Claire Keane
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we're not kids anymore.
JVL
JBB: An Artblog!
if i look back, i am lost
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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
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DEAR READER
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pixel skylines
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Kaledo Art
AnasAbdin
ellievsbear
RMH
Xuebing Du
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@roguisms-blog
HIATUS NOTICE !!
hey guys!! i’m still alive, but i’m ON HIATUS until i am done with NaNoWriMo (which is going to be a lot sooner than you might think since i am almost at 30k and it’s only a little over a week since it started. i’ve just been working on this dumb novel for almost three years now, but the end is in sight and i am ALMOST FREE. bear with me; soon i will be freer than Alexei can ever hope to be.
A Dirge for Leningrad
“A war story is a black space. On the one side is before and on the other side is after, and what is inside belongs only to the dead.”
—- Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless
End of Innocence (Piano Version) — Kamelot // Sariel — Two Steps From Hell // A Sadness Runs Through Him — The Hossiers // Hate To See Your Heart Break — Paramore // Here’s to the Fall — Kamelot // Sonera — Thomas Bergersen // Dust to Dust — The Civil Wars // Everything Goes Dark — The Hossiers // Eria — Two Steps From Hell // Say My Name — Within Temptation // Devil’s Backbone — The Civil Wars // The Black Parade — Seventh Wonder // Start Again — Red // Veil of Elysium (Acoustic) — Kamelot // I Will Follow You Into the Dark — Death Cab for Cutie // Remember Me — Thomas Bergersen // Still Here — Digital Daggers // Rise Above — Two Steps From Hell
@heraldsofruin.
‘ this may be a weird question, but do you know any good CURSES? like, not your run-of-the mill stuff, but really good, unusual ones. i’m forming a collection. ’
myshkas.
‘ — you’re not hitting him hard enough. do it again. … & again, & again. if you have to. ’
‘ if i pull a muscle or break a nail, i’m blaming you. this shovel is damn heavy. ’
@adatrox.
‘ ...do i know you? i feel like we’ve met at some point. ’
@myshkas.
‘ i hit him over the head with a shovel, but the bastard doesn’t seem to want to die. what do you suggest? ’
kapuletov.
The name slipping of his lips made Yuliya hold her breath for just a moment anticipation freezing her form in place. But as the man began playing his song, the melodies begged to be danced to never before heard, yet the notes somehow seemed to be awfully familiar, as if heard in a dream, the catchy tune you can never seem to remeber correctly. And yet he played just like so, bringing memories Yuliya did not know she had, making things that seemed mere details significant and bright.
There was a dreamy smile gracing the girl’s lips, head slightly tilted to side she could not help but not tear her eyes of him. When the music stopped, she felt like being woken from a pleasant dream, but there was still a grin colouring her cheeks pink. At last, the young lady turned in a swirl of skirt, thus performing a little dance of excitement.
❝ Not your best work? Oh, Saints! Everyone in this country would sell their soul to play like you do. Alexei, now you must promise this is not the last we meet for if it would be so, my heart would suffer, surely! ❞
‘ well, my lady, i would like very much to promise you that, but i am afraid i rarely stay in one place for very long. ’ the strains of the violin still bled into the air, still pressing an ethereal imprint upon them. a truth he knew was that music was a living thing, thrumming through every person’s veins; rhythm was born into every creature, and to mimic life was the greatest power one could possess. it was the only power within his grasp, now.
his own life was forfeit now, his soul sold over to the devil. whatever pale shadow he still possessed, he wished only to share through his music. he was a vessel, the tongue to carry the tune. the rest was smoke on a breeze, the lullaby from childhood that you could never quite remember.
that was all he could be, because the devil had swift feet and a swifter hand to deliver his judgment. to leave others wanting in his wake would be the cruelest punishment, so he ran. ‘ but i would never seek to cause such a lovely girl suffering, surely. if there is any way i can put you at ease, i’d be delighted to do it. ’
approximately 0 people are going to be online right now but.. IM BACK…
LIKE FOR A STARTER !
myshkas.
