death too must be earned

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 ?

[stillknd]

u guys why no one told me it was SNOWING in rdo 🥺

[aqua-regia009]

Allegory of Vanity (Details), 1632-6. by Antonio de Pereda y Salgado

[corona-light]

Visit Original Link

Lo Dudo | Los Panchos

Hallarás mil aventuras sin amor, pero al final de todas, solo tendrás dolor. Te darán de los placeres frenesí más no ilusión sincera como la que te dí.

[tragerdy]

          𝙸        𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙺        𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂 ,        AS        SHOULD        WE        ALL ,        BUT        I        WILL        TAKE        𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑮𝑬 . 

[sidereusimber]

VANITAS STILL LIFE

A vanitas is a symbolic work of art showing the transience of life, the futility of pleasure, and the certainty of death, often contrasting symbols of wealth and symbols of ephemerality and death.

Vanitas by Antonio de Pereda I Vanitas Still-Life with a Bouquet and a Skull, Adriaen van Utrecht, 1642 I Vanitas-Still Life, Maria van Oosterwijck (1630–1693) I Great Vanity, Sebastian Stoskopff, 1641

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

“Sometimes the current is so strong that you can never go back to who you used to be, even for a visit.”

— Don Winslow (The Kings of Cool)

[stillknd]

wiiaca: william ❛ i don’t know who i am anymore. ❜

❛ Yes, you do. ❜ Ismael’s voice was surprisingly quiet, as if he were letting him in on a secret. In truth, he knew quite well that feeling, that sense of wandering, straying too far from one’s own path, drifting with the tide, lost. One day you had your entire life figured out, safe, a clear point in the horizon to guide you forward, the next someone turned off the lights and you found yourself standing in the pitch black. It could be quite terrifying, many froze, staid in one place, unable to move in any direction, perhaps feeling they might fall through that void of darkness. Ismael learned quickly the trick was to let your eyes adjust to the darkness.  

He leaned back on his chair, eyes studying William’s face. Greedy eyes taking in every twitch of the eyes, every look, every muscle that moved involuntarily, his own face remaining as still as a painting. Even now he would let nothing out, nothing given away for free. Everything came with a price when it came to him. Still, his words sounded far more honest than anything else he had said to him. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t trying to charm, he was simply making a point.

❛ The problem is you’re still trying to hold on to who you used to be. You need to let that person die.❜   he lifted his cup of coffee with a knowing look and took a sip, ❛ You can’t be him, you can only be yourself. ❜

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

❛ i didn’t know where else to go. ❜

❛ i’ll never be that me again. ❜

❛ you can still be good. ❜

❛ i thought you’d be here. ❜

❛ don’t act like you know me. ❜

❛ because i care about you, okay? ❜

❛ it wasn’t supposed to end like this. ❜

❛ i was scared. i thought you had lost your way. ❜

❛ am i supposed to just let you go? ❜

❛ you deserve better than me. ❜

❛ don’t make me do this. ❜

❛ i’m not who you think i am. ❜

❛ you don’t mean that. ❜

❛ please just hold me. ❜

❛ i don’t want to understand, i want you to stay. ❜

❛ and why should i care? ❜

❛ you look awful. ❜

❛ i can’t do this without you. ❜

❛ don’t let me lose you too. ❜

❛ for what it’s worth, i really am sorry. ❜

❛ it’s not your fault. ❜

❛ i don’t know who i am anymore. ❜

❛ is this the part where you kick me out? ❜

❛ don’t we deserve to be happy? ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

❛ you can’t save everyone. ❜

❛ it was a nightmare, that’s all. ❜

❛ it’s just a scratch, don’t worry. ❜

❛ you know me better than i know myself. ❜

❛ don’t go where i can’t follow. ❜

❛ you’re better off without me. ❜

❛ we all die alone. ❜

❛ people get hurt if they get too close to me. ❜

❛ i hate what i’ve become. ❜

❛ i’m not going anywhere. ❜

❛ is there anything i can do to help? ❜

❛ i don’t even recognize you anymore. ❜

❛ who did this to you? ❜

❛ please don’t leave me. ❜

❛ oh, now you care? ❜

❛ don’t come any closer! ❜

❛ i missed you so much. ❜

❛ you don’t have to say anything. ❜

❛ do you want me to leave? ❜

❛ why are you avoiding me? ❜

❛ you could have died, you know. ❜

❛ i wish you were here. ❜

❛ you’re not alone. i’m staying right here. ❜

❛ i can be your family. ❜

❛ of course i’m here. where else would i be? ❜

❛ we just can’t seem to get it right, huh? ❜

❛ don’t look at me like that. ❜

❛ don’t push me away again. ❜

❛ this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. ❜

❛ you’re leaving already? ❜

❛ this was a mistake. ❜

❛ can’t sleep? ❜

[stillknd]

@sunbentsky​​: patrick #77 spotify wrapped

❛  You see, in the end, I will be, what I will be. ❜  there was a kind of resignation in his voice, an acceptance of sorts, a man who had silently been battling demons for most of his life, finally realising there is no wining that fight. He made the deal long ago with those same demons for the chance to do exactly what he was doing, getting even. Pretending to be someone he’s not, still holding on to a part of him long dead, it’s just a kind of hypocrisy he can’t abide, a brand new type of cage to match the old one. He tried living by their rules before, tried being a good person, tried living lawfully... within reason. And what did that get him? Erased, like a blotch of dirt.

