WHERE DID  300  OF YOU COME FROM  (*ﾟﾛﾟ) ?!

❛    :    OOC    /    POOR RICKLESS BASTARD .     if you know me you`ll know i drop blogs as soon as the 100 mark comes around , there was only that   one   time i hit 200 so ????  300 is basically kinda like the   miracle number   for me ,, ,   i mean from frey , arno , midori , man … ..  i don`t think i even remember half the muses that`ve come and gone   –    i`ve been around the rpc since i was ??  12 ish  –  i`m 18 on the cusp of 19 and i don`t think i`ve kept   any   old rp buddies from my first days ,,  ,, ,  since i dropped muses faster than hot potatoes , ,   it`s been a wild ride , but i can tell you i don`t regret   any   of the new friendships i`ve made on this blog !  ! !!!   and honestly i was   really   hesitant on roleplaying a rick and morty character for the stigma there was for even watching the show, , ,,,,, , but it? ?   got to me so bad when i realized you guys would give my blog a chance anyways .           for that ,  thank you .         it`s such a big thing because ?? ? ?     i`ve managed to find a muse i`m   happy   and genuinely   comfortable   with writing and until the day he stops talking to me   –    i hope you guys will stick around to see what i`ll do with him .     ( ❁´◡`❁ )     without further ado :

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❛ tyki … do you think we’re running out of time ? ❜

   ‘  now  ,  now  ,  don’t  tell  me  you’ve  started  considering  some   fool’s  discount  doomsday  scheme .   ‘  such  HYPOCRISY  ,  and   from   a   true   harbinger  ,  no   less   !     indeed   ,   he  himself  had  fallen  victim  to  his  own  prophesied  end  –––    a  revelation  of  pure  idiocy  .  that   being  ,  how   the  axis  of  his  globe  might  very  well  find  a  full - stop   the  day  allen  .  .  .  no .  he’d  not  dwell  on  it  beside   him .  it  would  wane  the  smile  crowning  his  expression ,  whittle  the  humour  in  his  tone  down  to  something  hollow :  ergo  it   was  unacceptable  .  (  FOR  HIS  SAKE ,  THE  FARCE  REMAINS . )    yet ,  lo  ,  rejected   or  not ,  actuality  remained  scrawled  across  his  chest  and   neck   in  aged  scar  tissue  and  shared  history  ––––   no  ancient  calendar  nor  preached  falsehoods  could  instil  such  a  sense  of  HATRED  for  passing  days  as  the  thought  of  that   one  particular   absence  .  even   a colourful   world   was   hideously  LACKING  without   black   and   white .   he  fought  the  urge  to  let  a  hand  flit  to  his  face  ;   an  obvious  notation  of  his  unease ,  yes ,  and  an  ignorable  one  were  it  not  for  his  need  to  MASK  that  deep  disquiet .  but  his  voice  would  be  no  friend  to  a  confidence - man ,  and  whatever  con  he  was  playing  at  lay  long  forgotten  ,  mired  in  something  less  steady .  the  diluted  tar  of  truth ,  perhaps .  inescapable  and  choking   as   their   reality  .  (  perhaps   it   was   called   a   ' train   of   thought '   because   it   was   so  obvious   when  CRASHING .  )       ‘  hah  …  you  really  shouldn’t  think  too  much  on  it .  ‘  

lavienpeach . 

The air is submerged in the sharp fragrances of coconut milk and salt water, but if you cut through the smog of scents, you would be able to find a scent of cherry wine perfume. On the white sands of France, you could find her. There, amongst the glimmering ocean waters and below the champagne clouds, there is a girl. Her hair is swept with the wind, her cheeks rosy and her slightly wrists have peach nectar running down them. Her shapely leg is revealed in a slit of her white sundress. She twirls through the soft breeze, the cotton of her white gown billowing behind her like something angelic, like a pair of cherub wings. She’s barefoot, sinking her teeth into a peeled mango. Her tresses are blown away from her face as a sparkle shimmers deeply in her eyes. A French song plays on the radio nearby, giving her a sense of a romantic atmosphere.  The world is in a blurred haze. Everything seemed to be the color of the pearls around her neck. The sky was translucent, the sands were white, and the peach trees were pink. Honey seeps from her pores as she dances elegantly through the sand, her svelte arms outstretched upwards as her feet grace the sand. She looks like something pulled straight out of a renaissance painting. With her slim form and her excessive use of blush, she’s something romantique, something profound, and ambiguously deep.

❝ Are you enjoying yourself? ❞  // @rivaled

       ‘  how  could  i  NOT ?  ‘     he  loves   france .   loves  it   like  he   never  managed  to  love   portugal ,  trysts  with  the  spurned  and  the  forgotten  realised  in  shades  of  rich  trade - wind  ,  imported  tea .   yes ,  he  much  prefers  company  of  THIS  SORT  :  versailles   around  her  little  finger ,  the  parliament  of  paris  in  each   powdery  note  from  lips  borne  of  solis  rex  ,   of  an  era  modernly  bourgeoise  and  pleasantly  vintage  .   she  dances  like  light  through  a  finely - paned  window .  the  sort  craftsmen  had  forgotten  in  the  pursuit  of  dull  practicality  –––  a  missing  word  in  their  dictionary ,  cigarette  loosely  held  between  two  fingers  speaking  only  to  beloved  FIXATION ;  scent  of  citrus  recalling  naught  but  revelry .  exotic  notes   woven  throughout  balmy  air  like  bright  paint  over  a  woodcut .  they  were  untouchably  joyous  here :  a  boring  sentiment ,   perhaps ,  but  one  in  which  he’d  willingly  INDULGE .    ‘  although  i’d  enjoy  this  MORE  if  you’d  come  in  for  a  dip  ,  you  know .  ‘    one  hand  moves  to  the  buttons  of  his  shirt  :  hovers  there .  not  hesitant ,  rather  EXPECTANT .  (  not  like  he's  actually   been    swimming   yet .  )   ‘ water  looks  half  as  inviting  as  you  !  ‘  

