#what a tragedy to lose yourself and the only person you ever truly admired

[vonderful-time]

i often think about why enver gortash and the dark urge gravitated towards each other like they did. what drew them together, after their first meeting?

was it the perpetual loneliness, the dangerous monotony of their lives, or even the deep carnal need for a person they could consider equal? was it only because of their mutual connection to the dead three, a power that tied them together only for convenience, a transitional pact made only for the end goal of batrayal? was gortash the one to initiate their first meeting, or did the dark urge slink his way into a young dukes quarters, intent on finding a new mark but instead finding opportunity?

did they quarrel, or did they have a mutual understanding, spurned on by their initial attraction to each other? was it an attraction of the body, or one of the mind — nay, the soul — that made them twist and warp themselves into shapes that only slot together?

i wonder how enver gortash felt when the clock ticked midnight and the dark urge, never prompt but never late, failed to show up. i wondered if he searched for his partner in crime, his closest confidante, before orin revealed her act. i wonder if he thought about abandoning the plan he and his bhaalspawn made together, only to pull himself together when he felt the push of the tyrants black hand on his back, forcing him to kneel.

i contemplate the nature of their relationship — their true genuine relationship, behind any facade or expectation — and if either one of them felt the loss of it in the days after the dark urges disappearance.

i like to think enver gortash mourned. i like to think that if the dark urge remembered, they would have raged. yet, there is no happy ending for these two, no matter the path the player chooses.

instead, there is only a “what could have been” and a series of questions to ponder.

[lizzychanstuffss]

May I... may I touch you?

Astartion x durge!reader

thank you @ferenofnopewood (also for being my beta reader!) for the inspo for this. We both went feral talking about this.

Synopsis: a simple rewrite of the Act 2 romance scene with durge and Astarion. Basically, this is just extra soft and I imagine it would be cute if he remembered you hugging him in the confession scene. Also this is totally my headcanon for my own durge but don't mind that

Of course as always spoilers for act 2!

Your head spun with bile and wrath, unable to sleep it off as you normally would try to do. But no matter what you did nothing seemed to calm the thundering headache forming at the edges of your mind. So without much other choice, you stood up. Your companions were blissfully sleeping while you wrestled with unseen demons. Once you got up you could see Astarion from across the still burning fire; his beauty was always apparent even when he was at rest. 

But your silent admiration was rudely interrupted by a foul-sounding goblin butler.

"He is so afraid. So, so afraid of everyone besides you who he ought to fear the most." His words were clearly said with the intention of shaking your resolve. "You could do so much better." The goblins' tone disgusted you, how he could say such things and yet you know they rang true in Astarion’s own mind, he was so worried you could do better than some runaway vampire spawn. But these thoughts were clouding your judgment even more than the urge was and with that you shook your head as the thoughts faded to the background.

"Get away from him." The bile and raw, murderous intent that had been clawing at your insides broke out in a growl. But seemingly unimpeded by your defense he playfully hopped over Astarion, the thought of using your urge to protect him might not be all that bad of an idea. 

Was he taunting you? It was a thought that crossed your mind and passed as he spoke again.

"I won't lay so much as a talon on him! I wouldn't rob you of that delight. Your clever mind is penning up a tragedy as we speak. Your repressed urge yearns to kill." He appraises a moment before continuing "And kill you will. Tonight, the moment you close your eyes, your favorite person will be brutalized." The words were a shock to your system. You couldn't let that happen not to him, not ever. The thought alone made you want to vomit that your own body would even consider it.

"I-I love him, No, I can't be" You couldn’t imagine losing no not him. He’s been the only person who didn’t judge, didn’t blame you, no matter how bad it got. You couldn’t bear to—

"We all kill what we love most, in time" 

You choked back a sob.

"You like him for more than his looks, but he will never believe that. Why not make him a pretty corpse?" Your hands started to twitch as you let yourself briefly indulge in the fantasy of wrapping them around the wretched creature’s neck. If he really meant to taunt you into committing a murder he was certainly getting close to achieving that goal.

"He must live....I haven't yet told him how I truly feel about him." The felt less like a defense against the butlers goading and more like a reminder to yourself. What you were truly trying to achieve here. You have promised to protect Astarion. From Cazador, from yourself, it didn’t matter. And it was a promise you would never break…at least you hoped.

"Why not whisper it while you twist a knife? Or have a love confession be the final words between you? It is my duty to ensure you are making the right decisions, Master." He lets out a sigh mimicking a father in its nature. "There was much..disappointment at your reluctance to kill the little Moonmaiden. You could kill this one deliberately. I'm sure it will be considered a great show of good will. The tithe could still be yours." There it was again, the offer, the temptation…what you assumed was to be considered one. You still had no idea what this so-called tithe even could be; but you were certain you wanted nothing to do with it if it required such a foul murder.

"I will save him, whatever it takes."

"I do not doubt you will act with the decorum befitting one of your rank. Good night." And with that the butler was finally gone leaving you with a choice you had already made prior. Taking the initiative and kneeling besides Astarion you attempted to wake him. But as you went to reach for his shoulder your hand paused of it’s own violation, it itched to wrap itself around his throat and ruin him. You would not allow it, a battle against your own mind was something you had gotten accustomed to on this journey thus far and so once you were able to regain composure you went to wake him but he made quicker work of it then you could, questioning whether or not he was actually in a trance at all tonight.

"Well, hello. Looking for a cuddle?" he said, flirtatious as ever even in such a trying time for yourself. Although you were sure the look on your face gave way to his next set of words. "Although you don't look entirely...yourself. What's going on in that head of yours?"

That question was one you had to think about how to answer, and quickly. "Listen, now isn't the time...I need to protect you." You tried your best to convey the urgency of your situation as the headache overtook you again.

"All right, talk quickly, then." He seemed concerned, but there was something unsure about his expression as well. 

"I'm going to kill the person I most care about: you." 

You took a breath, it was ragged and barely enough to push the headache down for the moment, as you used the brief moment of clarity to gauge what Astarion’s reaction. 

"Unless you can stop me." A faint glimmer of hope mingled with your voice as you practically pleaded with him. Astarion was a capable enough fighter, surely stopping you would be an easy enough feat.

"How flattering, And disturbing" he smiled "You could have talked to me before things got murderously bad, you know. We are technically in this together." He was using sass to cover nerves that you couldn’t help but notice. It was so like him even in the face of danger "It certainly puts the death of dear, sweet Alfira into some perspective." Those were the last words you heard before your vision blurred and your head grew into a dizzy blur and you fainted.

But when you awoke you were not in control, it was like watching from a window all you could do was try and tap on the glass. You tried your best to resist hurting him…although you realized quite quickly you were bound by your hands and feet. It gave you some relief to know that you could do little to rebel in this state. 

"This thing won't have you. It won't win." You hoped those words were true. You tried your best to resist again expressing understanding. Instead your body reacts with a will of its own, it tried to bite at him. Which would have almost been funny any other time but now…now all you wanted to do was scream out in frustration.

"Ah ah ah! We ask before we bite.” He took this better than you expected, with a sigh he spoke again "You're cute, you know. In another life we might have been friends." Those words felt flippant in the moment, but you could tell there was an underlying sadness to them. If you’d been of your right mind you would have tried to comfort him. But comforting anyone was beyond you at the moment. All you could do was fight against your binding and your urge as it drove you to struggle against the bindings the kept you from hurting anyone, including yourself.

"Easy now, darling, You've got this. And I've got you." Those words gave you a strange comfort and a boost of determination. Feeling another wave of the urge you tried your best to resist and this time managed to express a sliver of thankfulness for his words.

"You'd do the same to me. Now just relax - dawn isn't far off." He wasn't wrong about that, as much as it was hard to admit he knew you better than you'd like to admit at times. The night passed on and without any bloodshed, a mercy from the gods. You once again returned to your mind, scared and exhausted.

Then, almost on cue, Astarion came to free you from your bindings. He sat in front of you, and a look of embarrassment crept onto your face as he spoke.

