#hdm x tba

[oceanssapart]

— the blind assassin, margaret atwood

[queenofnabooty]

HDM frames w/TBA part 1/?

[thesunsetsea]

She imagines him imagining her. This is her salvation. In spirit she walks the city, traces its labyrinths, its dingy mazes: each assignation, each rendezvous, each door and stair and bed. What he said, what she said, what they did, what they did then. Even the times they argued, fought, parted, agonized, rejoined. How they’d loved to cut themselves on each other, taste their own blood. We were ruinous together, she thinks. But how else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin?

The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood × masriel

[midnightchapter]

We were ruinous together, she thinks. But how else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin?

The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood

[that-one-blind-writer]

“𝑌𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑛𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦’ ‘𝑆𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒’ ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑠” -𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗

[neutrophic]

New gig confirmed! In january I’ll be sharing stage with names like @gunzforhire @djadaro @djrandofficial @rejectaofficial @djbfront and more! Get you tickets: https://www.beatbase.com/en/events/mnd-pres-tba-x-5-january-2020-x-tradgarn-sweden . . . #neutrophic #dj #gig #mixanddance #göteborg #party #rave #live #hardstyle #music #new #hdm #nightclub #unity #blackoutrec #dance #winter #g4h #bloodbrothers #love #hard #hardstylefamily #style #hardstylereport #neutrophicalvlogs #dedication #rand #adaro #rawstyle https://www.instagram.com/p/B14Tx4WoIgx/?igshid=mjbp2om1daox

[queenofnabooty]

HDM frames w/TBA part 2/?

[queenofnabooty]

HDM frames w/TBA part 3/?

[queenofnabooty]

What isn’t there has a presence, like the absence of light.

[oceanssapart]

He was deciding whether to cut her throat or love her forever. Right. Yes. The usual choices.

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

[oceanssapart]

I shouldn’t walk in such heat, it makes my heart beat harder. I notice this with malice. I shouldn’t put my heart to such tests, now that I’ve been informed of its imperfections; yet I take a perverse delight in doing this, as if I am a bully and it is a small whining child whose weaknesses I despise.

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

[oceanssapart]

I think of my heart as my companion on an endless forced march, the two of us roped together, unwilling conspirators on some plot or tactic we’ve got no handle on. Where are we going? Towards the next day. It hasn’t escaped me that the object that keeps me alive is the same one that will kill me. In this way it’s like love, or a certain kind of it.

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

[queenofnabooty]

Better not to invent her in her absence. Better to wait until she's actually here. Then he can make her up as she goes along.

[oceanssapart]

“Underneath it all your parents love you.” Parents were supposed to love their children, so I must have taken this thing she said as a reassurance: despite appearances, your parents were as other parents were, or considered to be. Now I think it was more complicated than that. It may have been a warning. It may also have been a burden. Even if love was underneath it all, there was a great deal piled on top, and what would you find when you dug down? Not a simple gift, pure gold and shining; instead, something ancient and possibly baneful, like an iron charm rusting among old bones. A talisman of sorts, this love, but a heavy one; a heavy thing to carry around with me, slung on its iron chain around my neck.

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

[oceanssapart]

I’ll take it back. I’ll change it. I’ll rewrite history for you. How’s that?

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

[queenofnabooty]

But this isn’t Hell. It’s happiness, said one of the Peach Women who was materializing from the branch of a nearby tree. There’s nowhere to go from here. Relax. Enjoy yourselves. You’ll get used to it. And that’s the end of the story. That’s it? she says. You’re going to keep those two men cooped up in there forever? I did what you wanted. You wanted happiness. But I can keep them in or let them out, depending how you want it. Let them out, then. Outside is death. Remember? Oh. I see. She turns on her side, pulls the fur coat over her, slides her arm around him. You’re wrong about the Peach Women though. They aren’t the way you think. Wrong how? You’re just wrong.