sanguincre-blog

[sanguincre-blog]

WHEN’S A MONSTER NOT A MONSTER?

                                                                                      oh, when you love it

( @skylcrks )

[sanguincre-blog]

                  Vasiliy Burlakov & Rhiannon Nankova Playlist 001./???

Anthonio by Annie // through the masquerade you led me by the hand whispered the words, “this is forever” said from the a silver tongue that’s where it started from.

Make Me a Bird by Elektrik People // we got to talking, and she began to compliment me. said that she likes the way I sing, and perhaps she could help me, but I was caught up, in the pain behind her eyes. she said, make me a bird, I’ll fly away beyond the confines of the sick, sick game.

Night Call by Kavinsky // I’m giving you a night call to tell you how I feel. I want to drive you through the night, down the hills. I’m gonna tell you something you don’t want to hear. I’m gonna show you where it’s dark, but have no fear.

Digital Versicolor by Glass Candy // this is the brilliance of white light ( white light ) it shines on roses and gardenias ( white light ).

Cherry by Chromatics // cherry tells me some things I don’t want to know and I can’t see a light at the end for us anymore, but I can’t keep crying all of the time. no, I can’t keep crying all of the time.

@sanguincre

[sanguincre-blog]

[sanguincre-blog]

rhiannon nankova,

( @sanguincre )

The echo was what got to her, more than anything. The sound of her own worn boots resonated off the pavement giving her the chills–a TINGLING sensation running up her spine ( not unlike the vincent price film ). Feeling her heartbeat in her throat, Rhiannon could hear the whistle of air with her sharp inhale, and scrunched her eyes closed before forcing herself to turn about lookover her shoulder. Just her own footfalls–nothing more. The exhale tasted sweet, hot breath clinging to her tongue with a sigh of relief, before she turned around again only to come to a hard stop at the sight of a man in front of her, blood chilling like tears in the 13 degree Antarctic snow. 

It was a moment before she recovered, though she quickly recognized the man before her–another sigh of RELIEF pushed past her chapped lips and she readjusted the strap on her pack, producing a genuine smile in greeting. “Vasiliy!” A brow rose in amusement as her index fingers found the arms of raybans that would be familiar to him behind her ears. Wiggling the glasses up and down against the bridge of her nose, she smiled playfully. “Remember these?”

     ALL SMOKE AND MIRRORS, Vasiliy didn’t always remember how he got to places. Often it felt like he just appeared, sprung out of the ground like a plant with no roots. He woke up in different house or building, either from sleep or blacking out—due to drinking or otherwise, or just ARRIVED somewhere else without taking any of notice his journey there. That’s how he felt in life, really, he was just a cold, cold breeze that drifted in and out of LIFE and consciousness. Standing now in the street, he couldn’t remember if he had been there for awhile or just stopped as he saw the brunette walking this way, waiting for her to ARRIVE at his feet. It used to be frightening when he was a child, to lose time and parts of his days, but he had long grown accustomed to them, these blackouts, to the point he might have felt unease to remember every single thing he had done in a 24 hour period.

     He did remember HER, though, and she had remembered him–of course she did. Lips curling lightly at the corners, much like the dreaded cat that got the CANARY, Vasiliy nodded, attempting to show amusement but only felt satisfaction that she kept them. Good, that was very good.  ❝  Hello Ahna.  ❞  Vasiliy greeted, head titling towards the right as his eyes dripped down her body without the protection of sunglasses to mask it.  ❝  You have kept them.  ❞

[sanguincre-blog]

[sanguincre-blog]

Christian Slater In Heathers (1988)

[sanguincre-blog]

He wants to be liked, or really loved, for what he is, genuinely. But he doesn’t think he has to change to be worthy of being loved; instead he wants to change the whole world, change humanity, make it into something that loves him.

Jace Herondale, City of Heavenly Fire by Cassandra Clare (via paperwhisperings)

[sanguincre-blog]

                                                    (  VASILIY BURLAKOV : case file  )

full name: VASILIY KONSTANINOVICH BURLAKOV preferred name: VASILIY known aliases: BASIL BURLAKOV date of birth: JANUARY 3RD, 1992 place of birth: VOLGOGRAD, RUSSIAN FEDERATION current location: CHEYENNE, WYOMING previous locations: MOSCOW, RUSSIAN FEDERATION; MANHATTAN, NEW YORK arrival date to cheyenne: AUGUST 10TH, 2015 duration of stay in cheyenne: TWENTY ONE MONTHS human kill count: 0 ( though has caused human deaths through many means, such as not helping other survivors in hordes or allowing other survivors to get bit ) infected kill count: 90+ current inventory: ONE PACK OF BELOMORKANAL CIGARETTES, TWO PACKS OF MARLBORO CIGARETTES, ONE BOTTLE OF PYATIZVYOZDNAYA VODKA, ONE BUTTERFLY KNIFE open to trading: NO — though will steal in guise of trading.

