righteusa - Tumblr blog

[righteusa]

*    /    𝑮𝑳𝑶𝑹𝒀𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫    :   𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆.

independent. private. multimuse feat. canon characters from various fandoms. including: ouat, supernatural, dc & marvel comics.  as loved  to by   NEE.

personals do not interact !

[righteusa]

(     *     VALENTINE’S DAY PROMPTS   !    

send a symbol from your muse to mine.   add  ↪  for a reverse from my muse to yours !

🍳   :   cook breakfast in bed for my muse.

💝   :   give a box of chocolates to my muse.

🍿    :   watch a rom-com with my muse.

💐   :   give flowers to my muse.

👙    :   buy lingerie for my muse.

💌   :   leave my muse a card from a secret admirer.

🍽️   :   take my muse out for dinner for two.

❤️   :   give a gift to my muse.   (   specify.   )

🐶   :   surprise my muse with a puppy.

🐱   :   surprise my muse with a kitten.

💔   :   break up with my muse.

🏩   :   book a valentine’s trip away with my muse.

💍    :   propose to my muse.

🔥    :   flirt with my muse.

😳   :   confess your muse’s love to my muse.

😘   :   kiss my muse.

🐻   :   give my muse a valentine’s teddy bear.

💃    :   dance with my muse.

🚫   :   spend valentine’s day with my muse platonically   :   no partners allowed !

[righteusa]

——    𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑵 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴:   𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕.  

                                                   independent. private. show-based.                                                           &&   𝑴𝑨𝑫 𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑵𝑬𝒀 !                                          of starz american gods. headcanon-influenced.                                                              written by    * 𝑵𝑬𝑬 !

personals don’t interact !

[righteusa]

nrrctr·:

splitting     a     beer     between     another     man     was     almost     like     a    ritual.     the     bar     was  a     shrine,     the     money     an     offering,     and     the     beer     a     reward     for     hard  -  working,  clinically     depressed     men.     ❝          ———     you     kiss     your     mother     with    that    mouth     ?            ❞  

home  away  from  home  ,  alcohol  on tongue  ,  in blood  ,  a  sleepy  sort  of  worship.    bars   ,  dark  ,  warm  ,  noise  filtered  out  like  so  much  riff-raff.  who  are  you  in  the shadows  ?   a  womb  of  familiarity  and  common  intent.       ❝        ———    not   like   she’s   around   to   wash   my   mouth   out   with   soap.    ❞  

[righteusa]

thought i was gonna return from the dead but my internet has been out for days and I have a new years party tonight with my family ! it's a day late but Happy lunar New year everyone ! and to my fellow viet followers chúc mừng năm mới !

[righteusa]

@lydstm​    continued from   HERE

       A MURKY BLEEDING HESITANCE    eyes caught on the shadows of gravestones ,    looming  ,  an omen in the dark.   if this whole hunting business doesn’t pan out he can have a very successful business in grave digging.   he’d been digging his own for years after all.  what a fine pair of friends these two made:     the man who threw himself at death and left lifetimes behind him like used matchsticks. the woman who stumbled on death like left behind cigarette butts.   lingered history that found their way to them.   A LIFE LIVED IN SHADOW    the hunter who’d died  ,  the hunter who’d literally been to hell and back.  fingers closed into a slow fist  ,  unused to    tourists  ,  especially ones that could   apparently   act as supernatural dousing rods.  he’d done his research     (  or sammy had  )    whatever was going on in this place  ,  the graveyard would answer more questions than it wouldn’t. 

boots press into gravel  ,  into soft mud  , trampling grass and flattening the earth  ,  eyes traced percieved threats and caught  ,  FIRE.  no    strawberry blonde   and the way pale skin looked paler.  large eyes  ,  was that fear or curiosity  ?  voice gruff,  voice unsure.   “   there’s   WORSE   places in the world.   “   it’s light  ,  teasing  ,  humor like a flickering flame dances across his features.  masks the serious nature of the words.   “  maybe if we get lucky it’ll just be some kids with a ouija board.  ��

[righteusa]

@everyone on the dash

your portrayal: 👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠＯOOＯOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌

[righteusa]

         HEART AN UNSPUN SPOOL OF THREAD        hundreds of knots tangled round and woven through, the whole of the world strung up tight, you whisper   ‘where does it hurt ?’   the world responds in resonance,   ‘everywhere, oh, everywhere.’    hands were made for soothing,    made for caresses and kindness and biting nails.    hands made trembling and nervous and perfect.    day by day you relearn the alphabet of tenderness, tongue once silver made clumsy, day by day,   a language learned in reverse.   day by day you learn to   MAKE THESE BONES YOUR OWN,    against the heartache and the hurt,   day by day   you learn what it means to need to keep going forward. there is beauty in the motions and unfoldings of your spine.   TELL ME: did you ever stop tearing yourself to pieces to let others in ?   TELL ME : DID YOU EVER STOP DEMANDING THE SAME ?

independent. private. mina harker. as protected by nee. 

personals do not reblog ! 

[righteusa]

friendly reminder that i’m mutuals-only and that i know a lot of people like reblog karma but like............i’d rather you just reblog it then send me a IC ask if we’re not mutuals. 

[righteusa]

i made a aesthetic side-blog if y’all are into that. 

