No title available
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
tannertan36
trying on a metaphor
roma★
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Today's Document
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
if i look back, i am lost
★
todays bird
Jules of Nature
⁂
ellievsbear
Sade Olutola
izzy's playlists!
wallacepolsom
Cosimo Galluzzi
we're not kids anymore.
cherry valley forever
seen from Germany
seen from Belarus
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Hungary
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Netherlands
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Finland
seen from Hungary
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
@prophezeiung
I N T R O › independent multi-muse ft. ocs and canons from greek myth, literature, tv and more M U N › luna, any pronouns, 23, gmt+1 N A V I G A T I O N › muses rules I N T E R A C T › ask plotting call starter call memes Q U I Z Z E S › which one of my characters are u? M I S C › character pinterest boards character playlists promo
INFO / BLOG
zukunftsvision:
for as long as he could, prokopenko fought to stay suspended in time between where his loyalty should be and where it aches to belong. but in the end, the sprinkles of information he handed over — dwindling to less and less even as kavinsky allowed him access to more, enough to keep him in the game but not enough to bring it to an end — weren’t the only source of intel in the years-long operation, and he had no way of accounting for the others. every decision that led him to this moment runs past him, a film reel of moments he wouldn’t trade for anything but wishes he’d never had, because nothing else will ever compare, and the futures each might have led to if he’d done things differently.
he’s been here for months, the better part of a year, and every passing day was an opportunity to fix the mess he’s made that he didn’t take. he should have recognized the right thing to do, corrected his course as much as possible without revealing himself by dropping just enough information to guarantee the success of the takedown, kept his fucking mouth shut and let the kavinsky empire fall to the ground. ( as if it really makes a difference, as if there aren’t thousands of other bad men — worse men, even — waiting to fill the void that his leave behind. ) or he could have simply disappeared from kavinsky’s life without a word and figured out a way to explain that to the department later; far less damaging, an easy way to remove the guilt from his own hands, at least until he thought about actually leaving, or taking any other action that would put an end to this, and quickly realized that his willpower was nonexistent at kavinsky’s side, if he ever had it in him to do anything but fall in deeper.
when the walls started closing in faster than he could do anything about, his only choice was to come clean, to at least give kavinsky a chance to get out. even that didn’t go how it was supposed to. everything’s even more difficult now that he knows kavinsky cares the same way he does, another door opened that he could have stepped right through without consequence, except that there had to be at least a scrap of integrity to his side of what they have, even if that means it’s about to crumble to ruins.
he sits on the edge of the bed as directed — not exactly meek but void of the ebuillance he’s found himself casually wearing these past months — too far away to reach out and touch, not that it would be a good idea to even try. all traces of affection are gone, frozen out by calmness that sets his teeth on edge more than the gone on kavinsky’s hip or the two men outside. figuring out how he’s ever going to earn kavinsky’s trust again is second to the question of whether or not he’ll be alive long enough to do it. nikolai doesn’t think that kavinsky would hurt him, not seriously, anyways, but he’s never before been the both the cause and the conduit for the anger ( and pain ) that he knows is concealed beneath the surface.
he takes a breath and meets k’s eyes deliberately, certain to think about the impact of each word, “ not everything has been passed along, ” it’s beyond embarrassing to admit out loud — even to kavinsky, with all everyone knows he’s done but no one can prove — that he’s morally spineless enough to have let his mess of feelings get in the way of doing what he was supposed to do. worse than being a cop — he’s one that can’t do his fucking job. that much is obvious enough, he can only hope it’s clear why. kavinsky is one of the most prolific criminals on the coast and no one even knows what he looks like; he’s too smart not to have noticed something wasn’t quite right, with all the inconsistencies and stumbles that he wasn’t quite smooth enough to cover. you want to trust me. you have for this long.
