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Claudia Rankine, from her book titled Don't Let Me Be Lonely: An American Lyric

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i have so many fcs saved up I am having a comically hard time choosing one for this OC ……

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^ ilsa when she gets to ruin someone's day.

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vintage 1970's romantic cream lace prairie dress | sororité

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making a detective OC to arrest all ur hooligans ✋

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" I'm just doing good business. "

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“… you seek my heart. Hunt all you want. Beneath each skin of mine Lies another skin.”

— Suji Kwock Kim, from “Monologue for an Onion,” Notes from the Divided Country

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emilio pucci | fall 2011 ready-to-wear (ph: gianni pucci / gorunway.com)

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Alicia Ostriker, from The Imaginary Lover; “In the twenty-fifth year of marriage, it goes on”

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“You don’t ask people with knives in their stomachs what would make them happy; happiness is no longer the point. It’s all about survival; it’s all about whether you pull the knife out and bleed to death or keep it in.”

— Nick Hornby, How to Be Good

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inbox / meme call! specify if you have more than one muse please.

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chanel rtw autmn 2o19

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protective prompts

feel free to adjust as needed!

PROTECTING: “  are you sure you’re okay?  ” “  i’m not letting you go alone.  ” “  let me help.  ” “  say the word and i’ll be there.  ” “  i know you can handle it yourself, but it doesn’t mean you should have to do this on your own.  ” “  i’ll stay the night.  ” “  get some rest.  ” “  ssh, go back to sleep.  ” “  i’m worried about you.  ” “  i’m not going anywhere. not as long as you’re in danger.  ” “  i won’t let anyone hurt you.  ” “  i won’t let that happen.  ” “  look at me. you’re gonna be okay.  ” “  what can i do?  ” “  i’ll be right here with you the whole time.  ” “  who did this to you?  ” “  i can tell you’re upset, talk to me.  ” “  i’m not letting them get away with this.  ” “  i’ll get you out of this. trust me.  ” “  i know you don’t need my help. but i’m offering it anyway.  ” “  you’re shaking like a leaf— what’s wrong?  ” “  what happened?  ” “  i’m gonna fucking kill them.  ” “  i won’t let anyone hurt you again. not ever.  ”   “  if anything happened to you…  ” “  i need you in my life. so please, let me do what i need to to make it safe.  ”   “  i can’t lose you.  ”   PROTECTED: “  have you been waiting up this whole time?  ” “  how long have you been here?  ” “  i’ll be okay. i promise.  ” “  will you stay with me?  ” “  please don’t go.  ” “  i feel safer when you’re here.  ” “  thank you for making me feel safe.  ” “  i trust you.  ” “  why are you helping me?  ” “  is it over now?  ” “  you don’t have to do this, ya’ know.  ” “  i can take care of myself.  ” “  you don’t have to worry so much.  ” “  i don’t want you to get hurt either.  ” “  i can’t bear the thought of you putting yourself in danger for me.  ”   “  you’re bleeding!  ” “  thank you, but i’ll be alright.  ”    “  please don’t get hurt. not because of me.  ” ACTIONS: 1. for one muse to wake up after sustaining an injury and find the other at the side of their bed 2. for one muse to hold the other after a nightmare 3. for one muse to step between the other and someone who intends to do them harm 4. for one muse to push the other out of harm’s way 5. for one muse to get hurt protecting the other 6. for one muse to fall asleep next to the other muse who is keeping watch 7. for one muse to rescue the other 8. for one muse to get caught hiding an injury sustained while protecting them 9. for one muse to react to the other hiding an injury 10. for one muse to take care of the other while they’re sick/injured 11. for one muse to kiss the other’s scar 12. for one muse to treat an injury the other sustained while protecting them 13. for one muse to kill to protect the other 14. for one muse to get killed while protecting the other 15. for one muse to fall asleep in the hospital bed with the other 

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{Juansen Dizon, I Am The Architect of My Own Destruction page 24/ Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 6: 1955-1966/ Alice Hoffman, The Red Garden/ Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 5: 1947-1955/ Haruki Murakami: Norwegian Wood, page 276/ Michael Ondaatje/ Catherynne M. Valente, The Orphan's Tales: In the Night Garden/ D.H. Lawrence, from The Complete Works; The Plumbed Serpent/ Jean-Paul Sartre, from No Exit/ Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; "In The Pines,"}

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I hope I’m not just an annoyance to you but also an object of your pathological psychosexual rage

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@nyt1ba asked: [ 24. ] sender drapes a blanket over receiver, accidentally waking them. "sorry, go back to sleep."

Fever burns beneath her skin as monstrous features weave their way in and out of her human guise — jagged metal scales protruding through porcelain flesh, weathered by rust and turning a sickly sweet shade of green in their decay. Within her mouth, fangs emerge before they’re needed — pushing her sturdy and reliable teeth outward only to replace them with brittle and fractured counterparts. Her armor thins, claws blunt, scales rot … it is a horrific condition that Ilsa suffers in silence, unable to find words with enough depth to describe such agony; the deterioration of metallic compounds is only made worse by the fact that said weakened materials distributed throughout every evolved structure of her body — she’s corroding, melting away into nothing but a writhing mass of raw flesh and red blood. 

But regardless of how she suffers, Ilsa is always shocked to find Adam at her side when the cycle inevitably repeats itself; no matter how much blood she drinks, no matter how many bones she breaks beneath the bend of her fangs … it is never enough to replace the inorganic compounds her body so desperately craves. To go hungry would be a mercy; she would starve herself for as long as need be if it were an option. All attempts to allow herself to wither, however, had resulted in her body forfeiting itself to instinct — devouring even the most contaminated objects. Rotting her insides, chewing away at her endoskeleton. Like a snake swallowing its own tail, Ilsa destroys herself ever so slowly … 

It’s difficult to speak, both painful and pointless as opening her mouth will only invite a fit of coughing that serves to lose herself of any ailing teeth and tainted blood. Instead, fingers take hold of the excess material concealing his wings, careful to avoid tearing the cloth with rusted talons. It is a rather meager gesture, one that is quickly retracted as another wave of pain ripples through her.

Curling in on herself, Ilsa feels a scale punch through both her skin and her clothing, snagging the stray edge of a blanket. Carefully, she pries the deteriorating metal from her skin, inviting a wince as it pulls free to leave raw pink flesh and yet more blood.     “ Talk to me about something, ”     she practically demands, setting the scale down upon the concrete with a fleshy clink; her gaze is somewhere distant, as far away from here as she can possibly get without leaving,    “ anything at all. Whatever you want. I don’t even care if it’s a lecture. Just — please … don’t make me deal with this alone. ”