GIVE ME WINGS, GIVE ME WINGS.

𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒.

[sinsuerte]

.☘︎ ݁˖ 𝐕𝐀 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐒, ― independent, private, selective OC: 𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐄𝐋, best seen in the shade and in the dark corners of the eye. Signal best in Horror and Supernatural spaces. ― 𝐏𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐀 𝐅𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐀. ₊⊹ ⁀➴ witnessed by ᴊɪᴜᴛᴀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ carrd / ♫ / aes

Visit Original Link

. . . picking clovers with @soursoil

. . . tying the fascia for @sluaghter

. . . watering lillies for @rottine

𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐄𝐋 —

.☘︎ ݁˖ A flickering, fleeting energy. A something that struggles just to exist, tethered to this earth by pain alone with no way home. Best seen in the shade and the darkest corners of your peripheral. If you're lucky you can find him with your television antenna, wandering the analogue waves.

Inspirations: Twin Peaks (specifically Fire Walk With Me). Possession (1981). Old Mexican Cinema and TV. Valle Verde. Local Latino theater experiences. Memories. Experiences with Mexican Femicide in my family. Gnostic Hidden Gospel. and LOOSELY. inspired by the Catholic Religion.

^^^ YOU WILL SEE THE HARLEMMY.

[angelicdewdrop]

[end0skeletal]

The Tingidae are a family of very small (0.08–0.39 in) insects in the order Hemiptera that are commonly referred to as lace bugs. This group is distributed worldwide with about 2,000 described species. 1. Azalea Lace Bug 2. Sycamore Lace Bug 3. Rhododendron Lace Bug, Hawthorn Lace Bug

[nobrashfestivity]

Yutaka Matsuzawa. Untitled (White Circle Collage). c. 1967

more

[sinsuerte]

motivation ⬆️

inspiration ⬇️

how do i fix this -_-

[kyotoprotocols]

[sinsuerte]

bg3 screenshots:

and yes nudity incoming

ghe stupid gay text in my way..... PISSED!!!!!

i finally made the effort to upload my screenshots to a flashdrive :)

[meezer]

bro last night was a metaphor for penetration

[sinsuerte]

thanks drupi69 for letting me share this lemuel type song

i miss actually being able to upload audio </3

[sluaghter]

No one has ever wanted him. His body absorbs this invasion, glowing at being adored and squeezed through his habit. His brain rapidly sprouts new pathways for such indulgences.

his hand on your neck. his lashes are long like the stretch of a light year and swan feathers. he smells of roses and bitter clovers. it’s happening, as inevitable now as old age and the death of your mother. you wonder what he feels like wrapped around you.

he looks at you with foreign clarity. he sees you.

Lemuel cries. More of them gel in his eyes and lose their fight against gravity, streaking down his cheek in little meteor strikes. The world has conspired against them. First with monastic vows. Second with armor. Nicholas’ body lights up, and his blood undergoes transmutations. Lemuel palms at his belly.

trees sway like the air over asphalt and silk ribbons. the sun setting to the west. he will pull the robe over your head, pressing kisses down your chest, and you will learn things like how to hold a man’s waist—and to be human. you never knew you could feel this.

if you let it.

Lemuel fishes his head in, stamping their foreheads together. The tent shudders, disturbed by a breeze, and Nicholas latches both hands along the side of his jaw, overcome with a profound and oceanic loss.

“I won’t teach you to take what I give.” Their cheese cloth bedding traps the heat of his breath. Nicholas holds him, hard. “Lemuel, I wanted you to take.”

This brume of metal separates them, now smashed against his chest. His body needs to squeeze and to be squeezed, only the ship is sailing. He will experience heat death. He has tucked a knee between Lemuel’s legs, and this is how it has always been, like his parents, and his childhood, and prayer—everything dies before he’s ready. Lemuel’s face is damp against his palm.

“Now I’m afraid of losing God,” he says. “And you’re afraid of what you are.”

