providae-blog

[providae-blog]

[providae-blog]

BOY IS MAN, IS GOD, IS GUN. the gules garb of the damned — a teratism fissicostated, limned venatic, vastation. undeify, erupt. the vauntlay of the venators —— cruor ‘pon thine metacarpi, & an ullagone aborted, disremembered, ‘pon the tongue. hound, uncrowned. insculped of thine own cippus, sepulchural boy; graveyard dirt is only SO heavy, & in the balm of redivivus, the world’s tephrosis. tartarus, undone —— slip thyself into mortal frame, & scream.  //  independent, semi-exclusive, private & highly selective BUCKY BARNES as delineated by mollie. mcu & earth-616 verses available.

[providae-blog]

( THEY BANGED ———— #SANDWICHSTYLEZ )

[providae-blog]

DAEDALIST.

❛  ——————  i bet you a  nova crystal   you can’t beat me to the mess,  lurch !  ❜

COMET ARC,  A CURVED COSMIC CANDESCENCE,  eager heel toe,  heel toe,  speed.    matutine  competition streaking through eyelashes dusk,  night rolling off shoulders built for  rebellious  rush.    a cackle  crows  from lips adorned with  captation  blush.    pulse wild   &  hair caught in gleeful wind   &  youthful spree.

a  trip  to  the  outer  rim  leaves  adrenaline  burred  to  the  skin,  pink with energy.

❛  ——————————  eat my dust !  ❜

☆ ･.• ◝ ∙°◞ @providae

a matutine meniscus; eoan‘s coruscation at the mouth, plumed luteous, lustring. the aiger of ridency, benthos-bloom --- the ROSCID RIDEL o’ the womb, sparagmos limned oscinine. the hitch of pitch brows, vellication of an alpestrine frame, & then ------  ❛ oh, you have got to be KIDDING me. ❜  hermes’ halitus anthwart the throat, & then the spring.  ❛ BETTER HAVE THAT NOVA CRYSTAL READY, DAMERON! ❜

[providae-blog]

send ‘ ♡ ‘ for an instagram aesthetic post for our muses’ relationship // gale hawthorne & cressida easton, for @vinecrowned.

[providae-blog]

send ‘ ♡ ‘ for an instagram aesthetic post for our muses’ relationship // vick, rory & gale hawthorne, for @dyadiic.

[providae-blog]

send ‘ ♡ ‘ for an instagram aesthetic post for our muses’ relationship // death & famine, for @ensavaged.

[providae-blog]

send ‘ ♡ ‘ for an instagram aesthetic post for our muses’ relationship // posy & gale hawthorne, for @sunshinemade.

[providae-blog]

send ‘ ♡ ‘ for an instagram aesthetic post for our muses’ relationship // thick & stick, for @sovietsymbol.

[providae-blog]

send ‘ ♡ ‘ for an aesthetic post for our muses’ relationship using this [x].

[providae-blog]

THE WAR IS OVER,   OR SO THEY SAY   & he, the sastrugi amidst susurrations ;   A SHADOW OF YESTERDAY.   the empyrean becomes colder   & colder,   & the coquelicot fields abloom in the aphotic hours unfurl with FLESH FORGED FLOWERS.   they wilt,   wither   & wrox.   these DYING LIGHTS from nocuous nights,   bedevil the earth to be archaic in dust dipped mirth ;   you   & i,   the days she must watch die,   becomes older   & older.   springtide’s sudor,   awakened upon her skin akin to mourning dew.   the athesis of her limned amoret,   the kiss of kismet attainted from an ode to WINTER’S WOUNDS,   ( exposed in the eoan.   frost bite to incarnadine tender edges,   the marriage,   the marring of streams of ichor spilling from arrhizal seams.   she,   a mouthful of a saccharine cherry,   the devil’s delight ).   her handwriting is plangent,   plumbless as poesy,   lines the viduage of shattered verglas ;   HEARTBREAK.   this is the azimuth of her adieu.