"I felt bad for the bard, seeing you like that. Poor Alfira never stood a chance, did she?" It wasn't really a question even if he posed it as one because the answer was clear as day. "Now that you're back with us," he paused, "We need to have a talk."

You had dreaded this moment but he was right. You needed to talk about this whether you wanted to or not. You sighed before trying to speak, but the words ended up getting caught in your throat. Suddenly you realized there were tears falling down your cheeks. You were unable to hold it back any longer. Any sort of strong front you had put on up unto this point faded in an instant and you were sat in front of him sobbing.

Concern formed on the man's face and he adjusted himself to get a little closer before asking "May I....may I touch you?" His words were gentle and meant to be calming - although almost anything said in his voice was calming. You gave him a nod. You weren't sure what he was going to do exactly but when he gently wrapped his around your shaking body in a similar fashion to how you had hugged him a few nights prior. Those tears started to flow even more. Nestling your head in the crook of his neck, tears wetted his rather flowy camp shirt.

"Sh, sh, you can let it all out." Those words caused the tears to flow even harder. Had you really been holding in all of this for so long? You didn't know. All you did know was that you really needed this: A gentle comfort from someone you loved so deeply as him. After a moment, he tentatively stroked your hair. Although you couldn’t help but wonder if his hesitation was because he wasn’t sure how to actually comfort someone or if he just didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It didn’t really matter all that much, you didn’t care, you appreciated that he even tried in the first place.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, him just stroking your hair and holding you while you let out all the tears you needed to get out. By the time you could finally talk again your eyes were red and puffy, but he would never say a thing about it. As you removed yourself from his body, but only enough so you could get a look at his face he instinctively raised a hand up to caress your cheek before stopping but your answered his silent question by leaning into it. He wiped away some of your tears before gently running his thumb over your cheek. It was a soft gesture and much needed, his touch was welcome in that moment.

"So then, are you ready to talk now, or do you need to stain my shirt more first?" he joked. A small chuckle made its way across your lips, and a smile found its way to his lips as well.

"I suppose I am...I know I owe you an explanation" you sighed.

"You don't owe me anything” he corrected  “But I would like an explanation." 

You gave him a nod. He was right, of course. But considering you did almost kill him, explaining seemed like the least you could do.

You told him everything about “the dark urge” as you had taken to calling it. Well, everything you could remember. He sat there and listened patiently. But his face gave way to no emotion, no emotion, no fear just…..understanding.

Once you finished explaining, he replied, "You are not alone in this - none of us are. We can even compare notes if you like." His comforting words made you feel like a monster, it was refreshing. 

You looked his face over, before you leaned into his hand again, closing your eyes as sadness began to overtake you. "You know you're allowed to hate me for this...I know I would" Your self-loathing rearing its ugly head, you couldn't help it; as much as his comfort was nice to hear the fact of the matter was you felt like a monster. Just some attack dog meant only to destroy everything and anything in your path.

"I don't hate you..because this," he made sure you kept eye contact during these words, his gaze was intense fully focused on you in this moment "This is not you" The words rang through you, and you wanted more than anything for that to be true…but it was hard to believe when killing just felt so natural to indulge in and it was just so easy to let the urge do the work. But in this moment you had to take him at his word; because if you didn't you were sure you were going to start sobbing again.

He pressed his forehead to yours before speaking again "Whatever this is though, you will get through it. And I will be here to make sure you do." A promise you hoped would be true.

[delu-jean]

Hey! For your event can I have giyuu or rengoku for 45? That’s one of my favorite songs 💕. (female reader)

𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰

Giyuu x (fem!/reader) -> Fluff -> 1.2k 

Lyrical Prompt: -> “I want to love me, the way that you love me. Oh, from all of my pretty, and all of my ugly too, I love it when I see me from your point of view,” POV (Ariana Grande)

(Regarding Lyrics): If bolded and slanted (eg: you), they’re lyrics being said. If not (eg: you), then they’re just lyrics/text! 

Notes: 

-> I wanted to do Rengoku originally, but Giyuu was running though my minddd~

-> Thank you for requesting for the event! If you would like to request, please press the hyper link for the “100 Followers Event,” and read the rules! Thanks, and enjoy!! ^^ 

You stared at Giyuu as he glanced out the window. Such a calm, and reserved young man. One of which you adored. He was just so perfect in every aspect. From his stance, the way he spoke, the way his eyes lit, to the way his hands were placed. He truly was a piece of art, one of the more rarer pieces that was showcased to you (luckily). And not only was his presence a gift, but his affection also. 

Giyuu has always handled you with care. Treating you the utmost best he could, even with his duties, and own life in the way. For him, how could he not? You were an extraordinary person. One of which he never dreamed of meeting until you appeared...right in front of him. Speaking of your meeting, it was one he would never forget. 

It's like you got superpowers

Turn my minutes into hours 

At that moment, everything seemed to have stood still. It truly felt like a spell was cast as the word “hello” had escaped from your lips. He was awe stricken. From the way your hand had waved, to the way your hair had swayed. All of you had captivated him, and for once, did time stop. Making that small amount of time feel like an eternity. One of which he hoped would extend, and hopefully, become something more. 

Fortunately for him, that’s exactly what happened. As the more time passed, the more he had fallen for you. Not only did the beauty in your appearance hook him, but so did the compassion in your heart. 

The kindness, selflessness, and passion it held for others, was something astonishing. Something he hadn’t seen in a while, especially in the field of demon slaying. Even when you took the lives of demons, just like Tanjirou, you also felt sympathetic for those beings. Yet instead of wallowing about their tragedy, you instead showed them the better of it. Some listened, and others couldn’t because the pain was too much to bear. Regardless, you did your best to show your intention through your actions. 

Executing each and everyone of them, with grace at the slash of your blade. Not only did you do your best to understand them, but you also did your best to understand others. Though it was a challenge for some people, it felt natural for you to explore more about Giyuu. Not only that, but he felt at ease when you opened closed doors which he had shut. Finding the knob to each individually, ready to repair the damage done. 

 Made of glass the way you see through me

He felt so transparent when the both of you talked. As if he was an opened book especially reserved for you. Though you thought your talent was nothing special, he found it to be an impressive accomplishment. He hadn’t opened up to anyone after the late passing of Sabitou, and his sister. Even so, there he was...with you. Telling you the littlest details which he hadn’t known he knew, and yet, it seemed that you knew more about him then he knew himself. 

So much that you could have elaborated his thoughts, memories, stories, and over all, read him to the bare of his soul. Understanding his feelings, along with his own mindset. Seeing as to why he acted a certain way, and the hurt that also tagged with the path of his choices. Though you hadn’t known him much, it seemed like you already knew him in and out. Which made him think: 

‘You know me better than I do’ and that he couldn’t seem to keep nothing from you.

In truth, Giyuu was scared. Scared that after revealing who he was, that something was bound to happen. Not to him, but to you. It seemed to be a cycle which he was stuck in. After letting someone in, they would make their way out...but in the utmost cruel, and gruesome of ways. Even so, when he attempted to let you go, you’d always come back. Re-entering his life as you wanted to know him more, and so did he want to know you. 

It made your interactions special, heartwarming, and even heart wrenching at times. All of those small, big, and silly moments which the both of you shared, brought him one step closer to you, and the gracious person you were. 

Over the years you had spent with Giyuu, you took note of who he was as a person. Not only that, but who he saw you were as an individual. You saw his efforts that came to play. Ones which were ever so considerate. Though he was timid and quiet at first, the more time you spent with him, not only did he open his mind, but his heart as well. 

I wanna love me (ooh) 

The way that you love me (ooh) 

Opening his arms to envelope you in the warmest of hugs, showing you how much he appreciated your talks, and showering you in the utmost affection. He truly did love you, and held you to the highest of his priority. Although there were times where you had doubted yourself, had disliked parts of you, or just weren’t having the best time with who you were, his actions would remind you of the self-worth you had. Not only that, but the love he also had. Love that was handmade, and tailored just for you. 