[sinsuerte]

⠀⠀⠀𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞. Lemuel fears himself more than any other. It is blasphemy, he understands this. He should fear God. Instead, he is a slave to Fear before he is a servant to God. Elohim, Am, El, OLAM, YHWH, Heavenly Father, Saklas—whichever God commands him will not have his genuflection. Lemuel has known God. He is cruel, sadistic and heavy handed in His wrath. Having mistakenly known Him by the name of Fear, Lemuel had for so long failed to recognize their difference. It is Fear who drove him to defect. Away from OLAM’s army, Fear follows him still. Heavy is Its presence, ever demanding and stringent.

⠀⠀⠀Fear is a jealous God and Lemuel has never been Its obedient devotee. For Lemuel loves Nicholas before Fear, before God, before Kings and Angels.

⠀⠀⠀“What you say is true.” His voice is ever tender with Nicholas. As brass dipped in gold, every layer of his words are steeped in warmth. “I fear myself, but not more than I adore you.”

⠀⠀⠀Blinking through tears, he holds the other’s gaze. He is made of clay, ruin and carnage. He is suffering incarnate. His request is far from humble—he knows what he is. He has little right to ask for this much. Still, he fixes his lips to Nicholas’ ear.

⠀⠀⠀“Will you take me as I am? Would you desire a beast that starves and wails? A beast that lays waste to the land before it? A beast that knows little more than anguish and terror? I ask not for your pledge, but for your consideration.”

⠀⠀⠀A sommelier indulges in bitter tannins as Lemuel does with the acrid chenin blanc of torment. The sweet and acid of it intoxicates him. Desire, denial and pain; He can take all of it. His heart will beat in time with Nicholas’ gate. He will cling to him as his shadow, his penumbra and the light that kisses his forehead.

⠀⠀⠀“I will take what you give me.” Lemuel confesses. “Give me your torment. Deny me, abandon me, scorn me if you wish; I will not forsake you. I will not forget you. Angels are given perfect memory, heedless of advantage or detriment.”

⠀⠀⠀He presses their temples together. Denial is anticipation. Anticipation is ecstasy. Lemuel wants this torment. He wants all the torment Nicholas can offer him.

⠀⠀⠀“I would like to bare myself to you, if you should want to see it.”

⠀⠀⠀A second breeze brings a tremor to the tarp over their heads. The beast writhes beneath flesh. It rumbles. Purring or snarling, he knows not. Its vacuous head rams into bone in increasingly erratic tempos.

⠀⠀⠀His heart throbs out.

⠀⠀⠀Dame tu tormento, corazón mio. Mátame. Desnúdame. Harás conmigo lo que quieras, y yo estare aquí esperando tu orden—Soy tu esclavo. Tu devoto.

⠀⠀⠀The Morpho menelaus spends its life with its wings folded. Baring its sapphires only for an instant, they close themselves off to the world when they have matched. They die knowing no other. Lemuel will live and die by his devotion.

⠀⠀⠀La carne de mi piel será mi sacrificio eucarístico.

[sinsuerte]

get to know lil ol me......

nickname(s): juju/little juju (via hien ^_^), my gf calls me the super secret nickname kochi >_<⁠♡

zodiac: all i know is leo sun and aries moon :)

last movie i saw: horse money (2014)

last thing i googled: horsey money LOL

favorite musician: gulp.. it depends on the genre.. but i like massive attack, devendra banhart, the gazette, system of a down, my chemical romance, tarkan, LISA (jr&b artist), bonnie pink, tchaikovsky, michael jackson, britney spears, luis miguel, leslie cheung, black kirin, SID...

song stuck in my head: scream by michael jackson and janet jackson

other blogs: erm.. (poses shyly) maybe... @kirikosensei is the only one that i use once in a while other than this blog :)

do i get asks: yes >_< I still have to comb through my inbox

following: some aesthetic blogs

amount of sleep: i been trying to get my 8 now that schools out but i wake up a million times every night with varying levels of success getting back to sleep... so idk..

lucky number: 3, 5, 25

what i’m wearing: snoopy sweatshirt from uniqlo cuz im on my jammies hehe

dream job: stuffed rabbit, person in a cute mascot costume

dream trip: china (guangzhou, shanghai i do want to see changcheng too), hongkong, indonesia, thailand, taiwan, singapore, da vatican, mexico again ^_^

favorite food: taiwan style braised pork....