5TH MARCH,   1919. 

i hope this letters finds it’s way to you.   everything has changed,   just within a few days.   spring is here.   even the poppies call your name,   it’s amusing,   i know,   but they remind me of when we met.   all the troops have pulled back,     what’s left of them.   it feels so empty,   i don’t know this country anymore.   ivan,   & i,   we’re heading to st. petersburg soon.   he said it’ll be safer,   i don’t know if anywhere is safe anymore.   i hope your journey returning home is safe,   my darling   & i pray the western front treats you well,   i can’t imagine the bloodshed there.   i pray but my heart bleeds for this world,   for you.   please,   write back soon.   i miss you. 

truthfully yours, natalia. 

21ST MAY,   1919.

summer is here,   you’ll be happy to know that.   i know how much you hated the cold.   i’m dreading the winter,   i’m sure it’ll feel colder without you to keep me warm.   i still hope these are finding their way to you,   across the sky,   across the seas.   the world must be bigger than i thought.   i hope you’re happy,   my love   & that the land of the free is treating you well.   perhaps,   my face is just a memory to you,   the woman that stitched you up   & saved you from this hell.   maybe one day,   in spring,   i’ll be yours again.   is it strange to miss a voice ?   i fear yours is escaping me with every passing day, every passing night. 

i know,  even ivan doesn’t doubt it ;   i know one day i’ll see you again.   i miss you.

always yours, natalia.

THE WAR IS LONG OVER,   & so is the muliebrity in the meas flourishing in mid-may.   the hymeneal of the hypoborean,   inhumed by the lungs of the seasons.   alight amidst the algor.   she,   pyrrhic,   puccoon    & a burgeon to burn as purgatory’s prey.   gelid gusts unravel her uloids,   she bleeds,   she bleeds.   the heart of the alpenglow.   she rusts,   she rusts.

12TH NOVEMBER,   1919.

the trees have changed colour.   winter is here.   it’s cold again.   you wouldn’t like it,   maybe it’s best that you’re not here.   i can’t bare to see you hurt again.   here,   in the city,   nobody speaks of the war.   there are bigger problems.   i remember.   i’ll always remember.   i will always remember you.  i was right,   it is colder without you.   perhaps baba yaga is teaching me a lesson.   there are many things i wish i could tell you,   but some words are better left unsaid.   i know i’ll tell you these stories when we next meet   ——   whenever that may be.   it’s nice to see the stars again.   they’re no longer clouded by smoke   & the crossfire.   they spell your name but give me no roads to follow.    i miss you,   i  ——

THE WAR IS NOT OVER,   blood stains,   inflames  & CAN’T BE WASHED AWAY.   the ink smudges.   the dole of boreal starved hands,   THE LAMENTS OF THE LANDS   & the sea girt of sorrows strangling a forlorn soul.   their war,   it can never end.   gunfire breeds balefire,   the unsullied scent of their eld in her air.   the paper is wrought to her palm,   buried.   another piece of rubble to the ruins.   it can never end,   she can never forget.   the dripping of dawn from her lips,   the death of poppies   & they weep,   VULNEROSE,   an act for her to pretend. 

[providae-blog]

DAWNBUILDING.

& @providae.

               oh, her baby boy. vulnerable and WOUNDED on the hard wooden table, blood seeping through cloth as he rests and winces with pain. golden heart is BROKEN as she pulls up a seat, out of breath from her hurry over to the victors’ village, taking his larger hand (  so similar to his father’s  ) in her own as thumb brushes over calloused knuckles.  ❛  sweetheart  ——  ❜  murmured softly, pained expression searches his features

               her youngest is at home gravely sick with the measles (  the mother won’t tell gale that just yet  ;  no need to cause him further agony or worry  ), and now her first born is fighting off death after such brutal actions were taken against him. she’s tired, furious at what the world they live in can throw at her PRECIOUS children.

