conziergearch

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remade my blog so i have access to the beta editor haha rip. so. if u wanna still write with me after my graduation, pls follow @conzierge <3 no hard feelings if u don’t !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Matthew Gray Gubler and Callie Hernandez in “Moonlight” by Future Islands (2020) (1 / 2 / 3) 

watch the video here!

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If you had come to me, I could have helped you. We could have avoided all of this. Now we can’t. My wife… She has no idea. If you could make it look like an accident. For her. Look out at the water.

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100 days of Raymond Reddington » day seventy-five

What do you want? Well, another spin of the bottle in Melanie Reichman’s basement, but I’ll settle for you.

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Guided masturbation is so hot. Being told how to touch yourself, where can you touch yourself, how quickly can you touch yourself?yes please. Begging to put your fingers inside yourself or even to touch yourself but your dom says no?

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His hand holds you by the throat, forcefully pinning your back against his chest as his other hand inches closer in between your legs. He teases, tracing his fingertip around your hole before rubbing your clit slowly, whispering "who made you so wet, princess?"

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DEX PARIOS | Stumptown – 1.06 “Dex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll”

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TIMOTHEE CHALAMET and TAYLOR RUSSELL BONES AND ALL — 2022, dir. Luca Guadagnino

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         # C O N Z I E R G E ;   an exploration of morality,  coercion,  and betrayal,   featuring multiple canon and original muses within the crime and science fiction genre.   low activity and analysed by lyn  ( 25+,  she/her by default ).   independent,  selective,  and largely mutuals-exclusive ;   emphasis on plot-driven threads and meme prompts.   discord is available for mutuals.   exclusive with proifiler’s rendition of elizabeth keen,   nuseven’s rendition of tom keen,   and daddynow’s rendition of jane smith.

LOW ACTIVITY  /  GRADUATING FROM UNIVERSITY.   you can plot with me on discord @ raymond reddington apologist#8039 ;   highest muse is usually always raymond reddington,  christopher hargrave  ( redemption  &  season 4-5 based ),  peter bishop,  and moa zhao.   current focus :   the blacklist,  star trek,  stargate,  herbert’s dune.  currently reading : children of dune.

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the constant notifications of spam blogs really makes me want to leave tumblr altogether for a while, at least until the spam problem is solved or the beta update arrives for me? if anyone plays elder scrolls online and wants to join me maybe once a week or so, hmu. otherwise add me on discord, i’ll try to be social whenever i’m not extremely busy, burned out, or trying to get some dopamine at the gym

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DEMON-FOX ;   LUPIN DELMONT ,

❝Now is this really the best way to greet an old friend at least have the decency to say ya missed me before holding a knife up to my throat.❞

@conzierge gets a random starter for Moa from Lupin.

                    muscles tense the moment he speaks,   the familiar tone of his voice like a subliminal command to keep the knife’s blade just barely hovering against the skin of his pulse ;   lupin.   she should have recognised him by his scent alone,   the subtle tartness of his blood underneath whisky and cigarettes ――   but whatever pungent dirt clings to him,   to clothes and skin and hair,   it does a striking job at hiding any hints of his true nature.   her voice is breathy and shallow when she finally opens her mouth,          “          bastard.          ”          he’s snuck up on her,   concealed,   in the dark of an alley ――   still,  her anger’s not directed at him.   the knife withdraws from his throat and in one fluent motion,   arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him close.          “          jesus,  lupe,   i could have killed you,          ”          she says when she pulls back,   palms still on his arms.          “          you look like shit,   what happened ?   where were you ?          ”

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HELLWOLFIE ;   MORGAN DELMONT ,