“ you can have the burner phone i’ve been using — it’s back at my place — ” large parts of what he sent was barely true, or a stretch of the truth. his handler is still under the impression that nikolai’s contact is the kid he met his first few weeks here. “ i wouldn’t have said anything if i wanted you to get hurt. ”
there it goes, the cold composure he thought he'd keep, that he always keeps, even when he saw his father keel over with a hole blasted through his skull, even when he had to take out the men that had mentored him instead, even when he let go of lives he had nurtured and kept by his side like the most loyal dogs. kavinsky is calm in the face of chaos and that is what gives him power over it, what makes him less-than-human, more-than-king. he has seen and done things that would make grown men crumble, and this shouldn’t be new but prokopenko lays out his cards and kavinsky explodes — uncharacteristically animated, violent and frantic, a savage animal provoked unto blood.
in one motion, kavinsky jumps up from his chair, indignantly, leaning in close, towering above prokopenko on the low edge of the mattress. he has no way of giving his anger air, but the sight of him completely out of control must be intimidating enough; there is no telling what he will do in this state. this uncontrol is not in the calculated, hedonistic way of the host and the savior, or even the moody semi-reality of the dimly lit twosome talks in his office, no — this is the nightmare only hinted at, the underlying truth to all the threats. kavinsky himself is only lead by the anger, pulled along by the leash he should’ve kept secure, powerless against its force.
“ don’t lie to me, man! ” he growls the warning, and it sounds almost, almost like laughter is twisted tightly into his voice like a piece of barbed wire, acid and bitter and hot like bile in his throat. it makes him sick, every minute alone he’s been convulsing like cramps and shaking like fevers and feeling his insides churn like nausea, and it all crawls up right underneath his skin in this moment, when prokopenko looks like he is telling the truth. rat bastard. every man and woman folds eventually under kavinsky’s cold gaze or the cold steel of his weapons, but someone had to outwit him at last. is he so well trained, to withstand every test of loyalty and flesh-deep inquisition? or is he just this cold, living truth and lie interchangeably with no distinction? one cannot expect guilt for lying, kavinsky manipulates much in the same way, but the things they have done, the secrets confessed — to what kind of person would all this be worth it if they valued their own life more than kavinsky? it drives him crazy, this cognitive dissonance he has no way to make sense of. that was the reason he came, that was what he was going to get. but prokopenko looks tired and crumpled and he speaks like he means it, and it doesn’t make sense.
“ don’t you fucking lie. you want me to believe that the feds just put you in danger for the hell of it? there’s gotta be something you have, else they would’ve called you back months ago. ” he is loud, and he doesn’t like that he is. prokopenko can surely taste the panic, the sheer disbelief, and it is what in turn will give him power. even with his hands bound and kavinsky’s gun in his face, the interrogation is no more than an admittance of defeat. this much is undeniable — he must get out of prokopenko what he can and then cut his losses, every second wasted is a second closer to complete doom. “ come on proko, ” this is where his voice finds its calmness finally, leaning closer to the other’s face and grabbing it tightly in one hand, burying his nails in prokopenko’s cheeks and blowing poison into his breath. “ just tell me. don’t make this harder for yourself. ”
fcrgery:
prokopenko listens thoughtfully, as if each word is a gift, the curiosity on his face giving way to caution just enough to make the latter visible. killing is a given in this world, and the list of deaths kavinsky is suspected of doing himself or suspected of being in some way responsible for is too long to bother memorizing. killing another crime boss to take his place at the head of the beast falls perfectly in line with what should be expected of him. it’s impersonal, tactical, easily justifiable in pursuit of his goal. but killing his own father — that’s pretty disturbing no matter what angle you look at it from. there’s no need to hide his hesitation, because anyone half as normal as he’s pretending to be would find the revelation shocking.
he doesn’t shy away from kavinsky’s gaze, though, only breaking from it to glance down at their hands for the brief moment that they meet. his mouth creeps into a grin, sly and teasing, that just about covers the sharp twist of GUILT he feels when he says, “ i know i’m only here because you like me. ” and maybe that’s not entirely true — he has made himself useful in whatever ways he can, or kavinsky probably wouldn’t pay him any attention at all — but ultimately, it’s kavinsky’s show.