Ooh, for all of my pretty

And all of my ugly too

He adored you no matter what. From the days where your confidence had reached the roof, to the moments where it hadn’t so much, he made sure to show his appreciation. Cheering you up, or cheering you on, though not in the most loudest way, it was done the way he sought best. Knowing that it would lighten you up no matter what. He loved seeing a smile painted on your face. A structure with the softest, and pinkest lips, along with a majestic grin. One of which he had oozed over, and would smile with himself. 

Regarding arguments with you, no matter who came first after a fight, you both would make it up to each other. For him, personally, he would hold you in the moment. Letting you know that he was both sorry, and there for you. No matter what would had happened, and no matter what was yet to come. For all he knew, losing you was an option left in your hands, and knowing that, he did all he could to cling onto you. Knowing that you would do the same since that’s just who you were. 

A beautiful lady who would stand beside him, no matter thick or thin. You were there for him, ready to love him just as much as he adored you. Just one of the few things he admired about you. 

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

It was true, nobody had ever loved you the way Giyuu had. Though your love wasn’t the most vocal, it was definitely the most precious. His perspective of you was one he held very dear to himself. He made it clear, and would continuously do so. 

All of that was seen from his actions alone. If his actions were that expressive, just imagine what his thoughts had held. Yes you were able to read him, but only Giyuu truly knew the way he thought...along with his affection for you. Knowing that sometimes made you think: 

‘I'd love to see me from your point of view.’

[x-ladyathena-x]

Who We Were

(also on my AO3 & Wattpad under the name: Grey_Eyed_Athena)

Warnings: Smut, like dirty smut. Don’t read if you’re under 18. Angst, some fluff, enemies to lovers

Bucky x Reader

Word count: 2460

Summary: (one shot) You're an employee at Captain America's family fishing business. When a handsome stranger with a metal arm appears out of the blue, tensions rise.

You were a mutant working for Captain America’s family fishing business. It was a slow day today in the marina store, you hadn’t had a customer in hours. So, you sat with your feet propped up on the counter, reading from an old magazine with crinkled pages.

“Ahem,” a deep voice cleared their throat to get your attention.

You peered over the top of your magazine slightly annoyed.

“I’m looking for Sam Wilson.”

The man was tall, with short dark hair, and tragedy etched into every line of his beautiful face. The type of look people get when they’ve seen horrible things that they’ll never truly be free of.

He looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place him until you noticed his arm. At first, you thought it was a dark compression sleeve, but now you realized that this was the Winter Soldier you were talking to.

You called Sam on the phone, “Hey, Boss, there’s an Avenger here to see you.”

Sam groaned on the other end of the phone, “Which one?”

You didn’t know if it would be rude to call the man in front of you Winter Soldier to his face. That was the name Hydra gave him.

“The quiet one with the metal arm.”

Sam groaned again, “Bring him down.”

You hung up the phone and turned back to the man, “Follow me.”

The two of you walked past the register and into the back hallway. At the end of the hall, you both squeezed into a small service elevator that led to the lower levels. Sam liked to keep his office out of plain sight.

Inside the elevator, the two of you were nearly touching shoulders. It was a little awkward, so you decided to make small talk.

“How did you lose your arm?”

In truth, you didn’t know. You knew exactly who this man was but nothing much about him. You knew he’d renounced Hydra, joined the Avengers and fought Thanos. Everything that could be read in the media.

You, yourself, were one of the lucky?—or unlucky few who were not snapped and left to wander the earth in confusion and fear.

He ignored your question.

The elevator dinged open and the two of you stepped out.

“It’s pretty, your arm. The black and gold.”

He didn’t say anything, just glanced at you.

“What brings you here Mr. Barnes?”

“Bucky,” he corrected you.

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry. That’s what Captain America called you, right? That’s what Steve Rod—”

He slammed you up against the wall, holding you by the neck with his metal arm, “Do not ever mention that name to me.”

At first, you were scared, shocked even, but then you got mad. You slipped your foot behind his heel and knock him off balance. He wasn’t expecting it.

He fell flat on his back and you crouched over him with a fist full of his shirt, and got down in his face, nose to nose, “You ever do that again and we’re gonna have a problem, okay?”

He nodded with resignation.

You patted him roughly on the cheek, “Good, now come on,” You got up off him and began walking away, “The boss’s office is right up here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The woman was strong, he’d give her that. He supposed that he should feel bad that he grabbed her like that, but when she said Steve’s name, he just—he couldn’t think about him right now. Thinking about his old friend made him go to a dark place. He couldn’t blame Steve for what he did, where he went. After an entire lifetime of being the most selfless, self-sacrificing human alive, he deserved to make a selfish decision for himself. It still hurt though. The only person that ever loved him for who he was—was gone. And hearing his best friend’s name come out of the mouth of someone like her? Well, what did she know? She didn’t deserve to speak his name.

She showed him Sam’s office and turned to leave without another word. Bucky watched her walk away as he stood at Sam’s office door. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but admire her (your body type) body as she walked away.

“You’re drooling, Buck.”

Bucky snapped out of his daze to see Sam Wilson smirking at him from inside the office. His red, white, and blue vibranium shield displayed proudly on the wall.

“Good to see you, Cap,” Bucky smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat back in your chair up front. It was a quiet day, the off season. Not many people coming in to buy bait and tackle. As you tried to go back to reading your magazine, your fingers trailed over the place on your neck the Winter Soldier’s fingers had wrapped around.

You say Winter Soldier, because the eyes that were looking back at you as he had you pinned against the wall were not those of Bucky Barnes.

A shiver ran over you and you couldn’t help but press your legs together.

You thought about the cold metal. The whirring noise the plates made as they locked into place. The scent coming off him—he smelled like a cold winter’s night. Like pine and wood smoke.

You shook your head. Get a grip y/n. You still stood by what you told him down there. If he got aggressive with you again, the two of you would have a problem.

Maybe you wanted a problem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what brings you here, Buck?” Sam asked the man seated across from him.

“Mutants,” Bucky said gravely, “Hydra sleeper cells that still believe in the cause, lying in wait. I was just in Prague last week and got attacked by two of them. At first, I thought super soldiers, but no, they had abilities.”

Sam sighed, “Well, you’re not gonna like what I’m about to tell you, then.”

Sam launched into the story of how he was in Europe a month ago, helping investigate odd claims. That’s when he learned of the mutants. While there were many that operated as Bucky described, the majority were refugees, seeking asylum from those that would use them for their powers. Not unlike their friend Wanda and what Hydra did to her.

“That’s when I met y/n.” Sam said.

Bucky’s blood ran cold at the thought of the woman upstairs, “How do you know she’s not a sleeper?”

“Because I trust her,” Sam told him, “There’s still good in people in the world, Buck. Even if you don’t see it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were dreaming tonight. Dreaming of the man with the metal arm. The Winter Soldier. Bucky. Dreaming of the way he smelled. Dreaming of his weight on top of you—wait.

You awoke with a jolt to find Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier pinning you down into your mattress with a knife against your throat.

In your panic, you moved with strength not previously explored. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling the knife away from your neck. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you used the leverage to flip him over.

He was a large man. Burly and heavily muscled with broad shoulders, thick arms, and even thicker thighs. But your mutant strength, along with your adrenaline-fueled panic allowed you to flip him with ease.

You now sat atop him, straddling his waist. The knife in your hand, holding it to his throat.

He looked shocked. There was also something else in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. Not the Winter Soldier, but a darkness that didn’t pass unnoticed by you.

He licked his lips, “Well, now that you have me where you want me, what will you do?”

You pressed the knife harder into his throat, “Why are you in my room?”

“Trying to kill you, I thought that was obvious,” He said with a husky deepness in his voice.

You scoffed, “Good job,” and shifted your weight. You couldn’t help but feel the stiffness in his pants pressing through your thin pajamas.

