Oh Hyenas & Their Catnip 🙂‍↔️

gonna go play in my carrd again then maybe icon a lil

At the far end of the street, on my side, was the silhouette of a man, dancing. It was a strange dance, similar to a waltz, but he finished each “box” with an odd forward stride. I guess you could say he was dance-walking, headed straight for me.

[…] He was very tall and lanky, and wearing an old suit. He danced closer still, until I could make out his face. His eyes were open wide and wild, head tilted back slightly, looking off at the sky. His mouth was formed in a painfully wide cartoon of a smile.

— The Smiling Man

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓   𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑   𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒   𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑   𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄   𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋   𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄?

deep staining red. ripped out confessions, warm velvety whispers and a heart like an open wound. your love flows out like dripping blood, beautiful, flawed and twisted. it's gut wrenching, the type of painfully dramatic feeling that makes you clutch your chest, picturing dramatic monologues about love and loving and big screen over the top scenes of sobbing into your pillow until you fall asleep. it rips out of you, clawing it's way up your throat more so than tumbling out. sticky words that just need to be let out, feelings so big they don't fit inside you. your love isn't easy, it's a true bloody mess, dripping and staining everything it touches in a desperate attempt to be seen, to be felt, to be loved back. and you, you love so hard, so deeply, so much for someone who carries all that pain. atlas holding up the world, how are you? is your love still flowing? is your heart still open? still pumping and bleeding and dripping with blood and tears? still painting your beautiful pictures and writing your love letters in deeply personal red ink? because i see them, i read them, i love them and you, you, you, you. clench your chest, scream your love, cry it out. spill your words of loving, keep your heart beating, keep your love coming and paint the entire world red with it. make it in your image, keep going, it's okay. maybe one day the whole world can be red and loved and beautiful just like you.

tagged by: @hadobreeze ty ty tagging: steal it.

❛ yeah. ❜

She smells shit [a guy who she confessed to only for him to pick up and magic his way out of her life like days later]… “Am I losing my mind?”

Thor Ragnarok (2017)

@giftober 2024 + @mcuchallenge | Day 8/31: Home

The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999) dir. Anthony Minghella

tongue   runs   across   teeth,   jagged   fangs   that   part   for   even   sharper   words.   the   beast,   it   walks   amongst   the   shadows   of   the   streets,   its   rot   of   death   close   behind.   peering   from   the   foliage,   peering   from   the   shadows——   it   saw   everything.   from   the   birth   of   millions   stars   to   the   deaths   of   countless   others.   (   light   /   shadow   )   it's   not   coexistence   ...   rather   codependency.   if   there's   good,   then   surely   evil   exists,   words   to   define,   to   restrict   and   simplify   reality.   neither   concept   exists,   or   rather   ...   it's   pointless   to   define   them   because   you   will   always   be   what   someone   else   decides.   whether   that's   the   universe——   a   friend——   an   enemy.   (   there   are   no   choices.   )

❛   oh   stop   it,   you.   ❜   smile   becomes   loose,   biting   onto   her   words.   ❛   if   that   were   the   case,   you   wouldn't   be   here.   ❜   not   alone,   not   with   him   of   all   people.   soulless,   heartless——   a   knack   fo   finding   broken   things.   (   were   these   ...   him?   did   he   finally   choose   for   himself?   at   last   ...   )   another   step,   a   laugh   that's   too   far   too   crude   to   be   kind   anymore.   each   step   an   advance,   each   step   closer   and   closer   to   wounded   creature.   ❛   let   me   let   you   in   on   a   secret,   darling.   that   pit   in   the   bottom   of   your   stomach   ...   that   shadow   you   see   flit   in   the   corner   of   your   eye   ...   that   weight   you   tie   to   your   life,   well,   it's   all   rubbish.   ❜   curt,   dry.

