seen from Türkiye
seen from Yemen
seen from Türkiye
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from Croatia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Croatia
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Finland
seen from Bosnia & Herzegovina
seen from South Korea
seen from Argentina
seen from South Korea
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seen from Russia
ㅤ❝ 𝐨𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞. ❞ it's a simple half scoff, matched with a quick roll of her eyes. arms left crossed as she leans against her doorframe. ❝ if you're going to blatantly lie to my face at least make it interesting. ❞ she neither invites him in, nor slams the door in his face, despite her debating to. there's something off about you, jonathan . . . i will figure out what it is. ❝ how about you tell me what this is about? 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? ❞
＊ starter for @obsessher
empty coffee cup is discarded as she enters . . . her fifth of the day , and it isn’t even noon . anya has been avoiding sleep ever since the news broke . in all fairness , the fact that she found out over text didn’t exactly help -- though it should have been expected . their father never has been good at the whole emotion business . bell dings , and the click of heels comes to an abrupt halt as soon as she sees the table display to her right . sister’s face sits atop stacks of green , sold to feed the people’s morbid curiosity & fill the pockets of whatever publisher had picked it up .
her jaw sets , and the blonde tears her eyes away , searching instead for him . guen had mentioned joe a few times in passing -- he may not know much , but every lead is worth following . throat is cleared , and she steps forward with tired gaze and extended hand . “ joe ? i’m anya . anya beck . ”
sc : @obsessher
────────────── bare foot taps against the hardwood flooring on a cluttered living room ; courtney no longer considered this place to be home , no longer found joy in the trivial nuisance of a life that she’d built for herself within the confines of california’s narrow streets ( the life that she’d built for rachel kindsley , an identity built for herself after the death of her mother , but courtney had been juggling so many identities lately that she struggled to remember her own ) . there’s a gentle groan from her captive as he slowly comes to ────── she’d recognize that face anywhere , the latest and greatest of love quinn’s admirers . like all of the others , @obsessher would never be good enough for her sister ; she’d escaped to europe to get away from her own obsession , to create a better life for herself as a new and improved woman , but that bitch candace had dragged her right back into the centre of it all .
❝ 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 . i’d apologise for the restraints , but i’m pretty sure you should be the one apologising for breaking and entering . ❞ los angeles accent eases into speech as though it had never left , silk mask slips over features as robe is draped over lingerie - clad figure ; there’s a lack of tenderness as she pushes joe to his side , as figure drops to a slow crouch beside him . ❝ i have no desire to know what you intended on doing to poor amy with all that shit in your bag , but i’m certainly glad that she won’t find out . ❞
♥’d
ㅤ𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, clipboard held tightly in her grasp as she takes in a deep breath in preparation. she's seen the file on this man, it's something thick, filled with horrors. is this a good place to start? a way to test the waters as a psychiatrist? another deep breath. oh, ophelia, what have you gotten yourself into? & just like that the door opens, she slowly comes to enter. brave faces, everyone. ❝ sorry for the delay, mr. goldberg. there's been quite the series of hiccups this morning . . . i hope i didn't keep you 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐? ❞
＊ starter for @obsessher
@obsessher asked : you’re a crisis of my faith.
felicity clings to words of comfort as if they are life preservers thrown to her , even when they’re carelessly tossed in the general direction of where she’s been drowning for the past twenty eight years . her friends seem completely unaware of her daily struggle . in truth the women aren’t quite deserving of the title friends : a group of paper dolls playing pretend together , dinner party after dinner party and girls night after girls night . for all the time they spent together , felicity heavily suspects none of them are actually very fond of each other . they had no more say in their friendship than they did in their finances : such is the fate of wealthy men’s wives . the weight of the diamond ring on her finger grows heavier & heavier with every passing day , though the cracks in her facade are hardly visible to the naked eye .
her friendship with the bookshop clerk had caught her off guard . even though it wasn’t illicit to make a friend , deep down felicity had a feeling it would be leading to something like this —- and worse , that hugo would be blinded with rage if he knew she was spending time with someone he hadn’t introduced her to . but joe was sweet & attentive when she was around , and that alone was enough to upset the delicate balance that upheld her life . his hand was placed light as a feather over her own , his murmured sentiment accompanied by a look that seemed to pierce right through her . for a moment , she’s rendered speechless by the tender gesture , struck by the oddly poignant phrasing . poor felicity : with no defense for kindness , the conflict she’s feeling is clear on delicate features .