‘ poor me, indeed, ’ she scoffs. ‘ – — & poor candidates is putting it lightly. you were the only one that was nice to me, those days. i didn’t have much a choice. do you remember chaim, from rakhya ? he used to put worms in my stew. although, perhaps i should have thanked him for that. it certainly would have added some much needed nutrient. ’ there’s a table by the window, & she sits with a view of the door. it’s habit, by now, ever watchful of what threats may enter her life. when she dreams of that day – the day her childhood had been stolen – she’s never facing them. her back is always turned away from that doom, her eyes instead on the ghosts of children who were stolen in another way, an awful way. curly hair like hers, eyes as bright as her mother’s.
bleeding & broken hearts, says he, & she laughs as thoughts scatter out of reach. ‘ oh, but i have ! lucky for me, there are many hearts beating here in paris. i’m rather looking forward to leaving a trail of red behind me like the good russian girl that i am. ’ her eyes fixate on a figure passed her friend, narrowing in the slightest before attention is payed, once again, to the violinist. ‘ what are you hungry for ? no offense, alexei, but you look like you haven’t eaten something substantial since 1934. ’
‘ chaim. yes, i think i recall him. unpleasant little bastard, mousy hair and fingers that were always sticky. i loathed him. do you remember when i convinced him i’d put a CURSE on him and all the girls pretended he looked like a donkey? ’ he chuckles as he follows her lead and slumps into the chair, tilting it back on its legs. the sound of his laughter is warm and buttery like sunlight, like molten gold. she is mercury and cyanide; darkened silver edges, the sweetness of poison on his tongue.
he, too, angles himself within sight of the door. ‘ you know, i might as well not have eaten since 1934. food’s better now that the war is over, but it still isn’t all that good. ’
dxcus.
&& she’s certain now that something needs be AMISS; a collection a collection of mismatched props, a theatricality that seems too ultimately prepared. he puts to mind, UNBIDDEN, the very picture of a russian clown, delicate steps with haphazard smiles. the tilt of her head conveys confusion, anger ebbing back through nothing more or less than being CONFOUNDED. elaborate lie or not, he certainly has a convincing magic to him.
❝ what brings a violinist to these streets? i can’t imagine there’s much of a willing audience from here. ❞
‘ ah, you see, there’s where you would be incorrect. i find that the fundamental flaw of humanity is that it begs to be entertained. i’m an entertainer. no matter where you are, finding a willing audience is dependent on whether or not you know how to seduce one. ’ he taps the side of his nose knowingly, grins. ‘ i’m very good at knowing an audience, and my playing does the rest. it’s not very complicated stuff. entertainment is a distraction from the rest of the world. there are people here who need to be distracted, so here i am. ’
he scrutinizes her with a perception too deep for the façade he has erected. ‘ begging your pardon, ma’am, but you look like the sort who could use distraction, too. that’s why i approached you to begin with, if i may say so. ’
approximately 0 people are going to be online right now but.. IM BACK...
LIKE FOR A STARTER !
audltore.
░▒▓█ roguisms. ║ ☩ ;
⊰ ‘ ❝ le mie scuse , amico mio . i meant not to startle you . ❞ ‘ ⊱
he finds his hands out in somewhat of a ‘ surrender ‘ , unable to contain the smile that vigorously blisters at the corners of his lips , offering a half hearted attempt of a bow - to which he SUPPOSED could be seen as a representation of respect for now . but , he attempts not to continue further with a lacked apology , instead conforming himself to a proper posture &&. then to cross his arms over his chest .
⊰ ‘ ❝ might i ask - have you noticed anything … particularly SUSPICIOUS of your cities’ PEOPLE as of late , il signore ?? ❞ ‘ ⊱
the crowds swell over the streets and flood the nooks and crannies. he THRIVES on the bustle, the brimming rush of bodies like rivers across the cobbles and packed-dirt roads. a city was ALIVE, bursting with an energy that wormed into his very marrow and nudged his bowstring to sing.
he isn’t expecting someone to address him--he comes and goes, ebbing with the tides, and seldom does he go noticed. the man in front of him wears curious clothes, and it catches alexei a bit off guard when the stranger bows to him.