glint   of   amusement   in   his   gaze,   dulls.   pools   of   nothingness——   of   heavy   truth,   sit   before   her.   a   reflection   of   a   reflection.   far   too   warped.   far   too   twisted.   it   does   not   view   the   world   with   eyes   at   all.   it   does   not   hear   or   see.   it   simply   ...   is.   cold,   hard,   unfeeling.   floating   above   lofty   things   like   ideals   &.   reason.   (   could   they   even   be   in   the   same   world   at   all?   )   ❛   but,   to   answer   your   question   ...   hmmmmm   ...   no.   questions   are   one   of   the   few   pleasures   in   the   world   for   me.   listening   to   people   lie——   it's   rather   fun.   ❜   dim   light   returns   like   candle   finding   flame,   a   cool   heat   sits   within   martin's   gaze.   mercy?   ❛   ...   now,   how   bout   this,   i   patch   up   those   nasty   little   wounds   and   you   can   cling   to   life   as   you   always   have   or   ...   you   can   well, throw in the towel.   give   up. start the next chapter, so to speak. ❜ ( rest. )

❛ Oh, you think I'm pretending? ❜ A scoff followed, a harsh, dismissive sound that echoed years of cynicism, accompanied by a sharp glint in her eyes that betrayed something deeper. The words hung in the air, pressing against her like an invisible hand to her throat. ❛ Let me tell you a secret — there’s no act to keep up when there’s no one left to pretend for. ❜

It was a bitter truth, a loneliness that had become her constant companion and consumed her very being with every fiber of her existence. Fending for herself had become second nature, from the harsh days of her early adolescence up until now. She had endured in a world that offered no solace, no guidance, only the relentless pressure to survive. 

And yet... she could never quite escape the heavy burden that it placed upon her shoulders, nor the dreadful feeling that settled within her chest as she spoke those words, a hollow ache that whispered of something lost, something perhaps never possessed at all. Despite her outward bravado and unrelenting expression, she couldn't quiet the whispering voice in the back of her head that questioned her own statement. Pretending — wasn't that the foundation of her very existence? The only thing that kept her afloat in a world that had deemed her the villain, a despicable, wretched being ever since she drew her first breath? The act of a mere human, trying to blend in and be accepted, had been her first role, but had she ever really stopped hiding behind the facades she'd constructed?  

But even then... nothing mattered, really — except the fact that she would keep pretending. Because what was the alternative? To crumble? To break down and reveal vulnerability to a world that wouldn’t offer any sympathy? 

She forced a brittle smile, the edges sharp and unforgiving. ❛ But tell me, does it ever get tiring trying to pick apart things you’ll never understand? ❜ The deflection carried a sardonic edge — a challenge, a dare, and something dangerously close to a plea. 

sweeping   sângeros   with   a   single   look,   smile   never   wavers,   even   standing   before   the   counter.   senses   catch   a   whiff——   faint   lingering   attachment——   equal   parts   magic.   neat,   worth   mulling   over   for   the   challenge   of   it   (   but   far   less   important   to   him   than   this. )   he   slips   a   ring   off   gloved   finger,   a   silver   band   etched   with   symbols,   the   faintest   glow   lingering   in   engravings   like   dimming   lights.   dim,   weak,   dying.

❛   ciao, bella   !   lookin'   for   a   ring   like   this   one.   brighter   though.   uh,   hot   to   the   touch.   whispers   a   bit   when   you   wear   it.   ❜   sometimes   secrets,   sometimes   lies   about   the   stock   market.   really   depends   on   the   day.   ❛   figured   it   could've   ended   up   in   a   place   like   this.   pawned   off,   probably.   seen   anything   like   that,   love?   ❜ 

@amcssing | starter call

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 actual magic to walk through the front door. It's a lucky thing she's seldom caught unawares by it, given her own magical ability. Even if she didn't have that though, she can smell it on this one. Light- repressed, maybe?- but real.

"Welcome to Sângeros," she hums, perking up slightly from her position at the counter. Her long nails tap a quick beat against the back of her phone case, and then she casts a quick look around- a couple of vanilla wicca girls, more aesthetic than dedication, Nico in the stacks... nothing to worry about.

"What can I help ya find?"

anyways, little inbox call so i can at least say i did more than a few things today. it'll either be from your meme tag or smth a lil pre est off top.