⠀▇▇⠀ ⠀ 𝚝𝒉𝒊𝒔⠀ ⠀ [𝐜]ᴼ͟𝙣𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝙞on⠀ ⠀ h͟a͟s⠀ ⠀ 𝖒ᴱᴬᴺᵀ⠀ ⠀ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆
⁰¹ . ⁰² . ⁰³ . ⁰⁴ .
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
taylor price

blake kathryn
🪼

if i look back, i am lost
almost home

oozey mess
hello vonnie
h
No title available

Origami Around
Color Me Curious
sheepfilms

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
untitled
NASA
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!

No title available

Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
$LAYYYTER
seen from South Africa
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seen from Morocco
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@wallstrt
⠀▇▇⠀ ⠀ 𝚝𝒉𝒊𝒔⠀ ⠀ [𝐜]ᴼ͟𝙣𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝙞on⠀ ⠀ h͟a͟s⠀ ⠀ 𝖒ᴱᴬᴺᵀ⠀ ⠀ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆
⁰¹ . ⁰² . ⁰³ . ⁰⁴ .
hopefully getting tickets to see the american psycho musical next year and i am absolutely going back to the american psycho cocktail bar in manhattan because i loved it the first time. and yes of course i will be wearing my 19-69 american psycho perfume that i somehow managed to buy even though it's always sold out... can we get any more american psycho than this??? idk!
𝑭𝑨𝑿 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑩𝒀 ﹕ PINKMAN, JESSE !
❝ 𝚆𝙷𝚈 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝚄𝙲𝙷 𝙰 𝙳𝙸𝙲𝙺 ? ❞
𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚃𝚆𝙾 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙻𝚈 𝙱𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 ? doppelgangers , two peas in a pod . it doesn’t help that patrick was clearly coked up and has maybe ( he can't remember ) taken a valium or two , judging by the way his hands were trembling in the pockets of his pleated luciano soprani trousers . because of this , and because of the obscene heat , he keeps seeing sean’s stupid face atop @pinkman’s . worse yet , in some angles , the faces seem to blur together and become one distinct , MISERABLE PERSON . some kind of fucked up 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚢 from his nightmares .
hell on earth , that’s what this all was . the southern sun blazing high above their heads , and dirt and sand caking his cole - haan loafers , everything about albuquerque seemed to be set on punishing him . probably for dressing like he was still living in manhattan . or maybe because he had DECAPITATED an old woman last night , for no reason at all , and this was just god finally punishing him for enjoying the way they all seemed to cry before they met 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝙳 .
when his BROTHER speaks , he can hear the beginnings of a chain smoker’s voice starting to take form . the pointed question landed flat . jesus , he really had to stop smoking . or not . in fact , it'd be better if he didn't . if he managed to ( somehow ) die before patrick did , he wouldn’t have to deal with the 𝙳𝚄𝙼𝙱 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙳 anymore . ❝ LISTEN SEAN— ❞ he begins , fingers feeling around the silk lined pocket to see if he could find an ibuprofen he could take for his killer migraine . nope , no dice . when he looks up , he sees jesse glaring at him from his peripheral vision and does a slight double - take at this slip - up . ❝ i mean , uh , jesse . ❞ he corrects himself , fixing the slightly sweat stained collar of his cotton oxford shirt from giorgio correggiari .
❝ 𝙸'𝙼 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝚃 𝙾𝚄𝚃 the way it is . you know , in the real world . ❞ right about now , an eavesdropper could have accidentally perceived patrick in a positive light . someone brotherly , someone giving well - meaning advice to the impressionable youth . but the fact of the matter was that jesse's almost the same age as him , and he certainly didn't need advice from the deranged serial killer gus fring somehow thought was suitable for work . ❝ let's be honest here , YOU LACK AMBITION . you don't do anything . am i supposed to lie ? tell you that you're doing well for yourself ? you're a drug dealer for christ's sake . ❞
⠀▇▇⠀⠀𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ﹕ PLAYLIST⠀...
a short list of songs that are associated with or 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙸𝚁𝙴𝙳 your muse !
