse is told that yours is in the hospital . ❛ revelation . show my muse evidence of a lie they told . ❛ indulge . find my muse drinking to cope . ❛ downfall . find my muse collapsed on the ground . ❛ console . comfort my muse as they cry . ❛ nurse . give my muse company in the hospital .
→ 𝐈𝐈 . AFFECTIONATE
❛ wink . wink at my muse . ❛ wrap . wrap an arm around my muse’s [ shoulders / waist ] . ❛ caress . gently caress my muse’s face . ❛ tousle . mess playfully with my muse’s hair . ❛ chest . place your head on my muse’s chest . ❛ comb . comb fingers through my muse’s hair . ❛ grasp . run to my muse & jump into their arms . ❛ lean . lean on my muse’s shoulder . ❛ tender . kiss my muse on the [ forehead / cheek / nose ] . ❛ abrupt . kiss my muse out of the blue . ❛ chaste . chastely kiss my muse . ❛ good morning . kiss my muse the morning after . ❛ volumes . gaze at my muse in a way that silently says ‘i love you’ .
→ 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . VIOLENT
❛ strike . [ slap / punch ] my muse in the face . ❛ gun . wield a gun at my muse . ❛ twist . twist my muse’s arm behind their back . ❛ throttle . aggressively wrap your hands around my muse’s throat . ❛ parch . burn my muse with a hot object . ❛ take down . forcefully bring my muse to the ground . ❛ gouge . wield a sharp object at my muse . ❛ shunt . shove my muse backwards . ❛ stickup . yell at my muse to put their hands in the air. ❛ shoot . [ fatally / non-fatally ] shoot my muse . ❛ stab . stab my muse with a [ knife / other object ].
→ 𝐈𝐕 . NSFW
❛ surprise . send an unexpected nsfw image to my muse . ❛ pin . push my muse against a [ wall, table, other ] . ❛ go down . go down on my muse . ❛ choke . intimately wrap your hands around my muse’s throat . ❛ belt loops . pull my muse closer by their belt loops . ❛ skinny dipping . go skinny dipping with my muse . ❛ rip . tear a piece of clothing from my muse’s body . ❛ mark . leave a mark on my muse’s body [ specify where ] .
here, they frequent, in the rapid guzzle of night. it undulates its throat, consuming the trees in their clandestine thicket. she is as hungry as this night. as she is most nights she meets him here, at the site of a disintegrating chalet that was once host to a bohemian commune. she yearns to blend into the dark's anonymity away from herself, where the trees reach their limbs like arms to embrace her [ ... ] his arms. in that embrace, she transforms from the corse of her shame into a fury of bodies skin, necks, mouths of wolves, heat. sometimes, when the guilt thrives like an unhealed wound, she will not look at him until they are spent, and he disengages from behind her, his semen dripping from between her thighs like pus from that abjection. in those tense occurences, she will scurry her skirt back over her hips and retreat from him without a glance. her teeth are an imprint in the wood wall.
at the helm of witching hour, she sneaks to their alcove, overwhelmed by the smell of rot and mud. it is vacant of sound except the trill of wind through the broken windows. without a source, an uneasiness sinks into her like a stone and she halts at the head of a dilapidated banister. a decay of bones. suddenly, the flap of a bird's wings like cloth ripping, and she spins and nets against billy's chest. a huff blowing from the bridge of her mouth, ' fuck's sake, billy - creepy much ? '//@heghosts
‘ MUST I HAVE A REASON FOR DECIDING TO PAY YOU A VISIT? ’ he stands in the doorway, smiles a reckless smile — rain-soaked and sleep-starved and keenly aware of how his white shirt clings to him like cellophane. ( as a shroud clings to a corpse, bleeding punctured memories into the air. igor’s philosophy is simple: the greater the carnage, the deeper the delight. and sure enough, he’s delighted. ) ‘ weather’s awful. is paris usually this depressing? ’
@ribboned [ … ] ‘ to what do i owe the pleasure? ’
' i did not expect to see you again so soon. ' the flush of rain below her stoop , the open jaw of autumn , was a strange affirmation to the paris ideal. the city must fatigue in carrying its backbone of a utopia for romance. the man easing at the hinge of her door encompassing of the erotic touchstone to which these romantic things were so often measured [ ... ] a robust chest , the silk - chewed mouth , rushing in at the tail - end of a storm as though he were the catalyst. ' stop sopping up my floor and come in. i was about to run a bath - '
she has always been present in her desires , and she's clad in them now in the style of a satin robe unspooling from her shoulders. the gold blade of her heels slice across the floor toward her kitchen , these greedy graceful fingers looping around the cold neck of merlot. ' care to join ? '
BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER | S7E18: Dirty Girls.