play any instruments: violin, viola, piano and guzheng if we're being generous

languages: english, (mexican) spanish, and a bit of mandarin

favorite songs: look at my artist list.... how am i gonna pick a normal amount... but rn im really into jam and scream by mj ofc..

random fact: i cracked my head open twice and am the only person i know to have broken my clavicle LOL

describe yourself as aesthetic things: too many phone charms, a cluttered room full of color and trinkets, a blue sky with white clouds or a rainbow, banba or amekaji gyaru since i am one :)

tagged by: @laperlina

tagging: @soursoil @rottine @silverwoodcursed @ofaglarond @drachnslayer @riftward if you want ^_^

[sinsuerte]

Visit Original Link

[sluaghter]

@sinsuerte art by utm//bug

[sinsuerte]

im done with the semester :) lets cheer

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waoh... deity sexism

[sinsuerte]

Lemmy is so plum......

[soursoil]

-`𖤓´- 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖔𝖆𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖎𝖗, and here, together, they lie: a monk and his lamb. his lamb, not a garden but a riotous wood. a wretch the life-fearing kirk would deem fit for the stake. they would see him killed... but never see him die. he fills their folklore. he is the beast beneath their beds, for lemuel's lamb has fangs. lemuel's lamb bites. a lamb not of christ's flock but from a much darker pasture-- a pasture no man has ever set foot in. his lamb forces the earth itself out of its order, twists it to his liking as if it were nothing more than a silken ribbon. his lamb is a lover. his lamb is a monster.

his lamb will never let him go.

nuada casts a sort of radiance down upon them, paints the scene in strange, dream-like yellows, and harlon's vision swirls. he yearns and he aches. he wants-- even with lemuel right here against his side, pressed closer than anyone ought to be. still he shares him even now, with the bugs. with the abbey. something deep inside him bucks, something hot and heavy and hooved. his hand twitches, has half a mind to pluck the butterfly up and liberate the hopeless fool of its powder-white wings: my beloved is not yers to touch. yet the feeling passes as quickly as it comes, ushered away by lemuel's summer-sweet laugh. by the touch across his jaw. he cannot bear anger in the presence of an angel.

❝ you would wed this wild thing? what of yer order? i may just eat you whole in my greed... my hunger. i've never been fond of sharing, aingeal beag. i do nae deny myself as you monks too often do. ❞ as lemuel sweats, harlon smiles, untouched by exhaustion, unfettered. he stares at his sweet with such intensity that his glasses themselves-- tiny, perfect mirrors-- seem to shimmer. ❝ perhaps i shall have yer brothers too, yer abbey, stone by stone, every scroll of yer holy scripture. would you still wed me then? ❞

a fool's question. he already knows what lemuel will say-- imagines they both do-- yet he asks all the same, just to hear lemuel admit it. he would do well to make him squirm and blush, fawn and fold.

[sinsuerte]

⠀⠀⠀𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐞𝐥’𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. Gloomy but never lifeless, hot sparks fly beneath the surface — volcanic, disastrous. He shifts in his cowl. His body now weighing heavier over the other. The fabric between them shields very little, nothing more than kindling for their fire.

⠀⠀⠀“And if I gave you everything?” His voice softens and lips curl. “Am I, alone, too little for you? Certainly, you will hunger for more.”

⠀⠀⠀Broad hands smooth over the creasing of red robes. A distant thrum ripples beneath his fingers—the sun radiates beneath the weave. Each ray marks him with pinhole photographs of their desire. He will recall the sound of this man’s breath and the velvet of his flesh in the dead of night. With his hands willed to his sides and eyes fixed to the ceiling, he will grit his teeth. Stroboscopic images of a lamb shaped man contorted in pleasure will project over his eyelids. “Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One,” He will cry out. “Have mercy on us. On the world.”

⠀⠀⠀A lone cicada begins its yearning call not far from them. Its tymbal organ begs, whining and hoarse. Lemuel’s voice joins with its din.

⠀⠀⠀“Very well. You shall have it.” The Angel croons. “A bride of your value would expect an ample dowry. Of that I am certain.”

⠀⠀⠀“Have me.” He sighs, all but begging. “Liberate me of this burden. Make me yours so that I may serve you alone.”