[righteusa]

            a   sentence   starter   inspired   by    “ MABEL ”    a   podcast   about   ghosts ,   family   secrets ,   strange   houses ,   and   missed   connections   written   by   becca   de   la   rosa   and   mabel   martin.  

            *   taken   from   the   episodes   “ THOMAS ” , “ REALLY RED ” , “ LETTER FROM JUNIPER ” , “DATURA” , “ COALESCENCE ”  and  “ THE KING SPEAKS ”

❛ did i dream you ? ❜

❛ are you real ? are you anything of flesh , do you breathe ? ❜

❛ my mother taught me many things but she did not teach me this. ❜

❛ you knew me , as though i was a piece of you , something you’d been missing. ❜ 

❛ i didn’t realise i was still afraid. ❜

❛ if i die here , what happens to you ? ❜

❛ sometimes , when i look out of your mirror at you , i think that i am looking at a piece of my own soul. ❜

❛ sometimes i think i would eat you if i could. ❜

❛ where does it come from , the thread that ties us together ? ❜

❛ there are– systems , like you said to me. there are rules that can’t be broken. ❜

❛ last time you were here , you just kept saying you were lost. ❜

❛ you know some of my secrets , i know some of your secrets. ❜

❛ we were equals now , or people made equal by virtue of having shared something terrible. ❜

❛ once you’re inside , it doesn’t matter anymore– you leave pieces of yourself in there. ❜

❛ that’s what this house does , it eats parts of you. ❜

❛ i’m all in pieces. bits of me are echoes. ❜

❛ i was lost when i came here first. so some of me will always be lost. ❜

❛ i went in for coffee and most of me never came out. ❜

❛ that house got its claws in you, too. ❜

❛ you know that feeling when you realise that something’s been out of joint , and you just haven’t noticed it up until right that moment ? ❜

❛ sometimes i get angry. it doesn’t happen very often , but when it does it’s like– it’s like something inevitable. ❜

❛ you need to stop talking about it. ❜

❛ i didn’t tell you this before , but you were in my dream last night. ❜

❛ hold with the hare and run with the hounds. it means someone who takes a stance against something , but then goes on to do that exact thing. ❜

❛ there’s too much white noise in our heads. ❜

❛ but animals only follow their instincts. they are pure in a way i am not. ❜

❛ if this was a fair story , you would have already come back to me. ❜

❛ i have been stuck down here in the dark with nothing but your voice going on and on. ❜

❛ this is a nation haunted by its fictions. ❜

❛ what feeds our engines , if not fairy tales ? ❜

❛ what am i if not a jaw full of teeth ? ❜

[righteusa]

I can't believe dean's only kiss on this blog is with a chaotic chaotic piece of tinfoil that forgets to blink.

@hdtvtits

[righteusa]

          MID-WESTERN HEAT FIT TO SUFFOCATE      the sky had been building a steady darkness of thick clouds fit to blot out the sun  ,  morning had seen a man who’d forced his feet to the floor to face the day.   spring showers being april flowers    the air was humid  ,  OPPRESSIVE  , heavy enough to   drown   in   ,  and for him and all his layers the sweat beading at his temples may well have been a    BAPTISM   under the angry sun.   red fire extinguished itself on the horizon as night fell  ,  barely enough in it’s  FURY  ,  to cut through the impending rain.  driving through desert stretches and wilting fields his childhood chasing him through the day like a   hound at the shadow of his car.     the rain had come  ,  slow at first  ,  a trickle.   his mind filled with sun bleached plastic  ,  a deflated kiddie pool collecting parched grass  ,  critters   ,  the shallow puddles of stagnant water.  

lichen kissing the concrete  ,  wood littered with coffee mug imprints.  the bed and breakfast he’d ducked into when the road had become a haze was amber lit. silent in the way his drive hadn’t been.  the rain howls outside  ,   leaves imprints of hands on the window panes   as it knocks against the glass begging for   entrance.   the space feels so large and empty even your   EMOTIONS HAVE AN ECHO.    the silence that greeted him was punctuated with the shuffle of someone else and his eyes cut across the space.   grainy vision  ,  sleep creeping around the edges of his mind  ,  dreams lapping like a black wave  ,  the beach at night    HIGH TIDE   /   THE RISING MOON.    cyclical  ,  silvery soft and ever changing.  THE MOON KNOWS WHAT IT MEANS TO BE HUMAN.  the storm carries white noise   ,   a pastel living silence  ,  a writhing thing and he treads softly in deference to something he’s sure he’s irreverent to.    sharing space    a   night mass    in a congregation of two.   MIDNIGHT DARK AND DREARY    what altar have they found  ?      threadbare curtains ripped like the wings of a dissected bird,    voice pitched low.     “  somehow i thought i was the only one having trouble sleeping. it couldn’t rain just a bit harder  ,  huh  ?  sounds like a cannon’s going off every ten minutes.  “

                                 > @antialibi

[righteusa]

dean + being iconic™ in season 12

[righteusa]

@hdtvtits

[righteusa]

me: oH MY GOD YAAAAAS LETS PLOT IM SO EXCITED them: haha sure me: 

[righteusa]

qvotable‌:

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was always just red.”

— Kait Rokowski