#glaswen

[stankycowboy]

"Stop licking the damn thing!"

The squeaking demand is just heard over the sound of the hungry creature dragging the finger bones of a dead man over his teeth; the grating scrap of each digit de-fleshed by his fangs loud in his own ears. Severen is distracted from the activity by the man’s shout. A confusing request, as he would have expected the complaint to be less specific. ‘Stop killing everyone!’, ‘Let me go!’, or the favorite of most: ‘Why are you doing this?’ He looks up to lock eyes with the frazzled, cowering man complaining at the far side of the room. He’d nearly forgotten there was someone still living. This one would be a more succulent treat than those that littered the floor between them. The dead were a fine source of sustenance, but it was hard to beat the freshly pumping blood of the living—especially one so fearful.  “But I was jus’ gettin’a the good part”, he falsely whines, following it up with a pout of his bottom lip and a howling laugh that brings to mind starved coyotes on the open plain. Thusly locked onto his next target, Severen rises from his haunches and begins to close the distance, each step punctuated by the hollow “CLINK” of his spurs. “You mi’hght be right though…” the flesh eater sighs, licking at his own hands now, enjoying the textured chew of the coagulated gore coating them, “I should stop”.

Standing before the huddled man, Severen slowly bows over to put his face just before the other’s, breath cold and rotten. “So’s I c’n start with you”.

[gildedweapon]

fr @dethvoid

" i will always be yours. "

Mignon form sways, eager heart; jovial delight alight in those emeralds 'twould shame fel fire or mayhaps even the jewels they 'twere likened to. Delicate fingertips reach up to ghost ov'r such angular features of a young Hunter she knew (knows, ever maturing; ever aging despite the demon in him), the yearning ache like a hungering gorge, hollowing and howling, to feel the gelid darkness that is him within. To grasp. To let the shadows and shades swim on her skin, to envelop, to swallow, to consume.

He would always be hers?

'Twas not the other words around, as they say? She would always be his. No matter whose name was engraved on her true self. On the back of her skin 'twixt shoulder blades.

Still, despite her ghosting and dusting; memorizing every line as she's done heretofore. Her favorite map. She caresses his cheek and a smile blooms therein on her lips, crisp sweetness as if a bite of a fresh apple were taken, ❝ T-Truly? If I could ever be so selfish, I would v-very much like that. ❞

But, she also knew his freeing heart.

❝ I do not mind sharing you w-with you. I hope you know, wherever you go. I will always be here. I will always be yours. ❞ She whispers this like a hymn, a promise, a vow blessed by the crescent of Dawn and Dusk.

❝ M-Meus. ❞ She repeats his antediluvian language, the surging emotions flooding and overwhelming. To always be someone's. O what delight. A kiss then, swift and true like a silver bullet. One would mistake gun smoke 'twixt their lips of velvet and satin. One would mistake a bullseye 'twixt pearl and emeralds and obsidian and garnets.

❝ Always, Dark. Always. ❞

[ineed-to-sleep]

Commission for @glaswen of their oc Trent!! 💕✌🏻

[amortean]

What type of soul would you have?

Suffocated Soul. You have acquired the Suffocated Soul. You're a dreamer, and you've got a big appetite to consume the world and all it can give to you. And yet you were always told to not play with your food. And every time someone turns their back on you, rejects you, your dream, a sword is added to your back. Each cold blade digging into the soft parts of your spine. There's eight in your back, and you've got the ninth. What will you do? Reject fate and hold onto the blade and point it at others? Lash out and create distance? Or will you succumb to the inner turmoil and stab the ninth blade in yourself? Show others the potential you have and all the wounds that come along with it. You have great potential that is being hidden, covered, and choked out. Learn to let your fuse burn longer before detonating the bomb of your temper.

Tagged by: i uh stole it off my personal dashboard

Tagging: @renatvvs (🤔 whichever boy strikes your fancy for this), @glaswen, @vxmpirehunterd, @lotuskissed, @stellevatum, @relentlessgrief.

[darkfascination]

❝ Hey,  ❞  There's the flutter of his hand in a short wave to attract the attention of the priest; the look on his face biting back a smirk.

❝  A friend (?) just asked me an interesting question.  She's looking to, uh ... ❞  Trent pauses, trying to find a word other than fuck, screw, get railed ...   