⠀♪ PRIVATE EYES, daryl hall & john oates. ⠀♪ SOMEONE FOR ME, whitney houston. ⠀♪ TELEPHONE, diana ross. ⠀♪ SMOOTH OPERATOR, sade. ⠀♪ EVERYTHING SHE WANTS, wham! ⠀♪ PROMISES, PROMISES, naked eyes. ⠀♪ BILL, talking heads. ⠀♪ TRICK BAG, teena marie.
𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 : @backlotvideo , thank u so very much :^) 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙶 : @yuorhonor , @dbdarko , @inhunt , @unforgivable , @09011989 & you!!!
hi.... harvard era patrick repost... he's wearing casual clothes!!! pinches his cheek
𝐉ay finds Mr. Bateman in a moment between trespass and enthronement, and there are, let me tell you, few sights more obscene than a man looking perfectly at ease among the private papers of another man. There he is: business tycoon, immaculate in oxfords kicked up upon the mahogany of Mr. Gatsby's desk, with old papers that didn't belong to him and a drink close enough to imply leisure. Patrick occupied the stolen room with such immaculate composure that, for one disorienting instant, Gatsby himself appeared the intruder. The office around him Gatsby's office, or James Gatz's office, whoever he was right now, the inner chamber where ledger and correspondence conspire to keep his legitimacy stitched over this little empire of his. Here were the less photogenic organs of Jay Gatsby’s rise to success: ledgers sleeping beneath locked drawers, names arranged in columns beside numbers that might purchase loyalty, silence, liquor, or blood. Behind Jay, beyond the broad dark frame of the door, the party goes on in all its brilliance, but in here? This might just be a standoff. [ If you were to look at Jay then, you might think him cool as the lacquer on his desk, an effigy in a cream colored suit with champagne in his hand.] This is Gatsby. But he hears his real name fall from the others tongue, and Gatz panics underneath the skin. His heart has gone wild in his breast, a rabbit who has looked up from the clover and come face to face with a bear. [ Saint and sinner do indeed meet somewhere in that moment. ] “ James Gatz? You’ll have to forgive me, old sport. ” Faux-curious little tilt and apologetic smile, as though Patrick has offered him the wrong card at a dinner table. “ I'm sure I don't know what you mean. ”
THE WEST EGG, [ 22∶36 ], ⠀ ⠀GATSBY'S OFFICE. @wallstrt SPEAKS, "I CAN'T ABIDE A POOR LIAR." ©
The scaffolding underneath his empire is, remarkably, made of contraband and the old indestructible hunger of a poor farmer's boy. “ ... poor, is it? ” He says. A beat follows, a little silver pause thin and lethal. Gatsby pursed his lips, shrugs with almost playful mildness. He appeared to consider the word with faintly injured interest. “ Then, I'd guess you're in luck. Why, a fella like me only fills his home with extraordinary liars. ” At that, his gaze traveled briefly toward the corridor behind him.
There they were, his extraordinary little liars, well-drank and well-dressed. Somewhere below, a woman was calling a man by the wrong name. Somewhere below, a husband was removing his wedding band before taking her by the waist. Politicians who shook hands beneath tables and businessmen who washed blood from their money until it smelled faintly of lavender. This was how the beautiful lived They came to Gatsby’s home with their sins powdered pale and for a few incandescent hours, lived free. Free and extraordinary. By morning, the lawns would be littered with broken glass and people with twisted fabrics, but morning was not now.
Though, of course Patrick does not mean those liars, and Patrick probably knows Jay knows it, and Jay knows Patrick knows he knows it, and so the room begins at once to thicken with rich and unpleasant atmospheres. The liar is this man in the doorway with his smile arranged just so on his empire, one he grinded to produce as Rome was not built in a day; neither was West Egg's gilded little miracle. It was built in all the less sightly materials the American dream claims to not touch. In retrospect, Jay has risked everything for this life, this spectacle of self-creation. Risked too much to have it all brought smoking to the ground by another stuffed shirt pro, he'll be damned if he'd let it. The merry smile appeared then, sudden and uncanny and changes the subject. “ Well, now! It seems you've gone and wandered a stretch too far out of the way, haven't you? ” Yes, of course. [ Mr. Bateman had simply gotten lost, of course. This is the out Jay offers him, he is almost certain he will not take. ] There was something dreadful in the ease of it. He gives a quick cant of his head toward the laughter and brass beyond the door. Surely there are other entertainments more suitable to a man like Patrick Bateman, surely there were ladies that could be interesting enough waiting downstairs for Patrick Bateman. “ Why don't we rejoin all that revelry, get you back to the music, huh? You wouldn’t wanna spoil an otherwise charming evening, now, would you? ” The host attempts a return here, charming and pleasant. As though they were old friends suffering a misunderstanding near the coatroom. Gatz, poor ugly earnest Gatz, the farmer's son with all that raw timber ambition beneath his skin.