“ you’re so young, ” prokopenko is poised to continue as if he was going somewhere with the observation, leading into a question, perhaps. instead, he takes a sharp left turn even he wasn’t expecting: “ my dad is dead too. ” a nervous laugh betrays his quickening pulse, his hands bracing against his thighs as if he’s wiping something off of them. it isn’t that he’s afraid of being caught in a lie — he hasn’t disclosed much about his family to kavinsky yet — it’s just too vulnerable, far more honest than he’d intended to be. “ i didn’t kill him, though, ” he says, reminding himself that just because what kavinsky is saying is convincing doesn’t mean it’s true. he meets kavinsky’s eyes again, a look of earnestness inviting him to elaborate further, “ you’re pretty unique for that part. ”
they’ll never know just how much blood his hands are covered in, kavinsky certainly makes sure to keep them painted red — a warning. but he’s as much a visionary as he is a killer, a provider and a protector first. his reputation is as much shield and advertisement as he needs, the true statistics nobody needs to know. not even the feds will ever be able to prove him anything — he is a fortress dressed in white. prokopenko is being let in slowly, door by door, fortified wall by fortified wall. he’s not afraid of the things that he sees and kavinsky doesn’t care. he is just waiting to lock the doors behind him.
his serpent eyes linger on prokopenko though, his inquisitiveness left unmasked but unexplained. there’s a keenness about the other that goes unnoticed, the way that his observation seems unsuspecting, almost innocent, certainly incapable of deducing the cruelty and threat lazily hidden in the shadows surrounding him. in the way he talks, though, shines, through oblivious questions and out of the blue observations, his quick reasoning and sharp intuition. this is one thing that kavinsky likes about him, and he likes that he noticed, and that prokopenko can hang unspoken words in the air and kavinsky will still catch them. you’re so young. you’re so strong, you’re so callous. but i know you better. i know there’s more. yes, kavinsky truly likes him.
“ there are worse fates, ” a knowing look finishes the sentence ambiguously — is he talking about the killing or the dying? he ends this line of conversation with a shrug, it rolls like a wave through his shoulders as if he lets them rather than leads them, a motion expressive enough. “ if there’s one piece of advice i can give you: get rid of what holds you back. no point if there’s no use. of course, ” kavinsky leans forward again, in closer to prokopenko, seemingly grinning at the thought sharing with him this priceless advice “ you have to know what it is that you want. you know, don’t you? ”
Agnès Varda - Jane B. par Agnès V. (1987)
audaciiae:
@prophezeiung
“Richard, what are you doing up so early, hm? I didn’t take you for much of an early bird.” As Francis says this, he peers down at Richard over his glasses, a grin on his face. He usually isn’t, either, but he hasn’t been able to sleep. Anxiety is a terrible thing. Even without that, he’s been reading too much of Medea and Agamemnon and all these other great tragedies. They give him strange dreams when he reads them right before bed.
Still, Francis sits down next to Richard on the porch, tilting his head as he regards him. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Honestly, I’m a helpless cook, but there’s cereal in the pantry if you want any. But still, I wonder, what’s got you up at this hour? Is there something on your mind?”
the new day breaks impossibly early without leaving the chance to break with the last one. where the alcohol usually lulls richard into dreamless sleep, this night it made him restless, gave kicks to his feet and roundabout roads to his thoughts and then left his body without warning, leaving him awake and wandering. the spring morning fog turns anything beyond the garden patches into blurry blots, and the porch he sits on is slightly damp, but the cool air feels soothing and his legs too heavy, so he holds out here.
francis’ quiet footsteps only get through to richard as he’s already sitting down, the delayed reaction from his part comes down to only a surprised look. as awake as he may feel, it’s impossible to shed the exhaustion.