He knew you felt him because he added, “I may not be able to control how my body reacts to you, but that doesn’t change anything.”

Taking advantage of your distraction and with lightning speed, he flipped the two of you back over again.

“I’m still going to kill you,” he whispered in your ear, “I recognized you the moment I saw you today.”

Your body stiffened. No. That was a long time ago. You weren’t that person anymore, and neither was he.

You’d worked with the Winter Soldier years ago, once on a mission when you both worked for Hydra. He was brainwashed into doing what he did and you supposed you were too. Hydra convinced you that you were doing the right thing. And you thought you were, until you weren’t.

Years of trying to escape until you ran into Captain America. Sam Wilson was the only person to help you, to believe you. He’d helped so much. He got you out of there, helped you start a new life.

You may have changed, but you could see that your chemistry with the Soldat hadn’t. On the mission you worked together, all those years ago, you ended up snowed into the safe house until the next morning. The memory of tangled limbs, sweating bodies, nips, kisses, and screams of ecstasy made you shiver.

You were surprised that the man on top of you even remembered you. Hydra wiped his mind so many times.

“So, you do remember me,” You quipped, at the mercy of his knife’s razor edge.

“Doll, I remember everything,” He growled.

You ground your hips against him, “Even this?”

His eyes fluttered shut as he released a shaky breath, “Yes, especially that.”

His body stilled; he was hesitating. He swallowed hard and threw the knife with all his strength. It plunged to the hilt into the opposite wall with a solid thud.

You lunged for each other at the same time. His lips crashed into yours like a starving man and you fed him graciously.

Your fingers tangled in his short hair as he threaded his metal arm under your body to pull you closer.

He ground into you; his erection painfully obvious now. He pulled away from you for just a moment. Just long enough to help you remove your pajamas and allow you to help him remove his clothing.

Bucky trailed a finger over the front of your black lace thong, down the front and to the strip between your legs. You gasped at the feather light sensations.

Bucky bit his lip, “You’re so fucking wet, Doll.”

In one motion, he tore the panties from your body and dove down between your legs.

You gasped at his sudden movement and rested both legs on his shoulders and tangled your hand in his dark hair as you lost yourself in the sensation.

He ate greedily. You could feel every soft lick, suckle, and kiss. Every second brought you closer to the edge. You were about to—

“Bucky!” You screamed, riding out the wave of pleasure washing over you like a warm breeze.

As soon as you came down from your high, you saw him sitting up, licking his lips.

“I missed your sweet taste, Doll.”

Your breath caught under his hungry gaze. Your eyes trailed down until they landed on him. Every inch of him. You reached out and began to pump.

He closed his eyes and his breath shuddered, “Get on your belly for me.”

You obliged his request with enthusiasm. Opening your legs and lifting your butt ever so slightly into the air. You looked over your shoulder at him as you felt him against your soaking wet core. He crawled on top of you and kissed your shoulder.

“Ready?” He asked tentatively.

You grabbed his thigh with the hand you weren’t using to prop yourself up and shoved him inside you.

The two of you gasped.

His pumps went from slow and sensual, to needy and fast. He snapped into you with a desire that made your second orgasm crash over you before you knew it was upon you.

The feel of your orgasm fluttering around him spurred him on harder. He wrapped his metal arm under your chest and rested the hand lightly on your neck and he pulled your body in closer to his, his face buried in the crook of your neck and the flesh arm wrapped tightly around your waist like he was fearful you’d disappear.

He fucked you like his life depended on it. With desperation and need. And you melted into him as if he were the only thing that was real in this world.

You could feel his thrusts getting shorter, he was about to come. And so were you. Your third orgasm is what pushed him over the edge. You both cried out in unison as you felt him empty inside you.

He continued pumping until you rode out your orgasm. He stayed inside you as he trailed kisses over your shoulder and down your back, catching his breath.

You felt him twitch inside you and he began pumping again. You moaned and cried out nonsensical words as he thrust into you again. Lost in the depths of your own pleasure and the way he made you feel, you didn’t even realize he was coming again until his body collapsed onto yours.

You rolled over to face him, and the sight broke your heart. His face looked sad and worn. Tired.

He buried his face in your chest and you held him, stroking your fingers though his soft hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a long time until he leaned up and kissed you.

“I’m sorry,” He said.

“I’m sorry too. I’m not that person anymore,” You said to him.

He pressed his forehead to yours, “I guess neither of us are.”

You let your fingers trail through his soft curls, “What made you drop the knife?”

Bucky sighed, “Like I said, I recognized you immediately. Sam said I could trust you, but I was still skeptical. Then when I came in here, the Soldat recognized you and I couldn’t..”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“He’s me, and I’m him. I can control him, he doesn’t take control of my body anymore, but I can still feel his influence. He recognized you, and once he did, I couldn’t control my reaction—didn’t want to, because I also remembered.”

He stopped and swallowed hard and you felt him stiffen again against your leg.

“Bucky,” You laughed and kissed him, “You’re gonna be the end of me.”

Super soldiers…

He laughed too as he went in for another kiss, rolling on top of you, “Doll, you have no idea.”

[lost-in-yujikiri]

Top 3 personal favorite YujiKiri scenes for SAO anime/ LN/ manga/ games

Hi anon, I don’t forget about your question, I just want to wait for after the dub finished that important episode of YujiKiri in WoU haha. Here it is my ranking:

ANIME

3) This scene when Kirito saw Eugeo coming to help him in WoU, that parallels with a similar one of Eugeo in Alicization 1st half. Look at their teary faces full of happiness and undescribed emotions

2) The header of this blog since forever, I love the beautiful animation where both of them fairy dancing in space and Eugeo gave him inspiration talk

1) This one scene where Eugeo “spirit” jogged Kirito’s spirit up from his 6 months long coma. His girlfriend Asuna, sister Suguha, friend and PTSD confidant Sinon came first to talk to Kirito out of this but he refused to wake up, blocked them and tried to kill himself by taking out his own heart, and then Eugeo showed up and he finally listened and was able to forgive his own self-proclaimed sins, took back his sword with his scarred past and fought again. It’s a very strong emotional YujiKiri scene

LIGHT NOVEL

3) This Kirito’s monologue when Kirito was resting after climbing outside the Cathedral with Alice, it’s the first time he was ever separated from Eugeo over 2 years and he already missed his partner, below is just a trimmed version with some of my comments because it’s too long:

And what was he doing now…? Now that I thought about it, in the two years since I’d met him near Rulid, there had never been a situation in which I couldn’t see him immediately if I wanted—until right now. We slept outdoors on our long journey to Centoria, complained about sharing a cramped inn floor, and even shared dorm rooms the entire time we were at Swordcraft Academy. It was simply a given that we were always together, and although I didn’t always think about him, I felt oddly lonely now that we were apart. ... Before I’d been trapped in the deadly game of SAO, I considered all the other boys at school to be childish. I was reserved in my interactions with them. That standoffish nature of mine didn’t change much once I was trapped in that virtual floating castle. I’d met men like Klein and Agil who were good, well-adjusted souls that I found common ground with, but we never reached that level of true friendship when you bare your secrets to the other. Even with Asuna, the deepest relationship I’d ever had, I wasn’t able to confess my inner weakness until just before the moment Aincrad crumbled and our minds were about to vanish. ... After I gained my freedom from SAO, my reputation for strength in VR had to be continually upheld, lest I lose that valuable image. I was trapped by the knowledge that others knew me not as the weak, mortal Kazuto Kirigaya, but as Kirito the hero, champion of the game of death. And I couldn’t deny that I had been leading them (and myself) to that conclusion, even though I knew deep down that the more layers of that artifice that built up, the further I got from the truly important things. So when I first realized after meeting Eugeo that I didn’t have to pretend to be anything, I was amazed—and wondered why.