[sanguincre-blog]

[sanguincre-blog]

[sanguincre-blog]

I burn, I freeze; I am never warm. I am rigid; I forgot softness because it did not serve me.

Deathless, Catherynne M. Valente (via compelledbybooks)

[sanguincre-blog]

[sanguincre-blog]

[sanguincre-blog]

there’s no pretty way to put it

[sanguincre-blog]

( @lcudation )

     If there was one mortal convention that Hades did not understand, it was the idea of shame. Specifically, feeling shameful—for what did he have to feel shame for? His choices were his own and he was nothing if not assured in every action he took. He was confident as he approached the goddess that she was the source of his continued IRE.  ❝  Aidos, dearest, is it true that you have not kept your opinions of me to yourself?  ❞

[sanguincre-blog]

◈ persephone.

What Hades willed into being, the fates surely made it so. Spindly fingers wove his will into thin red lines that held together until his lips bid them to BREAK. The transfixing gaze of his DARK EYES had entranced her greater than crowns and pomegranates and it was no different in mortality than it had been in the kingdom of the dead. A weak smile danced faintly on her pink lips; he had so much faith that the world would be righted in time. Persephone wondered if he would still find her entrancing if his faith wore off. “What are we to do until then?” Soft eyes grew pleading as she leaned her rosy cheek ( flushed with the frustrations of mortality ). Without a crown atop the mane of golden locks, she did not feel LIGHTER. “What will happen to our home in our absence?” Despite the reservations she had developed, the Underworld was truly her home. A queen was nothing without her realm, no crown could change that. 

     Soft, soft Persephone. Delicate as the flowers that sat upon her golden curls, sweet as the seeds that bound her to him, to their world. Those flowers had been stained crimson, however. Blood he put there, blood she sought out on her own. Yes, he had taken her, and oh had he taken her, but Demeter and those who opposed them did not seem to realize Persephone CHOSE those seeds, she had chose him. ( If her choice was coerced, Hades wouldn’t only deny it ; he wouldn’t believe it even if it came straight out of her own mouth. ) Hades sighed contemplatively, lips pressing in a firm line as his eyes traced over her cherubic features.  ❝  We wait.  ❞  He answered simply, thumb stroking against her cheek growing heavy.  ❝  We are at the unforgiving mercy of Zeus’ grandiose folly, dearest. We shall sit as WEAKLINGS until he lifts this death sentence.  ❞  That did not mean Hades had planned to make it easy for his younger brother ; swirls of REVENGE danced in his mind at every moment, constantly and continuously, so much that he might have been mistaken for NEMESIS.  ❝  Our home shall be protected,  ❞  Faithful Cerberus would prevent any from entering or leaving, at least, and Hades had trusted Charon as much as he possibly could trust another.  ❝  and its meadows and rivers eagerly await our RETURN.  ❞  Or perhaps just his return, he dreaded to think Demeter was going to use their captivity as her opportunity to take his wife away forever.

[sanguincre-blog]

◈ nyx.

                  mirth glints in black eyes as she turns, a glance THROWN over her shoulder with a mischief that bore the night clear in the curve of her lips. “ oh, of course milord. “ she coos placatingly, continuing her exploration of this new, MORTAL world she has found herself thrown amongst. his discontent amuses her, if nothing else. true, she thrives in the night, her night. her home. her love. but this is new even to her, she who stood at the beginning of all. could he truly blame her for her interest ? “ your brother’s tantrum will not last… we will be thrust back in to the shadows of the UNDERWORLD, comforted by death and darkness. i will have my night and you will have your souls but until then, we are here. “ and she turns. “ - you should be grateful, hades. he could have cursed them all in to our domain and then we would be stuck with the insufferable tainting our HOME. “

     A lifeless smirk reaches upon his lips, stinging eyes returning the mirth reflected in her own. One hand, placed against the inside of his arm, begins a languid stroke against his bicep — how STRANGE to feel his own skin, surprisingly delicate in a way he hasn’t ever known himself to be. ( Maybe this was the image Persephone saw–sees him in, the one she claims others cannot and could not understand how she loves him until they witness this milk-skinned creature. )  ❝  I must implore you do not speak of home, it feels as if a hole as big as TARTARUS beats in place of a humanly heart when I think of the smell of death and screams of fear.  ❞  Hades muses ( far too little people know how poetic Hades can be when he wants to ) as the languid hand now presses against his chest and a wistful shadow of a smile replaces the smirk. His nostrils flared with a low hum, finding humor rise in his throat at the thought of sanctimonious Olympus deities infiltrating the BARREN wastelands of their home.  ❝  I am fortunate to have you near to remind of these small mercies, wise Nyx.  ❞