𝙷𝙴'𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚈 , 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃'𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙴 . this was something , a little party trick patrick had been taught . an ability to detect outsiders since he was a boy , those who were not like him . ❝ mister gatz ! ❞ he flashes THE INTRUDER a show - stopping , HOLLYWOOD SMILE . all cary grant , all paul newman . making gatsby feel like he was the stranger -- the one who did not belong . sitting amongst sheafs of papers that were not his to riffle through , perched lackadaisically atop an expensive velvet chair , j . m . weston cap - toes resting atop the opulent mahogany desk , ( maybe a henry dasson ? ) patrick had made himself at home . and he has the gall to avert his gaze , to rest his vacant eyes on the document he had been mulling over , paying the 𝙶𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃 no mind . gatsby or gatz , it didn't matter . he'd been dealing with these types for most of his life . SMOOTH TALKERS , snake charmers , wolves masquerading as sheep . he wasn't the bateman before harvard , no longer willing to give second chances . here , in this office , were they not also just a wolf &. a sheep ?
the financier simpered , curl of his lips evidence of amusement . ' 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚜 . ' they were jay's first honest words of the night . ❝ well let's not play coy , SHALL WE ? ❞ smooth as the finest of silks , practiced fingers move to pull something out of his breast pocket ( it's a custom italian cut loro piana number ) . an expensive cuban cigar , then another . he handed one cigar to his pal after chopping off the tip with a fine silver guillotine cutter in a practiced motion , A PEACE OFFERING . the monogrammed zippo was flicked aflame , poised in hand and used to light the tip of the puro nestled between his white teeth . and wordlessly , the lighter is tossed to jay . bitter tobacco fills his lungs . ❝ you sure do seem to have a lot of overseas assets . 𝙳𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙸𝙵𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙵𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙾 ? ❞ he teased him the same way you'd poke and prod at a sleeping bear to see what it would do . has the gall to reach for the tumbler of scotch and take a nice , LONG SIP . ❝ but this is a little sloppy . ❞ pointing at a particular smudged mark on the page . it's likely that jay was starting to pick up what patrick was putting down . well , there was no need to mince words . 𝙰𝚄𝙳𝙰𝙲𝙸𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙻𝚈 , he finally pops the question , ❝ might be getting played by your accountant , mister gatz . perhaps you should consider hiring some [ ... ] outside counsel ? ❞
“I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.”
American Psycho (2000) dir. Mary Harron
here ah am in the junky’s limbo; too sick tae sleep, too tired tae stay awake. a twilight zone ay the senses where nothing’s real except the crushing, omnipresent misery n pain in your mind n body. ah notice with a start that ma ma’s actually sitting on my bed, looking silently at me. 𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗵'𝗺 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀, 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝘆 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗵 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹.
fuck it we ball i'm just gonna hardlaunch the multi rn i need to stop overthinking... mutuals who like horror and crime and and stephen king books and deranged women and sean bateman should follow @spatblood :^) i'm gonna rb prompts there today so plsplsplspsl send them in for anyone ur heart desires, just keep in mind that it will be super low activity until i gather all my thoughts. however i am always open to plotting, here and there!! and patrick will always be my primary blog and main focus <3
when are we as a society going to talk about how patrick bateman is whitney houston's #1 fanboy and canonically has a crush on her. like down real bad too it's not even funny. down bad enough to glaze her for 4 pages straight in a chapter literally called 'whitney houston' oh ok... and i'm sure he has a poster of her too and it's FRAMED btw he doesn't just hang up posters on his wall without a frame 😒
⠀▇▇⠀⠀𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚎 your muse with shitty 𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖𝐒⠀...
𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 : stole it from the dash ;) 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙶 : you!!!!
this is my most favorite moment in the book like truly i never stop thinking abt this. patrick being an insufferable piece of shit and sean the deadbeat getting a fucking reservation at dorsia before him GENUINELY making him lose his mind to the point where he starts repeating his thoughts manically will never not be funny to me
okay as much as i love christian bale's acting maybe there's an alternate universe where we got to see patrick be more of an expressive crybaby loser on the big screen. he is SO much more human in the book and so very robotic in the movie, like an alien trying to mimic human behavior. book patrick and movie patrick are extremely distinct from one another (and so is tim price btw!!!!) but in a way, the differences do represent the two sides of the patrick bateman coin?? masking/camouflaging bateman as christian bale and #1 crashout bateman like in the book 🤔 now that being said, i cannot think of anyone other than bale who fits my vision of patrick (specifically, how i see him physically) so maybe i'm just saying a bunch of bullshit rn
✱˚。⋆ ↪ JUST ONE, I'M A FEW — NO FAMILY, TOO. WHO AM I ? ( a collection of dialogue & action prompts from bbc america's orphan black, season one. adjust gendering / phrasing as desired. )
yeah, i'm back in town.
i wanna see [ name ], okay?
well, that's not fair, is it?!
oh my god, you look.. like crap.
this long, no see? you don't get to know.
you have no idea what that costs me.
i wasn't talking about my cut, i was talking about my pride.
you've been gone for almost a year, [ name ]. i'm not judging, just saying.
i'm not judging, just saying.
oh, you robbed her body.
you can do better.
what the hell is wrong with you?
look at me, you understand? look at me!
use it, or hang it up, okay?
do not snap towels at me, [ name ], i had a very traumatic childhood.
get in the car, damn it! we're late!
suddenly you don't give a damn, i get pissed.
now, you had better be ready. are you ready?
you're sure as hell overdressed.
what, were you out all night or something?
i know this shit is as hard as it gets, but you gotta stop making it worse.
"fashionably late", you called it?
stick to your statement and you'll be fine.
i panicked, what do you want me to say?
where's your wit gone?
you haven't called me dipshit all day.
i know this thing's got you all twisted up, but you've got to forgive yourself.
[ name ], i know you're in there! open the door now!
it's not coming back to you?
i'm not sure i should say anything at all.
i don't want to talk about [ name ].
you need to talk to me about that moment.
feels like she's lying about something.
deep down, we all hope we're special.
the last thing i am is special.
oh. you're disappearing again?
weren't you coming back this weekend?
i got sick to my stomach, i basically puked on them.
what did you do to your hair? ... it's longer.
why are you such a dick?
first, though, you need a shower. and a xanax.
just keep away from me!
your partner. he was following you.
[ name ], where have you been?
there's blood everywhere!
holy shit, it's true ... that someone is killing us.
you need to get rid of the body.
uh ... how about you come help me?
for starters, you're a drug dealer.
of course not, you think we'd let that happen?
i don't ... nothing, i don't want to talk about it.
that's my one bit of good news.
is that so much to ask?
bastard must've followed me and nicked it.
okay, let's not go off ... [ name ], [ name ] !
how long can you keep gaming the cops?
what the hell are you doing?
i'm worried you're losing the plot again.
sorry, i've got a lot of work to do.
you're not ready for this, you need to take more time.
is that a diagnosis? cause i've got plenty of professional help for that.
i can't keep waking up at night, checking your breathing.
i knew it was too good to be true.
why would you help with such a stupid plan?
that was when i drew my weapon.
i'm not dirty, i just freaked out.
i'm not going to play [ name ] in the middle.
i'd do it all again, [ name ].
cut the shit, [ name ], and tell me where it came from.
yeah, i was gonna leave town, but i turned around.
are you wearing a wire?
if there's another version of this story ...
there's only one story, [ name ].
run me through it again. so i know you won't crack under questioning.
if they dig, they'll find the pills.
i wouldn't do that, [ name ].
i can't help myself.