You know, Kirito, I think because for the first time you can ever forget about all the burdens you have been carrying and be the real you around Eugeo. Do you know how heart-wrenching and lonely it feels when the world around you worship you for your heroic deeds in the past, and you can never be seen as the real “you” (before Kirito met Eugeo)? That you feel like you can’t help but keep strengthening yourself and threw into more challenges since you can’t just lose that image? I’m sure everyone around Kirito means well, but everyone’s lowkey putting Kirito on a pedestal even unconsciously and he can not really see them as real equals. My thoughts around Asuna’s case is... a bit complicated and I think it’s a bit situational unfortunate for her, but that is a topic for another time when I will go back and discuss Mother’s Rosario LN & WoU.

... If my fluctlight’s battle processor was a current-model silicon CPU, then Eugeo’s was a next-generation diamond CPU. I was still playing the role of instructor to him, but it was only because I had more experience and knowledge. If Eugeo kept improving at his current pace, it wouldn’t be long before our positions were switched.

... If I could solve all the problems afflicting the Underworld and escape safely with Eugeo’s fluctlight intact, I wanted to have him dive into ALfheim Online instead—I was certain that the lightcube was capable of interfacing with all Seed-based VR worlds equally—so that he could meet Asuna, Leafa, Klein, and all the others. Here’s my first pupil and best friend, I’d say to them.

Kirito thinks Eugeo has a lot of potential, he’s proud for it and part of his reasons for fighting is to bring Eugeo to real world with him. This is really sad when we know the outcome.

2) That time when Kirito gave Eugeo a pep talk when they were taking care of Zephyria flowers. The anime scene is very beautiful, but I like the depiction in the LN more simply because of this Kirito’s thought:

Eugeo trembled again under my palm. I willed strength into my hand, wishing it would flow through my fingers like it had just done for the plants. ‘You are strong. You are. You’re the one who made the decision to leave your home, in this world bound by laws and rules.’

Kirito never thought of Eugeo as weak, he even admired Eugeo’s desire to change, thinking that it’s his strength, and that’s why he gave Eugeo the mental boost.

1) Eugeo’s monologue when he saw Kirito came for him on the 100th Floor of the Cathedral

‘Kirito…there you are…’ Something deep inside him throbbed with an emotion he couldn’t even name. But that pain wasn’t an unpleasant one. It was certainly much gentler than the suffering he’d felt when the Piety Module was jammed into his head—and more wistful and sweet.

Eugeo felt so loved, so grateful to the boy who came for him right then. It’s on the reader to think what that emotion is, but it can’t be simple. Right?

MANGA

3) Kirito used Eugeo’s elbow as his pillow in Lycoris manga:

2) The adaptation of the iconic half hug in “I’ve been waiting for you in this forest for 6 year” from the LN that the anime cut

1) Kirito’s euphoric tears when Eugeo is still alive after Admin fight in Lycoris manga:

GAMES

3) That time Kirito waited for Eugeo all night to go back from some business:

2) That time Kirito missed everyone in the real world, Eugeo doesn’t know the truth but he wanted to cheer up Kirito, so they talked about their emotions in midnight and it got weirdly blushy:

1) At near the end game of Lycoris, a tragedy happened that made Kirito devastated, Eugeo is the first one to ask if he’s OK and even ran to hug him tightly. Now you know I’m a sucker for this kind of comfort and assurance

[hungover-and-broke-student]

esthetics for the entities, part i.   bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here.  this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning.  the comfort of a loved one’s weight.  soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.   insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.   shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north.  an empty church.

iv.  the desolation.   senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one.  disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

v.  the flesh.   body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiitng for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  the end.   the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambiling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  the eye.   googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t watch away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism.  police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines.  sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters.  hide and seek.  running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you.  blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls.  focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstorous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed.  completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone.  fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd.  a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles.  a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows.  isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.  depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you.  talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter.    a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby.  improvised weapons.  blinding rage.  intent to kill.  a horrific day in a quiet community.  a medal of bravery.  holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers.  a knifeblock on the counter.  a pool of blood.  shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward.  unimaginable pain.  not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster.  an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.  kill or be killed.  unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral.   sleep deprivation.  corridors you can get lost in.  maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions.  losing people.  losing your sanity.  corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality.  walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallucinations.  wrong proportions.  a nameless thing.  a place that has never existed.  doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.  loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger.   wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together.  the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings.  mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins.  a machine imitating humanity.  the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight.  uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices.  images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii.  the vast.   open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in an universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you.  staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control.  a fall that doesn’t end in death.  glass floor to the view below.  terminal velocity.  the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building.  falling into nothing.  feeling your feet let go of the ground.  a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate.  manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap.  never voicing discomfort.  outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realising it.  red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unrealiability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny lengs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing.  suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

+  the extinction.   the end of an era.  apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism.  the last written history.  a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

TAGGED BY:  @brokentoys

TAGGING: steal it! @monomaniiametus @tricksterreformed-a @acriminallawyer

[notstolen]

aesthetics for the entities. bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.  insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment. breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites. something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark. shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night. time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north. an empty church.

v.  the flesh. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone. long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

iv.  the desolation.  senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire. heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one. disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

vi.  the end. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain. ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death. as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines. sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters. hide and seek. running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls. focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstrous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

vii.  the eye. googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t look away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism. police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers. books that read you back.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone. fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows. isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea. depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter. a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby. improvised weapons.  blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions. losing people.  losing your sanity. corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality. walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallucinations.  wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger. wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings. mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices. images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate. manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unreliability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny legs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

xiii.  the vast. open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in a universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

+  the extinction. the end of an era. apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism. the last written history. a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

tagged by: stole it from one of my other blogs

tagging: @xwhiterabbitx, @lonexwolfe, @desolationtrial ( for ari since i think you might’ve done this for norman already? )

[cloakedinfall-a]

aesthetics for the entities bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning.  the comfort of a loved one’s weight.  soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.   insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.   shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north.  an empty church.

v.  the flesh.   body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiitng for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

iv.  the desolation.   senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one.  disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

vi.  the end.   the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambiling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines.  sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters.  hide and seek.  running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you.  blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls.  focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstorous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

vii.  the eye.   googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t watch away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism.  police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed.  completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone.  fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd.  a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles.  a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows.  isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.  depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you.  talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter.    a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby.  improvised weapons.  blinding rage.  intent to kill.  a horrific day in a quiet community.  a medal of bravery.  holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers.  a knifeblock on the counter.  a pool of blood.  shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward.  unimaginable pain.  not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster.  an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.  kill or be killed.  unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral.   sleep deprivation.  corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions.  losing people.  losing your sanity.  corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality.  walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallusinations.  wrong proportions.  a nameless thing.  a place that has never existed.  doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.  loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger.   wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together.  the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings.  mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins.  a machine imitating humanity.  the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight.  uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices.  images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate.  manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap.  never voicing discomfort.  outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realising it.  red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unrealiability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny legs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing.  suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

xiii.  the vast.   open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in an universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you.  staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control.  a fall that doesn’t end in death.  glass floor to the view below.  terminal velocity.  the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building.  falling into nothing.  feeling your feet let go of the ground.  a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

TAGGED BY:  stole it. 