‘ these aren’t my people, i’m afraid, signore. ’ he adopts the italian accent easily, the sound of it bubbling off his tongue. ‘ but i see strange things wherever i go. peculiar things trail me like a stray, you might say. why do you ask? ’
@myshkas.
‘ i’m not going to bite your head off. ’ unless you give me a reason to, is what she doesn’t say ;; unless you want me to. a she-wolf ! her old friend was more right than he may have realised, or perhaps she isn’t giving him the credit he deserves. her fangs have grown sharper in the years between now && then, it’s no stretch to say his mind has, too. always such a clever creature, he’d been. it’s no surprise at all – with that in mind – that he survived the war, && all that has come after it. ‘ i don’t think i could. you’re far too pretty to be headless, m— alexei. ’
she smiles, almost guiltily for the slip-up. it would take getting used to, this little change. not that she’ll really have to bother for any longer than a day. it is for the best this way. there’s a reason she has no friends, && it’s not entirely due to her uncuddly nature. ‘ we got out – – && i have kept busy. it’s no simple thing, for a mouse to become a wolf, after all. ’ she won’t go into details, of course. she can’t. evelin likes the way he looks at her. she doubts he’d look at her so fondly if he knew how many heads she’d really bitten off, how many she would continue to.
‘ why, you really have grown into quite the charmer, though, haven’t you ?? serenading ladies on the street, almost bursting with these compliments … you must be very popular. ’ she pokes him, gently, before pushing open glass doors. god, she could use of coffee. ‘ if i were still a girl, i might be jealous. i think i was a little in love with you. ’
a little in love with him. oh, how cruel the world was, to thrive in the give-and-take (and take, and take, and take). life was a joke, and he may as well laugh. time would wring the air from his lungs sooner or later. there was much to her little perceptions,
his palm catches the door as she passes through it, feeling nothing more than a benevolent WRAITH of bygone times. he is a ghost of her past, a mere shadow flickering through the periphery of her present. ( isn’t that the truth, though? how many times over should he have died? he does not belong in her present any more than he deserves his own. )
a charmer, she said. well, his mind had always been quick and his tongue quicker. it’s more habit than honesty, more the knee-jerk compulsion of his trademark cleverness tugging at his leash, snapping at his heels. charm it may be, but from less a genuine place than she deserves. ‘ poor you, ’ he quips. ‘ a shame you had such poor candidates when it came to affection. tragically, a scoundrel is hard pressed to change his ways. this dear old violin is still the only real contender for my heart and soul. ’ but who is he without the facade? who is he without the posturing, the whip-quick retaliation of his tongue? ‘i should be saying the same for you. i’m sure you’ve left your fair share of bleeding and broken hearts in your wake.’ LITTLE MOUSE she was no longer--no, she was a hurricane. there were heavy clouds bursting in her gaze, and there was no shelter to be found in the eye of her storm.
ok friends i know i just got back but now i’m REALLY, 100%, DROPPING-OFF-THE-MAP-ENTIRELY ON HIATUS UNTIL OCTOBER 4TH. i’d thought i was going to reschedule the LSAT but suRPRISE THE DEADLINE PASSED, SO I’M COMMITTED. my life is going to be hell for the next two weeks but i love you all and hopefully i will survive so i can run back to you all with open arms
briisingr.
‘ ah, but i’ve never made TRUE ENEMIES of them, so if an aggravated herd of cattle is after either of us it’s by no fault of mine. which means my foresight HASN’T been proven incorrect. ’
‘ perhaps, but i don’t think they much care to distinguish, and angry cattle move at a really impressive clip. or would you like to argue semantics with a furious bull? you’re welcome to try, at least. ’
briisingr.
‘ no, i can honestly say i NEVER have, and don’t plan to any time within the foreseeable future. ’
‘ ...is that so? then i’m afraid i’ve got some bad news for you, my friend, because there’s a very angry congregation of cows headed this way. your foresight might be faulty. i’d return it for a new one quick, were i you. ’
briisingr !
‘ a question, if i may ! have you made enemies with a herd of cattle lately? ’