❛ You’re a good man Patrick, you should probably leave, ❜ he looked at the man who’d become part of his crew, in many ways they were a mirror, both disgraced, both strayed from the original path they had picture for themselves. But they had ended up so utterly opposites from one another.  ❛ This is no place for good men., ❜

[stillknd]

tragerdy​:

    *     CRUZ.      :      “      if      you      find      yourself      in      a      hole ,      the      first      thing      to      do      is      stop      digging.      ”       ⁽     @stillknd .     ⁾

❝      what      if      digging      is      all      you      have  . .      ❞                  a      promise   ,      a      heart   ,      a      lover's      bones.      broken      yet      abundant ,      she      had      plenty.     

this      man      before      her      that      she      had      only      met      in      person      tonight  ,      his      face      on      the      front      page   ,      plastered      all      over      town.      eliza      had      seen      cruz's      little      show   ,      and      he'd      seen      her      watching.      curiosity   ,      that      fuel      to      discover      and      learn.      not      much      of      that      could      happen      amongst      so      much      anguish.            ❝      that      you      have      to      see      it      through.      ❞

Ismael knew well what it was like to live with that kind of obsession, there was no other word for it. It wasn’t justice, it wasn’t duty, it wasn’t even the blood red anger of a moment. This was fully fleshed righteous obsession, or worse, the despair of someone with nothing left to lose. Those were two kinds of dangerous people, and he was both of them. He wasn’t entirely sure on which category she fell.

❛ Then you better use that hole to bury whoever took everything else from you, ❜ a spark of amusement in his eye, as well as a shine of recognition. Call him sentimental but part of him wanted to see her win, someone had to,  ❛ Just make sure to find yourself a way out, it isn’t truly a revenge if you don’t live to savour the victory. ❜

[theoptia]

Odysseus Elytis, from The Axion Esti

Text ID: Yours the blood and the tears, / The eternal strife, horrible and magnificent, / Yours the lure and the beauty.

[stillknd]

who allowed him to wear glasses

[sidereusimber]

Quotes : Jonathan Safran Foer // Albert Camus // Donna Tartt // Donna Tartt // Friedrich Nietzsche // Edgar Allen Poe // Rainer Maria Rilke //

Art: 2. Adrian Ghenie // 4. Heinrich Gogarten // 5. Henrik Aa. Uldalen // 7. Michel Voogt // 8. Erika Seguín Colás // 9. Yanjun Cheng // 13. Henrik Aa. Uldalen // 14. Chris Veeneman // 17. Henrik Aa. Uldalen // 18. Maurice Sapiro

[starrover]

“I am what you designed me to be. I am your blade. You cannot now complain if you also feel the hurt.”

— Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

[stillknd]

hisheist​.

      Even if his fingers had snapped- which thankfully they don’t- Andrés would not have produced a sound; not even a defiant snort or peevish remark. He relaxes, breathes steadily and patiently awaits more, anticipating some kind of pain. Again, nothing comes. Again, disappointment. In any other case he would write it off as a weakness - all threats, no action - but he imagines this to be different. His benign air has little do with a reluctance to punish and everything to do with him wanting Andrés to cooperate. However, he observes a different flaw; a trace of a weakness in the way he asserts himself. No man is truly untouchable and he’s better off knowing that. “Being touched is beneath you, eh? Pity.” He bows his head like he’s been defeated, but the sly grin remains on his lips.

     “Very well, since you insist on formalities,” he pauses, calmly retreating his hand, “I’ll have to insist on you calling me De Fonollosa.”

   He resists a strong urge to roll his eyes. The performance he had just given had been nowhere near child’s play, and they both know it. It stings, he’ll give him that. Insulting a man’s art is stooping low, but he nevertheless appreciates the game they are playing. He raises his eyebrows at the next, humored by the notion of Ismael taking a man’s life to set up this little trap: “I can’t even picture you hurting a fly,” he practically purrs.

   Then, definitely seeking the boundaries of his own luck, he leans in closer again, hovering a few inches from the other man’s ears. He glares up at him still, his eyes dark and hawk-like, alert. “Let’s cut the chase, shall we? What is this job you’re beating around the bush about?” He pauses, as if the thought has only just hit him, “Oh, and don’t think I like being played like a fiddle. I don’t have your patience.”