“ nothing, really. i just didn’t get around to sleeping, i guess. ” he smiles this accommodating smile he has, apologetic for not having an answer and grateful for being heard anyway.
even though the artificial distance between him and francis has long faded, these days alone feel much different from when they are with the others. he turns to meet his gaze.
“ what about you? have you slept yet? ”
𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.
→ joseph kavinsky
spice: either cumin or just straight up salt, white grainy & burning :) weather: dry heat that makes the asphalt flicker colour: wifebeater white, satin red, bruise purple sky: bright white magical power: reality manipulation shoe: black leather adidas house plant: idk, venus flytrap? social media: old facebook or youtube probably makeup product: nail polish remover candy: sugar coated licquorice fear: the dark ice cube shape: crushed ice method of long - distance travel: car roadtrip or astral projection art style: surrealism historical period: the dark ages bitch mythological creature: like a nightmare demon incubus or something piece of stationery: that sticky strong-smelling white-out liquid three emojis: 😎👹🚦 celestial body: the sun bitch
tagged by: @fcrgery tagging: u when u see this <3
𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. you never know how things are going to work out. but if you keep an 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 and an 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, I promise you will find your 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲.
𝐖𝐀𝐇𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐆. selective ind. multimuse featuring original characters from eternals and canon characters from legacies, fear street, dc and others, as predicted by nici.
which one of my characters are you?
click here to find out :~)
eos, birdie and sunshine in this dress up maker :3c
WHICH UNPOPULAR ARCHETYPE ARE YOU?
marty graves / the loyal
it’s a good thing you’re so patient. you know what it’s like to feel the full weight of doubt bearing down in you. for years, it tried to squeeze the life from your lungs. but nothing’s going to make you bow. you kept the candle’s flame alive. you whispered the names at nightfall. the vigil still lives inside of you. one day, the waiting will have been worth it. all your love is going to come home to you. you’re more important than you know. you’re still the one true believer. / / personality: calm, level-headed, stubborn / / counterpart: the accomplice
tagged : @siennabook
tagging : @fightwing / @unphantasmal / @audaciiae / @celestiel / @mythae
i keep thinking of this
which one of my characters are you?
click here to find out :~)
sainthey:
[ SC : A PRIMER FOR THE SMALL AND WEIRD LOVES BY RICHARD SIKEN ] ; @prophezeiung / for birdie
“ things happen all the time. things happen every minute that have nothing to do with us. ”
“ you make it sound like there’s nothing to do about it. sure, it’s not worth getting upset about shit we can’t change, but... we’re still here. we still have agency. ”
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐃?
birdie / your god is the earth itself.
you are a child of the universe. the stars smile on you and the breezes whistle by your window only to remind you how you are loved. god to you is a parent and a friend and everything and more. go, my sweet child. do what you know you must. run into the wind and measure the mountains and sing the river. you are the world and the world is you. praise nature and praise your lord. [i of the storm by of monsters and men]
TAGGED BY: @sainthey ty this was so good!!!!! TAGGING: @celestiel / @audaciiae / @zukunftsvision / @wahrsagung / @lumincense
HOT VS CRAZY SCALE
You are 100% hot, 100% crazy, which places you in the danger zone.
Danger Zone: People in the Danger Zone are physically attractive and often seductive, yet they’re also unpredictable and volatile. They may be mysterious and intriguing from a distance, yet relationships with them often veer into treacherous territory. Unsuspecting men and women are often lured into romances with people from the Danger Zone, yet (according to the theory) relationships with them are destined to fail. Many people in the Danger Zone are in fact crazier than they first appear. Some are good at hiding it, and, in general, people give the benefit of the doubt to people of their level of attractiveness. Some followers of the Hot-Crazy matrix believe that relationships with people in the Danger Zone are liable to end with cars getting keyed, tires getting slashed, and law enforcement getting involved.
tagged by: @fcrgery tagging: @unphantasmal @siennabook @wahrsagung @fightwing
