#sangxinis

[matryoshkakiller-archive]

*  @sangxinis​   !!

               “YOUR  ARTWORK  IS  INTERESTING,  Mr.  Whittaker. Eto  dovol'no  zdorovo.  I  have  not  seen  anything  like  it.”  Marble  walls,  red  velvet  drapes  &  furnishings  smothered  in  lacquer  gold  is  the  pakhan’s  typical  idea  of  aesthetic  value;  anything  that  screams  to  the  heavens  of  wealth  and  riches  is  right  up  her  alley,  as  well  as  anything  ONE  OF  A  KIND  or  an  oddity.  She  enjoys  unique  pieces,  things  that  stand  out,  catch  her  eye.  What  lend  her  to  the  American  was  rumours  of  an  artist  who  went  so  far  as  to  cut  his  own  flesh  for  his  medium,  to  use  the  red  within  his  veins  to  paint  his  masterpieces.  Suffering  is  not  pleasant  ----  she  knows  this.  But  sometimes  from  suffering  comes  beautiful  things.  His  artwork  is  directly  an  example,  as  is  her  very  life.  

              Christian  Louboutins  clack  upon  the  polished  flooring  as  she  allows  her  gaze  to  drink  in  the  framed  canvases  hanging  around;  the  man  has  raw  TALENT,  absolutely,  and  the  woman  likes  what  she  sees.  Turning  to  finally  look  the  artist  in  the  eye,  crimson  lips  curl,  a  flash  of  pearly  whites  --- but  don’t  be  fooled  thinking  it  is  of  courteous  nature.  She  is  a  wolf  bearing  her  fangs.  “My  name  is  Ms  Vostrikova.  I  am...  interested,  in  commissioning  piece  from  you.  Perhaps  even  three,  if  possible.  Price  is  no  issue.  I  have  few  questions  however   ---  do  you  only  exclusively  work  with  your  own  blood?  Or  could  you  be  persuaded  to  use  the  blood  of  another?”

[derfilmemacher-blog]

* @sangxinis . ) ❜

          “AH! GRÜßE MEIN FREUND!” He had not been expecting company... but Fredrick is always a pleasant surprise when unexpected. The film maker’s eyes light up, obviously pleased to see his artistically gifted company, and shifts to gesture to the seat opposite himself, using his thumb to save the page of his novel, other hand occupied with a gently smoking cig. “Please, come sit! How are you?” This is a favored place of the director’s to come, and act as if he is just as human as everyone else that swarms these city streets, marching ants of the colony. Little to their feeble, stupid minds, lacking true insight or imagination, there are quite a few creatures like Kubrick stalking them from their very sides, brushing elbows with their stupid fleshy shells. There are many monsters within this world that are lurking in human skins, flayed and tanned and adorned like suits, to mask the monstrosity of their truths. These creatures are perhaps the best actors of all, and the ones that appear the most human. Ernst is one of them, and almost all of his associates are, too. “I believe you had a new art piece put in a gallery, ja? I am sorry I missed it --- my work commitments, as of recent, have been... hectic.” And his body count as high as ever.

[derfilmemacher-blog]

@sangxinis:

Another taunt, another beating from their so called leader. Fred had retreated from the set of Ernst’s latest video deep into the woods. A tree on which he could bleed and use the blood to draw a frowny face in the soil.

“I’m going to kill him.”

              “We. We will kill him.” If there’s anyone else who is sick to death with Halcyon’s behavior, it’s Ernst. It takes a great deal to send him ROUND THE TWIST, but Steve manages to do so almost daily now. He needs to be put back in his place. Given the boot. And the German has a good idea how.

              “He is reckless, Fred. Stupid. We must deliver what the French call, coup de grâce. A blow of mercy. A blow of mercy to his stupid ego. And I know how. And it is going to hurt him. But he deserves it. For he will hurt you. More than physically, if we leave him to fester. So we must cut down the tree before it gets bigger.” He makes to sit next to his friend, place a hand on his shoulder. “We have Desmond do something to Jenny. Steve boats of how he shall hurt Adele. But let him have a taste of his own medicine. Let it be one of his own.”

[bogisms-blog]

@sangxinis

The scent of blood was thick and rigid, like a heavy cloud that permeated over the whole of the area. Of course, it was just a regular walk in the park for the Bogeyman, who knew that scent so well it was practically woven into his entire existence. It made no difference to him, so much so he almost did not notice it. However, as the monster made his way along the shadows and edges of reality, the smell did draw him out for further investigation. 

A sniff of the air drew the beast to search in further, cloak swept around him in a bundle to keep him most interested in finding the source of it all. Perhaps an easy meal or a play thing.