— then why would you even ask?
because ... i told you to.
i'm gonna hang onto that money until you're cleared.
why would you go in my room?
the sink is broken, what the hell is wrong with you?
are you out of your mind?
idiot. do you even know who you're talking to?
i don't care who you are.
please just tell me ... who are we to each other?
are you kidding me? i'm not doing that.
you need to get out of here.
let go, don't touch me.
hide your ugly face on the way out.
i'm making progress, full progress.
what i'm trying to do is move on.
that's not gonna work for me.
does that sound stoned to you?
you have constantly tested me.
since you apparently already know where i live, come by after 9.
knock quietly.
come on, [ name ], give me a little love here.
why do you have to be such a hardass?
you know i never would've got in if you said we're going to the suburbia.
don't stop, someone might speak to us.
my skin breaks out every time we come downtown.
oh my god, who's in there?
[ name ], you always do this to me!
i don't do "backup", i don't even know what "backup" is!
close it, lock it.
you point a gun at me again, i'll kick the living shit out of you.
what the hell were you doing here?
seriously, it's life or death.
you can't just ignore it!
-> ACTIONS :
sender is aggressively banging on receiver's front door, demanding entry.
sender begs receiver for their help in faking sender's death.
sender seduces receiver in order to distract them.
sender has discovered receiver's secret life, and confronts them.
receiver catches sender as they're trying to skip town.
sender tries to seduce receiver in order to make them stop investigating.
sender arrives to receiver's place drunk and injured.
sender calls receiver for help getting the blood out of their car.
sender starts a physical fight with receiver in a sensitive environment.
receiver must cautiously evade sender, who thinks they're dead.
receiver gets a cryptic text from sender asking to meet in person.
sender and receiver return to their hotel room only to find it trashed.
sender is caught following receiver, and receiver confronts them.
sender stands between receiver's loaded gun and a third party.
sender accompanies receiver to a doctor's appointment.
sender leverages receiver's addiction/s against them.
sender witnesses something traumatic, immediately going to receiver.
sender holds a fake funeral for receiver, which the latter watches at a distance.
sender and receiver meet in a diner for a sensitive discussion.
sender finds receiver's number in a strange phone and calls it.
Confusion - New Order // New York locations // 1983
𝑭𝑨𝑿 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑩𝒀 ﹕ KLINE, MARY !
❝ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙻, 𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚈𝙾𝚄 ? ❞
𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝚈𝚁𝙸𝙲𝚂 𝚃𝙾 'back of my mind' repeat in his head . it's the title track of christopher cross's 1988 album . to the slow tune of soft synth pads and shimmering electric piano chords , the lyrics go something like this : and the cards fall as they may , all the chances i didn't take will be just one more thing in the BACK OF MY MIND , 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 --
[ ... ] he can't hear the sound of his own voice as he speaks , not over the music . just feels his mouth move strangely &. slowly , sounding out the vowels of words he could not discern . and he notices the way her facial expression doesn't shift . 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝙰𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝙻 ? he is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that there had been no music playing , and the feeling of sweat cooling on his forehead . a careful hand moves to pet the back of his head gingerly , a self - soothing gesture intended to make sure his hair wasn't falling out of place .
her question goes unanswered . this was a common occurrence . he would often zone out , staring absently at the space above her left shoulder , ( or sometimes her right shoulder ) @revnants would repeat herself , and if she was lucky — she'd get a proper response . despite this being their third session , getting patrick to say anything of actual value was like pulling teeth . his throat is cleared after a few minutes , soft noise filling the dead air . UNCOMFORTABLE , and shifting nervously in his seat , he laughs weakly and refuses to give a straightforward answer . ❝ 𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚆𝙴 𝙰𝙻𝙻 ? ❞ says the world's shittiest patient , the world's sickest man .
there is no soothing silence , not with the methodical ticking of the wall clock . he can feel , deep beneath his skin , each robotic click of the second hand as it moves . it doesn't miss a beat . one , two , three ... the passage of time , or perhaps the repetitive nature of the noise , eventually begins to make him 𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 . at first , fingers stroke tentatively at the pulse on the wrist , beneath the jacket's cuff ( it's a valentino uomo pinstripe wool blazer , single breasted ) . when the clock continues to taunt him , perfectly manicured nails dig into tanned skin and start to scratch . finally , he asks a question of his own . ❝ aren't you going to ask about my family ? my [ ... ] parents ? 𝙼𝚈 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁— ❞ the words are spat out CAUSTICALLY , as if they were physically painful to utter . brother . the unassuming noun leaves him a scowling , perturbed ( but still good looking ) mess .
close to the knives, david wojnarowicz