‘ at the end of the day , faith is all we really have . ’ it’s spoken like an apology , her hand gently freeing itself from his & settling instead in her lap , two carats of prison chains glittering on her left hand . she can’t seem to hold his gaze , blue eyes ultimately landing on the floor as though she’s ashamed . of what , exactly , she’s not sure . perhaps it’s because she knows full well that there were worse situations to be in than a loveless , neglectful marriage —- and a foolish part of her still desperately hopes that someday the tide will shift , & she and hugo could be happy again . as a child felicity was always left last in hide - and - seek because everyone knew she would wait : now , like deja vu , she sets her table for two every night for a man who is hardly ever home . ‘ i’m sorry . ’
📂 !!
𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍.
𝐀𝐑𝐓.
This is actually something I’ve been building on for a while. I’ll probably release a more extensive post exploring this idea. Crane actually does enjoy art. He isn’t impressed by skill or composition, but an artist’s ability to digest and communicate certain subject matter in their work. When he left home, he took several books with collections and reprints detailing different artist’s work. That being said, he avoids galleries and installations because he, usually, finds artists insufferable. He claims most of them have a “ certain vanity more offensive than that of the wealthy or entitled. ” While he’s a passive observer of the visual medium, he’s out of touch with contemporary movements and trends.
a few examples of artists and work he finds particularly compelling are: Laurie Lipton’s Series, The Sleeper’s Reason, The Illusion of Brainwashing, Weapons of Mass Delusions, Empty, and Lockdown. He owns reprints of Francis Bacon’s various works, Peter Ondreiča’s “Man With a Mask” and Francisco De Goya’s “Black Paintings.” Ken Currie is currently one of his favorite artists.
Unsurprisingly, he gravitates towards visual representations of fear, violence, insanity, and the ego.
Bryan Lewis Saunders’ “Under The Influence” series inspired him to administer patients small doses of his drug and ask them to express their experience through illustration. Over time he’d increase his patient’s exposure to his fear inducing compound and keep a visual record of their progression into insanity. He keeps all of his patient’s creations — whether they’re small sketches or sculptures, though rarely looks at them.
i’ve never seen teen wolf so i’m learning more about allison as i plot and write with you, but your replies are SO thoughtful and you put so much love into your writing and characterization!!! your headcanons are mesmerizing and it makes me tempted to start the show 🥰🥰 literally 500/10 i adore u
what is one thing you like about the way i play my character?
meg!!! i've been staring at this for days now in my inbox and smiling a ridiculous amount. this means so much coming from a writer i admire so much. i love learning more about each other's various muses through plotting with you and i can't wait to continue to do so. this is so incredibly kind. thank you and i love you so much!!
@obsessher said . . . “ okay , i swear this is not what it looks like . ”
bloodied hands. a freshly used shovel, still teeming with dirt. the way in which he scurries his way back from the depths of the woods, looking over his shoulder with every step. it all paints a picture that she's all too furious with herself for not being able to stop.
she wasn't entirely certain of his nature from the get-go. joe appears nice enough on this surface, sane enough as a front — but her instincts have been honed over the years. he's not the typical sort of threat she fights — no, he's decidedly more human — but a threat is still a threat. it's her fault for dropping the ball on tailing him when a pack in crisis reached out, needing her assistance in argentina for the week. he couldn't cause too much trouble while she was gone, right? wrong.
" what have you done, joe? " allison finally replies, hands planted firmly at her sides where her ring daggers are sheathed, " who have you hurt now? "