Detail from Perseus and Andromeda by Joachim Anthoniszoon Wtewael.

noquietrevolution:

divinity will stain your fingers and mouth like a pomegranate. it will swallow you whole and spit you out, wine-dark and wanting. you will reach for it again and again, greedy human fingers clutching at everything you can reach. the divine will curl its way through your veins and take you over, and it will not leave you quietly. i feel divinity in my bones like aching; like fire.

ALLEN  . 

                   ❛ lord tyki … ❜  an incline to close the distance , he advances from behind the cushioned seat , fingers playing the melody of an alluring pirouette that falls against the man’s shoulders , a rhythm of his feverish pulse ignited by the other’s every glance .  ivory locks cascade , waterfall unravels , scent of wild roses captivating senses as loose strands fall past the man’s chest , feathering against his cheek . lips halt inches away from ears , a distance enough for his exhale to feel like a constellation of stars colliding in his lungs . in this moment , he’s the nebula among his universes , and murmurs are a quiet demand to be the only light mirrored in the man’s dark eyes . his throat runs dry on his words , the other is a god , and he swears by the gaze that he cannot tear away , he shouldn’t already want to offer his all .  ❛  fancy a drink ?  ❜

‘  THAT  DEPENDS ,   ‘    utterly  beguiling  ,   this   so - called  l’appel  du  vide   :  lovely  DEMISE  written  across  his  lips  .  truly  TANTALISING  .   somewhat  of  a  small  jape  at  life  then ,  that  he  should  lean  further  towards  that  end   –––  albeit  naught  but  a  slight  turn  of  his  head .  angle  precise  ,  sharp  as  each  blade  in  caesar’s  back   ;   ARTISTRY  in  how  he’s  almost  cheek  to  cheek  in  replying .  recklessly  so .   even  if  his  words  are  just  vague  enough ,  their  intonation  is  rather  a  shade  of  a  darker ,  richer  PROMISE   ––   nightblooming  nicotiana  .   preemptively  hooked  on  that  voice ,   that  smell ,  that  aura  of  VICE .   meanwhile  his   eyes   half -  lidded   as  if  trying  for  a  surreptitiously  bare  glance  at  the  eclipse  of  a  figure  afore  without  care   (  . . .   but  were  that  the  case  ,   he  would  long  since  have  been  a  BLIND   man  ) .  ‘  will  you  be  having  one  with  me  ?     ‘  

❀❀❀

Expulsion from the Garden of Eden (detail) by Peter Paul Rubens, 1620.

    You are a rose unfurling    ,     winter’s bloom.    Poison dripping down your throat and out of your bladed fingers.     You spin stars into black holes    ,     drive monsters to extinction in the dead heat of summer.     / /      IND. MASTERMIND GUNDAM TANAKA FROM SUPER DANGAN RONPA 2.

I AM SKIN SOLD, I AM PAIN LOSS. NOTHING MORE THAN HUMAN.

misetos.

                 This stranger had QUITE A WAY WITH WORDS– “Society is fucked up anyway isn’t it? Laws and guidelines that you’re supposed to follow for the SAFEST and most CONVENIENT life but we’re all such complex creatures why should a group of people who don’t know a DAMN THING about ya get a say on what rules you should follow! Sounds like bullshit to me.”

          ‘  ah  ,  i  couldn’t  agree  more  .  ‘    TRUTH  harkens  readily  ,  split  smile  like  the  slipping  blindfold  of  justice  :  a  PEEK ,  a  stolen  glance ,  forbidden  joy  blooming  ugly  and  poisonous  from  the  seed  of  CHAOS .  (  for  what  was  more  interesting  than  lack  of  prophesied  consequence ?   of  law  ignored ?   )   ‘  rules  themselves  are  at  their  core  just  BULLSHIT ,  as  you  say ,  aren’t  they  ?  all  made  for  someone’s  situational  gain  while  others  accept  them  as  pure  afterwards .  pretty   close - minded . ‘  

How do I look?Convincingly human?

Euripides, Bakkhai (trans. Anne Carson)

(　´∀｀)b

                                        it  was  blue,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  i’d  never  seen  the  sky  before,  and  yet,  i  had  known  it  my  whole  life.  ever  since  my  very  first  breath.                               

                                                               kanda  yuu  loved  by  rena.

I  need  a  SAVIOR  to  heal  my  pain  when  I  become  my  worst  enemy

another  year  of   torture  &  fun  &  both  off  the  calendar  (σ'∀')σ*。・゜+.*