               ❛  gale? can you hear me, honey?  ❜

this, the atrophy --- conception of anthropolith, a battue of cthonic creation. welk, thee --- bosky boy, limbed vastation, thy saprophytal lysis spun anthwart a rampike rachis & INQUINATING, IGNITING, INLAPIDATING. the lethologica of lacination. the berceuse of barathrum. deathless debellation, mapped ephelis ‘pon a sepulchral frame ------ ever thine, such an estiferous spine. his halitus snared adumbral at the teeth, an apricity that IGNIFIES --------- nemoral flesh, razed. aponia’s osculation is one denied, sempiternal, cippuses sanguinary; INTERCOSTAL & IGNIVOMOUS. thy alamort soul, never again whole. --------- the vellication of vapulated frame.  ❛ m--- ❜  aphemia, benthos in the deluge of the larynx. so BRUMOUS now, he, tephrosis molochised ------ ANAPEA stirs oscinine ‘twixt thy teeth.  ❛ mom? ❜  

[providae-blog]

I highly recommend you follow the person I reblogged this from.

[providae-blog]

you are still plucking the wings from betwixt your mutilated vertebrae, diffident palms sliced HEMATIC with their serrated edges, digits blackened, burned. an autopsy on your brain; death by suffocation, self-immolation, swallowing your own bullets until all that abraded tongue may cognise is the lead ‘twixt your teeth, that little death beyond the back of the throat. ‘twas a cold day in may, last you left. ‘twas a cold day in may, last you stayed. stygian stain ‘pon your cheek; flayed man, creature undone, soldier with a mouth full of matches – ATROPHY. there is no exculpation here, nor here, or there, or near – the devil meets your gaze, anathema incarnate, & screams. one  &  the same, an identity traded in TREMBLING PALMS, shared as osculation 'tween two mouths filled crimson – is there any such cruciation so saccharine?

independent, private  &  highly selective gale hawthorne of the ‘the hunger games’ series, both book-based  &  movie-based.   written by mollie.

[providae-blog]

TORTUREDMEMORY.

@providae – 

             he’s been staring at gale for a long time. a long, long time. too long to be anything but UNNERVING, actually, because his fear-tipped gaze carries beneath it such a violent history clogged in his throat like a swollen scream that claws, claws, CLAWS —- spits rage like fire against the back of his gritted teeth. even in ‘ RESCUE, ’ his body remains a PRISON where thoughts whimper under restraints & where his chest burns with things unsaid. this is not recovery.    this is BOILING in a self-created hell.   it’s almost to the point where district thirteen feels no more a sanctuary than the capitol a haven. 

                                     ‘ – i don’t TRUST THEM. ’

he, paladin most morose, the athanasy of vastation, fulgor so rimose. sastrugi-tongued, an hundred deaths betwixt the teeth --- thy lysis limned ORCHIDACEOUS, a NAISSANCE OF THE NOYADE. mortiferous, matutine --- in thine sparagmos, chaos. nemophilist, unbound. the orenda of vulneration ------ the HYPODYNAMIA of apotheosis. ‘twixt these walls is he unsinewed; pared persimmon, malacissation half-aborted. saccharine, sanguine. limn thyself lupine, & consume. --------- o, he, VERNAL BOY leeched by brumal metacarpals; hiemal basiation blooming melanic at the larynx.  ( autumnal varmint, vulnerary creature beaded HAEMATIC anthwart such vastation with ullagone ‘twixt thy teeth. )  the suspire of a liar ------ the tabefaction of tephrosis. digits, sarsenet ‘pon his socius’ antibrachium.  ❛ neither do i. ❜  in the mouth, susurrus, psithurism.  ❛ BUT I TRUST YOU. ❜  

[providae-blog]

UNSNARED. i’m not kidding tho ------ where the fuck is my ‘the song of achilles’ au ??

[providae-blog]

when people say gale hawthorne is responsible for prim’s death