+  the extinction.   the end of an era.  apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism.  the last written history.  a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

TAGGING:  @theaterism <any of them> @dcigrxtia @tragicblood @runnerkiller @pickdroses @fartemis-crock @rxdhairxdsirxns @nullcide @discipulusmaleficus @bustcdkneecaps <elias>

[desolationtrial]

aesthetics for the entities. bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.  insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment. breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites. something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark. shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night. time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north. an empty church.

v.  the flesh. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone. long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

iv.  the desolation.  senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire. heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one. disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

vi.  the end. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain. ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death. as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines. sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters. hide and seek. running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls. focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstrous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

vii.  the eye. googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t look away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism. police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers. books that read you back.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone. fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows. isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea. depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter. a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby. improvised weapons.  blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions. losing people.  losing your sanity. corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality. walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallucinations.  wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger. wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings. mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices. images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate. manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unreliability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny legs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

xiii.  the vast. open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in a universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

+  the extinction. the end of an era. apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism. the last written history. a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

Tagged by: @notstolen Tagging: @the-mind-of-xelyn, @detective-with-one-arm, @dpds-finest, @shotdownbutstillalive, @swatteam60, @wearera9

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

‘Drunk in an Elevator’ SAW 2020 Day 3

Post-TSoT. Sherlock and Molly. The lift gets stuck. A bottle of champagne is all they have to survive the night.

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

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               Despite everything, Molly had decided to come in to work that night. It was an odd shift since she was filling in for another fill-in who had gotten sick, but she didn’t mind. If anything, she hoped working would take her mind off the incident at the Watsons’ wedding reception. When she clocked in, Stamford had asked her about the wedding, and she responded in kind, but the entire thing was miserable for her. He handed her a bottle of champagne to be given to the newlyweds, but Molly wasn’t sure it would make it that far.

               She made her way to the lift, stepping inside when it opened up. Just before she chose her destination, a familiar baritone voice called out to her.

               “Hold the lift!” Sherlock Holmes practically ran toward her. “Molly, I didn’t realise you worked tonight.”

               Pressing the button for the morgue, she replied, “I had tonight off, but the person filling in for me got sick, so now I’m filling in for the fill-in.”

               “What about your fiancé?”

               “What about him?” Molly scoffed.

               Before Sherlock could reply, the lift lurched, tossing Molly into him. He caught her in his arms and didn’t let go until it shook one more time, screeching to a halt. “Are you alright?”

               Molly wriggled her way out from his arms. “No,” she admitted, “but thank God this bottle of champagne survived.” She struggled with the cork, muttering to herself until ultimately giving up. “Damn it!”

               Sherlock moved closer, his hand outstretched. “Here,” he spoke softly, “allow me.” He pulled the cork from the bottle with ease, and Molly screamed from the suddenness, but ended up laughing. “See? Nothing to it…Molly?” Her laughter had turned to cries, and she had backed to the left back corner of the lift.

               She was aware of how pathetic she looked in this moment, but Molly couldn’t find it within herself to give a damn. Sherlock approached her cautiously, offering her the bottle. She gladly took it, taking a good long swig of it. Tears stained her reddened face and she slunk down to the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest. Sherlock joined her on the floor, his concern plain as the nose on his face. “Come to wallow in self-pity with me, then?” She offered him the bottle as a joke, surprising her when he took it.

               “What happened, Molly? What did Tom do to you?” he asked.

               It’s funny, she thought, he remembers names with ease when his friends are hurting.

               When she didn’t answer, he pressed on. “Molly, I’m serious, if he laid a hand on you, I—“

               “He didn’t do anything, Sherlock.” She looked up into his eyes, now a dark maelstrom due to the anger that had bubbled up inside him. Molly laid a hand on his arm, reassuring him. “I promise you it was nothing like that.” He appeared to have visibly calmed down after that.

               “Do you want to talk about it?”

               Molly grabbed the bottle from him. “Maybe. Not yet. I need more champagne.”

               Giving a soft chuckle, Sherlock realised there could be worse things than getting drunk in a broken down lift with the woman he secretly loved.

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               Molly was lying on the floor, her hair splayed out beneath her. A quarter of the bottle had already disappeared. She had her hands together, resting against her nose and lips in true Sherlock fashion. “Do you think humanity is well-equipped for handling tragic situations? Some die of literal heartbreak, you know.”

               Sherlock turned toward her, scrunching his face at the pose she was making. “Are you mocking me?”

               A short laugh escaped her. “Maybe a bit.” Her hands dropped to her stomach. “Seriously, though, in your professional opinion, do you think we’re meant to handle all these tragedies or are we meant to die from them whether they happen to us or someone else.”

               “It’s a morbid topic,” he remarked. “I think—and this is very cliché—that only the strong survive. Only a person with an abundance of resilience and strength of mind can truly survive. Take you for example. I admire the strength you exhibit. To deal with me, you’d have to be resilient.”

               This warmed her. “Plus, I dated a psychopath.”

               Sherlock laughed. “And broke up with him.”

               “He must’ve been so torn.”

               A beat of silence passed and then they laughed at the notion of a heartbroken James Moriarty.

               “And Tom,” Molly continued, “thinking the murder weapon was a meat dagger! Worst case of secondhand embarrassment I’ve ever felt in my life.” Though Sherlock was laughing, Molly noticed that his smile didn’t reach his eyes.  

               “Hey,” she spoke in a quiet, gentle voice, “you look sad.”

               “Sad? Me? Nooo, I’m fine.”

               Molly took his hand in hers, squeezing it affectionately. “You’re not, but that’s okay. You’ve got me.”

               “Do I?” The words left his mouth before he had time to think. They tasted bitter on his tongue. He took another swig.

               “What’s that supposed to mean?” Molly questioned, sitting straight up.

               “Well, you certainly never thought to wait for me to come back,” Sherlock told her. “Instead you went off and got yourself engaged to a man who’s my exact opposite.”

               She scoffed in disbelief. “You told me you hoped I would be happy. Did you not wish that!?”

               “Of course I want you to be happy, Molly!” Sherlock’s voice broke. “But I hoped you would have rather been happy with me. You broke my heart.”

               Her voice softened. “You never even asked me to wait for you. I would have had I known.”

               “I know.” Sherlock looked off, diverting his eyes from her. They sat in silence for a few moments, unmoving. He finally turned toward Molly, her head leaning against the wall of the lift. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. He moved closer, filling in the space between them, and began wiping the drops off her face with the pad of his thumb. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start a fight.”

               Molly closed her eyes, losing herself in the sound of his voice. “I fought with Tom tonight. About you, actually.” She took a moment to compose herself. “I was gonna see if you were okay when I noticed you leave the reception. I just wanted to check up on you, but I let Tom convince me to leave you be.” She sniffled. “I regretted it and I expressed how worried I was about you. He told me I had to choose between him and you, and that he was tired of me putting you first.”

               “So you…left?” he asked.

               “I left,” she confirmed, noticing his eyes drifting to the ring that remained on her finger. Molly twisted the offending jewelry off and threw it at the doors of the lift. “Only thing is, it appears it was all for naught.”

               Sherlock offered a heartfelt smile. He stood, offering his hand to her. “Take my hand.”

               “What are you—?”

               “Just take my hand,” he told her, “please.”

               Molly tipped the bottle back before doing as he asked. Her fingers landed delicately on his, and he pulled her up and into his arms. Sherlock placed one hand at the small of her back and laced his fingers with hers with the other. “Dance with me.”

               “But—“

               “Shhh,” he sounded. He then began humming softly a familiar tune.

               Right there, in that moment, it was heaven. The warmth of his hand on her back, the comfort of his voice; her heart relaxed with him. Sure, in the beginning, your heart palpitates when you’re around a crush or just someone you find attractive, but you know it’s the real thing when the very presence of the person you love can calm the raging sea within you. A small gasp escaped her when she felt his lips pressed to her temple. He continued humming the final chorus of the song and dipped her at the end, pulling her back up and holding her.

               “Sherlock,” she whispered. “Do you still love me?”

               “I could never stop,” he admitted, pulling back to look in her warm brown eyes. “I have always loved you. And I still do.”

               “Could I turn back the clock and accept your offer of extra portions of chips?” she asked.

               Sherlock chuckled. “I’m afraid there’s no turning back time, Miss Hooper, but how about we go for chips tomorrow evening?”