❝It’s not what ya think.❞  They say quietly, unable to maintain their gaze any longer. What would be the point when they had already written them off as a worshipper to a deity who was pure evil, someone they probably thought was worse than the true lord of lies, the devil ━━━ , and they clumsily rub their sleeve over their eyes to catch their tears before they get the chance to ruin their makeup. The wooden statue of Loki they had kept as a centerpiece upon their alter clatters to the floor and lands by their feet. ❝I was goin’ to throw it all away when ya walked in.  I thought he was the god of mischief and a patron for outcasts like myself. I never suspected him t'be the god of evil but he tricked me. Loki tricked me. ❝ 

                    but was he pure evil ?   she doubts it,   doubts so many things with every passing decade ――   silhouette crouches down to the wooden statue,   longer fingers wrapping around its shape and wiping off the dust.   she knows she’s got a judgmental look,   was teased for it all her childhood :   filloup the feral,   filloup who scowls.   it’s a terrible habit she’s never gotten rid of.   the figurine is nice.   part of her wonders if morgan made it on their own,   and despite how persistent the grim expression seems to be,   the corners around her mouth soften at least a little.          “          loki did not have a cult,          ”          she says slowly,   not quite looking up.          “          we didn’t name our children after him or our cities.   he was a troublemaker to the gods,  all right ――   but he was no worse than the rest.   and unlike them,   he stood ―   stands ――    in no relation to us men.          ”           gaze flickers up,   meeting morgan’s eyes,   before she rises and plants the silhouette right where it stood :   loki tricked me.   perhaps.   but as far as she’s concerned,   he suffers an endless death under the shaking crust of the earth.         

“          he’s the sagna hrœrir,   the mover of stories,          ”          and ironically,   in his suffering perhaps not so different to morgan as he is in his behaviour,   but the sigh is kept behind her teeth.   she’s always been too hard on morgan,   she knows ;   even now,   the welling tears wake an instinctively chiding tone that she represses out of love.   the hybrid’s as much a result of experiences as she is herself ;   she’s learned the weak deserve their pain.   it’s hard to unlearn the conditioning,   hard to remind herself that morgan’s not her ――   so it’s with softness that a frown slips over her features as she takes a tissue and tries rescuing morgan’s eyeliner from smearing.          “          he is neither friend nor enemy :   he keeps the wheel of time moving ――   first to prosperity,   as friend of hœnir and friend of óðinn,   then towards ragnarök.   is that evil ?   or was his role merely bastardized by christianisation ?   ――   keep the statue if it gives you comfort.   let others judge.   they’ve done it for millennia.         ”

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moa may take great pride in her name and feel humbled when her partner decides to take it on after marriage, but i can reassure u 10000% that even if she's not the one taking on the name of her loved ones, she will use it for an alias and respond to it anyway <3

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RESNARE ;   JAMIE DAWSON ,

@conzierge .

"       to  us .       "       the  glasses  clink  together  despite  the  initial  reluctance .  jealousy’s  always  been  such  a  stubborn  vice .  and  seeing  everyone  gathered  at  the  gallery  doesn’t  make  it  easier ,  not  when  she’s  tiptoeing  around  who  exactly  she’s  seeing .  couple  months  now ,  isn’t  it ?  everything  was  nice  when  she  was  in  manchester ,  visiting  him .  he  scans  the  faces ,  tries  to  find  tom  whom  she’s  risked  her  life  for .  or  dima .  of  course  he  knows  his  name .  it’s  hard  to  not  know  his  name  when  it  repeatedly  pops  up  onto  her  phone  screen .  the  champagne  tastes  sour  when  he  takes  a  sip .       "       you  know ,  when  you  said  you’d  invite  me  to  an  exhibition ,  i  was  kind  of  hoping  it’d  be  a  date  and  not  a  job  assignment .       "       but  that’s  so  very  her ,  isn’t  it ?       "       don’t  you  wanna  introduce  me  to  your  friends ?       "

                    fingers wrap around the flute of champagne with the same resistiveness that her eyes meet his probing gaze,   but it’s jamie.   whatever accusation hides in his eyes,   it pierces right through her :   everything was nice when she was in manchester, that’s true ――   it’s equally as true that it wouldn’t have worked out,   even if she hadn’t met someone else.   how often is it necessary to repeat the same conversation ?   it always comes down to the incombatibility of their work.   she’s tried romanticising it :   him photographing the horrors of war,   coming home to her every couple of months,   her trying to prevent the same horrors from festering within the states.   there’s no point in it.   he wouldn’t be happy,   and neither would she.   and dima …   it’s different.   it could work out,   at least for a couple of years.   the tone he gives her,   she responds to with a slow breath.          “          i was hoping you could talk to manoury,  one artist to another.          ”          the alto of her voice resembles an olive branch,   head leant to the side ――   but in all truth,  she knows.   part of her would have wished for different circumstances.   she misses him.   not constantly,   not even terribly much,  but …   he looks at her in that way and she remembers what’s it like waking up next to him.   it’s nice.   used to be nice,  anyway.          “          i don’t think an introduction would be any productive.   besides …   none of them are here.   no need to further scan the room.          ”