Ismael didn’t even flinch, his hazel eyes as transparent as a concrete wall. It seemed that just as he could fabricate emotions, he could completely erase them, turn himself into a white canvas. Let him see there what he desired, or what he feared. Because yes, he had patience, patience had built him an empire. The patience of a stalking cat, waiting in the darkness for the perfect chance to strike. The patience to wait and watch the scene develop, see what new opportunities arised, how the wheel of fate turned.

❛ I have no interest in playing you, I would sooner get rid of you and save myself the trouble, ❜ he shrugged, still not backing up, or looking away. It wasn’t really a threat, more of a show of logic. It did made sense when you thought about it, he couldn’t simply let him walk out of there if he had bested him. Damned be whatever code there was supposed to exist, or gallantry, or honor. There was no honor among thieves, and there were bigger things at stake than whatever game of cat and mouse the two of them had going on. 

❛ I imagine you know who Richard Cargill is. The man is more criminal than the both of us put together... a hundred times more rich too. ❜  moving with that same calm that seemed born from some cold center of him, he opened his jacket to pull out an ornamented envelope, lined with gold, expensive work, delicate. With a flourish of fingers, he placed the envelope in Andrés pocket without even disturbing his clothes, the skillful hands of a thief. ❛ There’ll be a ball to celebrate his beloved daughter’s birthday, ❜  the meaningful look on his eyes said it all. Going after someone with that kind of power was beyond impossible, too much security, too many consequences. But a ball... opened up possibilities. ❛  my guys still lack the finesse required for this. ❜  

[yeap--thatfuckinguy]

[stillknd]

hisheist​.

    There is nothing quite like the feeling of a gun gnawing at your skin and a synchronous rush of adrenaline going through you. The tiny hairs at the back of his head rise in anticipation as he accommodates the threat by tilting back his head and baring his jaw. It reads almost like an ‘welcome, I have been expecting you’  more than anything else. And he has been warned - in fact, multiple people have already told him let this one go - but he is, and will always be, fond of anything that is a challenge.

   “What a pity,” he says, “I am here solely to spoil your fun.”

   Even if his words make it seem otherwise, this is nothing personal. The price had simply been good enough to take the risk and step on someone else’s toes. Andrés knew he could do it faster and so he did - and now it seems he’s facing the consequences. He mouths a silent, ’oh,’ his eyes following the moment of the revolver as it drops - feigning disappointment. Then he produces a wide, mischievous grin, “You know I’d be flattered by your proposition if I hadn’t already successfully retrieved what you came here for, cariño.”

   Then, as if he hadn’t just held him at gunpoint, he precedes to put a hand on his chest, taking a few steps forward - a wordless way of suggesting that now is the time to back off. Move. “Someone ratted you out to me and told me about your plans. They’re not bad, but your timing could have been better.” He speaks matter-of-factly, his voice sickly sweet, calm and without signs of hesitation:

   “I suspect it’s the same fucker who told you about me. Seems likely doesn’t it? Then my question is - who else knows that we’re here and are we both walking into a trap?”

❛ Ay por favor, Andrés, don’t ‘cariño’ me, ❜  he almost rolled his eyes, quite unimpressed at the display of bravado. Jesus Christ was that what it was like talking to him? No wonder people tried to kill him so often. ❛  Don’t be so shortsighted, you’ll break my heart, ❜  a hand rested on Andrés’, gently, almost lovingly, it was kind of eerie the way he could transform his face, from the mask of hatred to something soft, innocent even. He could have fooled a priest with those wide eyes. Born for the stage, that’s what his father had said to him once —  ❛ Then what would be the use of you then? ❜   The hand closed like a trap, twisting his fingers backwards, not really hurting, simply a warning. He had a reputation to protect after all, even if it was just the two of them, specially if it was just the two of them. It was all good and fine if he invaded people’s space, but no one could touch Him without permission, that was not how it worked.

He looked him in the eye, a beat, two. Neither was intimidated and they both knew it but they still had to dance the dance, play their respective parts. He had found out the criminal world was just as much filled with formalities as the high society. Sharp words and puffed out chests, two cocks flaring their feathers before they could get down to business, it was boring really, but it had to be done.

❛ This is but child’s play, I’m talking about a real job. ❜  he let go, a smile curving his lips, nothing had been won, nothing had been lost, not really. There might still be time to deal with Andrés if he became too much of a problem, but if he had proven something tonight, was that he was better than the rest of those amateurs out there. Someone who could actually challenge him, he could put that to good use, if it could be harnessed. It was sort of like playing with fire, but hadn’t he always lived for it? The danger of it? The higher the risk... greater the reward. This was not a land for the tame of heart and he had never in his life been tame. ❛ And do you really think I’d let a rat live? ❜