               “I’d like that,” she replied. And then her hands slid into his unruly curls, pulling him down far enough to reach him. Her lips brushed his, softly, delicately. Sherlock relished the feeling, inhaling her champagne-laced breath; the warmth of her supple mouth had him sighing softly against her.

               “Molly,” he sighed her name as their lips met over and over. Sherlock took her waist, pulling her against him, caressing her curves.

               “Mmm, love you,” she spoke softly as she broke away. She was now tracing his jawline, her tongue darting out to taste him. Sherlock felt helpless as she began to explore the crevices of his neck, locating his pulse point where her lips lingered for a moment, and how the velvet of her tongue filled the hollow of his throat. She worked her way back up, her mouth hovering over the sensitive spot just below his ear. “I’ve missed you.”

               “My darling,” he breathed, “I’ve missed you too.” Sherlock took her hand in his and seated himself on the floor, guiding her to his lap. He grabbed the bottle, offering it to her. She smiled, taking it for another sip or two and Sherlock did the same when she handed it back. The bottle was just over halfway gone between the two of them.

               Molly giggled happily, biting her lip as she held his face in her hands. “I love you, Sherlock.” She pressed a lingering, slow kiss to his lips. Her hands slipped from his face and she took a heavy breath. “It’s so warm in here.”

               “Maybe we shouldn’t have drunk John and Mary’s champagne,” he laughed. “Alcohol tends to bring an excessive volume of blood to the skin’s surface making—“ he stopped short as he watched Molly slip her t-shirt over her head and onto the floor, leaving only a lacy purple bra as a barrier between him and her soft breasts. He swallowed hard. “—the skin warm. So warm.”

               “Problem?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

               His tried to catch his breath, but his erratic heartbeat had other plans. “You are so beautiful.” Sherlock returned her sweet smile before he buried his head against her neck, nudging her dark waves aside to access her clavicle. He traced the hollow just above the bone with his gentle mouth. Molly carded her fingers through his curls, a rush of warmth building up within her. She gasped as he placed warm, tender kisses upon the swell of her breasts. He lifted his head, meeting her eyes. “It is…quite warm in here.”

               Molly helped him out of his coat and jacket, and Sherlock shoved the sleeves of his button-up to his elbows. He watched, completely besotted by this woman—his best friend and now lover—as she threw her hair up into a messy bun. “Ahh, that’s better,” she remarked with a smile. Sherlock considered taking another drink, but Molly beat him to the bottle now pressed to her lips as she drank from it, never taking her eyes off his. “I’ve always loved your eyes—sectoral heterochromia suits you well.”

               “Only you would flirt with science whilst tipsy,” Sherlock laughed, his eyes crinkling.

               “You look about ten years younger when you genuinely smile,” she told him. “Do I make you happy?”

               “Oh, very much so,” he answered, unable to keep the smile off his face. “I’ve never felt happier.” Sherlock locked his arms around her, hugging her tight. He drew circles on the small of her back with the pad of his thumb. Molly laid her head in the crook of his neck, resting on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin, even and relaxed. “Thank you, Molly.”

               “For what?” she mumbled sleepily.

               “For loving me.” He could feel her lips turn up into a smile, and soon, she was dead to the world. “Goodnight, Molly.” Sherlock pressed his lips into her hair before resting his own head atop of hers. He continued to rub circles against her skin until he, too, fell asleep.

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               “…both here last night…must have gotten stuck…”

               Sherlock cracked open his eyes, his vision blurry. Molly was still in his arms, sleeping like a rock. She was absolutely exhausted.

               “What the hell happened here?” Greg asked in amusement taking in Molly’s state of undress and the nearly empty bottle of champagne. “Looks like you two have had a long night.”

               “Mm, Scotland Yard, why’re you here?” Sherlock mumbled.

               “I came lookin’ for ya, and Stamford here just now got the guys to fix the lift. You’re free to go,” Greg explained. “So…your flat or hers?”

               “Mine—it’s closer,” Sherlock replied. Then to Molly, he spoke softly, nudging her awake. “Molly, I need you to help me, darling.” She stirred in his arms, lifting her head from his shoulder, confusion written on her face. “The lift’s been fixed. We need to get your t-shirt back on.” He grabbed it from the pile that held his coat and jacket, and slipped it back over her head as she put her arms through.

               “M’so tired,” she yawned. “My head is—Oh!” Sherlock had lifted her up into his arms, carrying her out of the lift.

“Graham, could you grab our things?” Sherlock asked.

               The detective-inspector sighed. “It’s Greg.”

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               She opened her eyes slowly, woken by the sound of bow meeting violin. The tune was familiar, a favourite of hers. Molly slipped out of bed—his bed—and padded her way softly through the sitting room. Sherlock, adorned in his blue dressing gown, faced the window as he played. She approached him, wrapping her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

Her head rested against his shoulder blade. “Bach, Suite Number Three,” she noted. “You play it beautifully.” Molly reluctantly let him go, allowing him to store his violin and bow away.

“Thank you,” he replied with a quick smile. “How’s your head?”

“Much better,” she told him. “Look, I just—what happened in the lift—I’m giving you an out, you know, if you want it.”

He frowned, his worried eyes boring into hers. “Why do you think I’d want an out?”

“Because it was late, and we were exhausted…and tipsy,” she replied. “Don’t get me wrong, Sherlock, I want this. I want you, but I don’t want you to resent me. If I became a distraction from the work you love to do, you’d hate me for it, and I couldn’t bear knowing how you’d look at me if it came to that.”

Sherlock’s face fell. He could hear the tremble of her voice, worried that he would one day hate her. It damn near broke his heart. “Molly,” he uttered softly, knowing that the next words out of his mouth were going to be very important. “I was wrong before.”

These four words caught her attention and she encouraged him with her eyes to go on. Sherlock moved closer, taking her hands in his.

“I once refused to believe that the work took precedence over everything, and for a time, it did. It had been the most important part of my life until it introduced me to what was really important, or rather who,” Sherlock explained. “My work brought me to you, and that has been the most rewarding part of it. I was falling in love with you before I was fully aware of it, and I only knew for a fact how I felt when I approached you in my darkest hour. Molly Hooper, it is a privilege to love and be loved by you. If I were to ever resent anyone, it would be myself for not having told you sooner. You are the most important part of my life, Molly, and I am so deeply in love with you.”

Molly gave a watery smile, her eyes shining from the tears building up, threatening to spill. “Oh, Sherlock,” she cried, throwing her arms around him. The dam broke, and her tears spilled over, overcome with joy. “I’m so happy we got drunk in the lift,” she laughed. Sherlock pressed a fervent kiss to her lips, promising himself he would never let her go again.  

[hyperions-angel]

aesthetics for the entities.

bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

(original post on sagamemes here & here; this is post combining both into one long post under the cut)

i. the buried.   

weighed blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust and sand speaking to you.

ii. the corruption.   

insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. the dark.   

shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. the desolation.   

senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. a kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. the flesh.   

body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance and appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. the end.   

the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul and spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the plead of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. the eye.   

googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colours. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. the hunt.   

sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide and seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks and growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark and running after it.

ix. the lonely.   

an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realize they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. the slaughter.   

a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knife-block on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. the spiral.   

sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes and tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. the stranger.   

wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs and pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter and sequins. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. the vast.   

open spaces. carnival rides going up and down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles and miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. the web.   

undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak-willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realizing it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unreliability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs and fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ the extinction.   

the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivors. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

tagged by: @maliwan012

tagging: @numericalassassin @thehandsomeasshole @redjaybird

I’m not sure I did any of this right but I tried my best! Thank you for tagging me in this, it was super fun! Also sorry for the long post and small font, I wasn’t able to change it.