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TAIINTED ;  MORGAN DELMONT ,   @hellwolfie​

THEY OFFER HER A GLIMMER OF A SMILE AT HER TEASING RECEPTION AND PUSHES the steaming cup of hot cocoa, plus a neatly wrapped snow globed shaped present towards her before sitting down. Their long, black, leather raincoat with a red lining rustles against the soft furnishing  as they shuffle in their seat for the perfect comfy spot.  ❝Wooin is my speciality or so I’ve been told.  ❞    They tease back, letting out a brief chuckle, the kind that doesn’t quite reach their eyes despite their best effort to appear cheery ( perhaps it would have been better to keep their facial expression impassive, just so she wouldn’t see the hurt radiating through their skin ) and they flinch when their rose-gold wedding band catches the light of the winter sun, which causes it to sparkle like a Christmas tree bedecked in fairy lights. Should they even still be wearing it after everything Larkin put them through during these last few weeks. 

❝I ―― ❞  Where to even begin is the question that plagues their mind  and crimson red hues are quick to give her a apologetic look when they catch her staring at them ( they’ve been to lost in their mind  to properly acknowledge her ). They flounder for several moments for  words that could explain how they lost their job without painting their husband in a bad light.  ❝ Larkin, brought my boss home the other night t’make me jealous and I guess they had been intimate because he began to kiss the back of my husband neck right in front of me as I walked through the front door, so punched him.  ❞ With a sigh, they makes a dismissive gesture  with their hand as their gaze moves over to the window to look at the horizon.  ❝Larkin, didn’t know he was my boss or my Mama’s… Monique’s brother but after I punched him he fired me and I am now scrapin by doin’ jobs in the field of the paranormal, while tryin’ to figure out what I did wrong t’make Larkin want to sleep with someone else. Is it wrong t’say that right now Larkin is dead t’me, Moa? ❞

                    the pain in crimson eyes doesn’t escape her ――   there’s never been a moment where morgan’s emotions and thoughts haven’t been clearly voiced by facial expression alone.   it seems self-evident that there’s another reason for the visit,   beyond the hot chocolate and the small present that she,   her slender fingers now wrapped around its shape,   regards with subdued skepticism.   the foible for knickknack has never been shared,   maybe because otherwise age would come with slightly more mansions than she’d like ――   storage rooms,   cupboards,   entire houses filled to the brim with objects assigned a minimum of emotional value.   she’s got her antiques,  all right ;   but when morgan’s gaze meets hers,   it’s not the present that hinders the smile from persisting.   and besides,  she loves morgan because of the affection for the small things in life,   not despite of it.

there’s a certain tone in their voice,   apology aside :   with one hand holding onto the warm mug and the other placing the snow globe onto her work desk, she settles on her own chair with a frown.

“          i don’t know what to say.   i’m sorry.          ”          it’s an honest verbalisation.   she’s liked larkin,   doesn’t dare insist she knows him well,   but after everything they’ve been through together ――   after all of her mistakes,   the unmissable amount of them …   noah,  kua…   teeth dig into the inside of her cheek when she regards morgan’s defeated silhouette.          “         under different circumstances,   i’d say you have a shit taste in men.          ”          there’s a brief laugh,   entirely airy and unable to reach beyond the corners of her mouth.          “          but,  to be honest,  i’m married to your other cheating ex,  so.         ”          what’s the point in this ?   her palm sets the mug down,   fingertips dragging over her chin and lips :   it’s disappointing,   being so oblivious to the signs that larkin would cheat in the aftermath of their still very recent marriage ――   she should have seen them,   should have recognised them.   she out of all should have known and warned morgan.   it’s unfortunate.

“          is there anything i can do for you ? ――   maybe not punch larkin,   although i have a terrific left hook.   … i could talk to your former boss ?   see if i can do anything about you getting sacked ?         ”

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guys i am engaged