[maliwan012]

aesthetics for the entities.

bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

(original post on sagamemes here & here; this is post combining both into one long post under the cut)

i. the buried.   weighed blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust and sand speaking to you.

ii. the corruption.   insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. the dark.   shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. the desolation.   senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. a kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. the flesh.   body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance and appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. the end.   the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul and spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the plead of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. the eye.   googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colours. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. the hunt.   sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide and seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks and growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark and running after it.

ix. the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. the slaughter.   a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. the spiral.   sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes and tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. the stranger.   wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs and pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter and sequins. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. the vast.   open spaces. carnival rides going up and down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles and miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. the web.   undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak-willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unreliability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs and fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ the extinction.   the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivors. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

tagged by: no-one! stole it from @sagamemes (idk if you’d mind me @’ing u but uh <3 thank u for making this thing!) tagging: @mysterybusiness , @agentbeyond , @floyb , @gracesmuses , @grenkids , @hyperions-angel , @skiesking , @elegys , @sonicbreak , @writedisaster , @ everyone who sees this (or else.. :gun: /jk)

[deivorous]

aesthetics for the entities.   bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning.   the comfort of a loved one’s weight.  soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.   looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.   hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.   insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi. one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.   honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.   the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.   death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.   shadows. lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.   winter months in the north.  an empty church.

iv.  the desolation.  senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air. a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.   plastic explosives.  burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one.  disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.   the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

v.  the flesh.  body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  the end.  the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.   existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.   the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.   someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.   meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  the eye.  googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t look away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.   voyerism.  police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.   smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

viii.  THE HUNT. -  sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.   the woods.   the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.   sharpened claws.   being tracked.   fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters.   hide and seek.  running away only to end up where you started.   staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you.   blood dripping from bare hands.   barks and growls.   focused eyes.   a victim going limp under your hands.   a mouth full of fresh blood.   catching the scent of something monstrous.  perfecting your craft. peering into the dark and running after it.

ix.  THE LONELY.   -  an apartment too small for a double bed.  completely vacant streets.   waking up to see everyone gone.   fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in.   alone in a faceless crowd.   a mask with nothing behind it.   separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be.   a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group.   streets without lights in the windows.   isolation.   not truly knowing your friends.   your friends not truly knowing you.   need for silence.   fear of crowds.   staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.   depression.   knowing your friends are better off without you.   talking to someone only to realize they’re gone.   a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  THE SLAUGHTER.  -  a game of tag. senseless violence.    a true crime hobby.   improvised weapons.   blinding rage.   intent to kill.   a horrific day in a quiet community.  a medal of bravery.   holding on to what validates your anger.   history books that spare no details.   an injury you want revenge for.   war.   counting kills.   songs of soldiers.   a knifeblock on the counter.  a pool of blood.  shellshock.   unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward.  unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.   kill or be killed.   unedited wartime memoirs.   a weapons collection.   not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.   loss of hope.   there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  THE SPIRAL.   -  sleep deprivation.   corridors you can get lost in.   maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.   losing possessions.   losing people.   losing your sanity.   corkscrew curls.   rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door.   delusions.   not knowing what your hands are doing.   blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions.  a nameless thing.   a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind.   blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.   distorted sound.   an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.   loss of time.   a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.   an unnatural laugh.   jokes and tricks.   illusions.   a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.   limbs in impossible angles.   doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  THE STRANGER.   -  wax figures.   a close approximation of a human face.   a borrowed appearance.   a strange smell.   glass eyes.  furs and pelts.   a dance.   a song of a choir.   the uncanny valley.   stitching yourself together.   the colours of a circus.   a puppet with no strings.   mannequins.   glitter and sequin.   a stranger you’ve always known.   someone strange in the place of someone you knew.   stolen identities.   stolen skins.  a machine imitating humanity.   the anonymity of a service worker.   hiding in plain sight.   uncomfortable to look at.   a faked accent.  concealing. forgetting who you are.   forgetting who others are.   a replacement no one notices.   images that look posed.   the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii.  THE VAST.   -  open spaces.   carnival rides going up and down.   fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in an universe.  stomach turning at a drop.   fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.   the sway of a cable car.   an adventure holiday.   losing track of where the surface is.   miles and miles of nothing around you.   staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.   loss of control.   a fall that doesn’t end in death.   glass floor to the view below.   terminal velocity.   the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.   a jump from the top of the building.   falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground.   a leap of faith.   motion sickness.

xiv.  THE WEB.  -  undecipherable code.   a puppeteer holding the strings.   power over the weak-willed.   strings of fate.   manipulation.   an arranged accident.   a hundred minions doing your bidding.   cobwebs.   spiders.  a laid trap.   never voicing discomfort.   outwitting a cheater.   doing things without realizing it.  red string across a corkboard.   finding something lost where you were sure you checked.   power over the unreliability of chance.   watching others dance for you.   an entangled death.   a thousand tiny legs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing.   suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.   connections.   the world wide web.   power of victimhood.  gullibility.   no control over your own decisions.   an invisible leash.   mass psychology.   a horror film in the making.   scapegoat.   never remembering to ask for a name.

+  THE EXTINCTION.   - the end of an era.  apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.   a desolate landscape.   end of the world cults.   nihilism.   the last written history.   a changed world.   no survivours.  old prophecies.   a thousand predicted ends.   a new chapter.   an end with no escape.   catastrophes.   a calendar counting down.   breaking point.   overindulgence.

Stolen! from: @paismurcielago​ Tagging: Its free real estate

[wiresdonttalk]

aesthetics for the entities.

bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

(original post on sagamemes here & here; this is post combining both into one long post under the cut)

i. the buried.  

weighed blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust and sand speaking to you.

ii. the corruption.  

insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. the dark.  

shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. the desolation.  

senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. a kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. the flesh.  

body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance and appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. the end.  

the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul and spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the plead of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. the eye.  

googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colours. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. the hunt.  

sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide and seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks and growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark and running after it.

ix. the lonely.  

an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realize they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. the slaughter.  

a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knife-block on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. the spiral.  

sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes and tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. the stranger.  

wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs and pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter and sequins. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. the vast.  

open spaces. carnival rides going up and down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles and miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. the web.  

undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak-willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realizing it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unreliability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs and fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ the extinction.  

the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivors. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

tagged by: no one

tagging: anyone who wants to do this

[architectrialed]

aesthetics for the entities. bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.  insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment. breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites. something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark. shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night. time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north. an empty church.

v.  the flesh. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone. long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

iv.  the desolation.  senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire. heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one. disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

vi.  the end. the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain. ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death. as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines. sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters. hide and seek. running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls. focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstrous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

vii.  the eye. googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t look away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism. police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers. books that read you back.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone. fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows. isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea. depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realize they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter. a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby. improvised weapons.  blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions. losing people.  losing your sanity. corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality. walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallucinations.  wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger. wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings. mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices. images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate. manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unreliability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny legs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

xiii.  the vast. open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in an universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

+  the extinction. the end of an era. apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism. the last written history. a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

tagged by: stole it

tagging: @weregonnagetyou, @inactivestatus-rq800 (for Carter maybe?), whoever else wants to do it

[delphicc]

aesthetics for the entities.

bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

(original post on sagamemes here & here; this is post combining both into one long post under the cut)

i. the buried.  

weighed blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust and sand speaking to you.

ii. the corruption.  

insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. the dark.  

shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. the desolation.  

senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. a kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. the flesh.  

body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance and appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. the end.  

the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul and spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the plead of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. the eye.  

googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colours. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. the hunt.  

sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide and seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks and growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark and running after it.

ix. the lonely.  

an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realize they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. the slaughter.  

a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knife-block on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. the spiral.  

sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes and tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. the stranger.  

wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs and pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter and sequins. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. the vast.  

open spaces. carnival rides going up and down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles and miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. the web.  

undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak-willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realizing it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unreliability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs and fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ the extinction.  

the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivors. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

tagged by: @redjaybird

tagging: @numericalassassin, @thexharvester, and anyone else who wants to