❝  She wants to have sex in a church. Don't know where, don't know with who. The only thing that's stopping her is she thinks it might go to hell over it.  What does the Lord say,  would it count as a sin?  ❞

It is less the talk of mortal intercourse that riles him, but the thought that Lux should have any presence in his most frequented place of “work” than he. Setting his jaw teeth grindingly taught, he turns in forbidding swiftness toward the speaker. Gaining a foot in height in sheer lack of restraint to hold his mortal form, Ira towers, arms spreading wide as if to call brimstone down through the stained glass portraiture. “THOU WOULD DEFILE THE HOUSE OF THE LORD WITH SUCH IRREVERENT ACTS?! VILE, PERNICIOUS FORNICATORS! FAITHLESS FETISHISTS SHALL BE CAST TO THE DEPTHS TO BURN AND WRITHE IN TORMENT!” He looms now, spittle beading his lips as it hangs with the ever present dust in the oddly reddish light that seems to rise from his skin; a palpable heat accompanying. Leaning forward so their faces were uncomfortable inches from one another he now whispers, a sound far more menacing than the deafening boom of his earlier outburst. “You tell her if she fucks in church I’ll make goddamned sure it ends in a “crime of passion””. After that he dissipates, more than likely to trade words with his frequent co-conspirator.

[aevyternal]

                         ❝    Are  you  sure  you  wouldn’t  like  something  to  eat ?   Or  drink ,    perhaps ?   I  could  make  tea  if  you’d  prefer  something  to  soothe  the  nerves .    ❞        She  dries  her  hands  on  the  tea  towel  before  setting  it  aside  on  the  counter .   A  single  brow  raises  in  silent  inquiry  as  she  looks  aside  towards  Trent ,   patiently  awaiting  a  response .   He’s  always  struck  her  as  an  odd  one ,   but  also  genuine  in  his  own  way .   The  thought  elicits  a  soft  CHUCKLE  from  the  porcelain  woman ,   leaning  over  to  rest  an  arm  over  the  counter  &  prop  the  other  in  order  to  cradle  her  chin  in  her  palm ,   silvery  gaze  GLITTERING  at  the  other .         ❝    You  act  as  if  it’s  the  first  time  you’ve  been  in  a  woman’s  home .    ❞

                     @glaswen​

[shoegazekid]

#246 inc: @mooninjunetyo @Venera4band @blankenbergerus @sfbalms & #glaswen #shoegaze

[noxpraelia]

“ say my name. ” ( hM )

first time nsfw sentence  starters !

pls have mercy. ..

Salacious dreams (Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, thinking; they always were) bear licentious fruit. A bite of sweet flesh. A taste of salt and heat. Rapacious hands roaming, seeking, yearning.

Russet pools with ebony, noses touching and lips never parting. He scratches pallid skin with stubble, she doesn’t fucking care. His hands go to her back, pressing her closer (coalesced; a mess, evanesce into one another) and for a moment she freezes, the scars screaming at her in algid howls.

But he kisses her deeply and she melts in his lips; his embrace, in him. A soft moan of pleasure is swallowed by him as he is swallowed by her. Rolling of hips as she rises to meet him and his rhythm.

Faster. Harder. D E E P E R.

Winterborne eyes aglow, dazzling like illuminated aquamarines that shame the stars bleeding in midnight silky skies; the radiance dances across his heated skin, a common unnatural natural phenomenon. She moans more, each louder than the last, neighbors be damned if they fucking heard their sinner sonnet. She’s lost in the symphony, the crashing of waves, the crescendo that wasn’t too far off-A peek at his face, blue seeking blue, a desire so profound as slickness and rigid is apparent and another round is bound to start.

She moans into a small whimper, so very small and faint but in this house of cards it was all he needed. Sapphire to obsidian, borrowed power trembling in those hands that held her hips, digits digging into bone, “Say my name.”

Breathy. Husky. Him all the same no matter the fucking look.

Vituperate words swirl in her parched mouth and die in her sore throat, a thorny retort lost amidst the bliss. Beneath him she lays, movements stilled and pants shared between both. Breasts tremble as her abdominal muscles strain-And she smirks. 

“Make me.”

Cold spectrum flickers, she can hear him smirk in return and her own is wiped off as he pulls out without warning. Shudders of pleasure and disappointment course through her, the latter in a yelp. No coherent thought formed (the start of ‘that’s all?’ long gone), her legs thrown over his shoulders in one sudden motion as hot breath fans between.

Oh.

Oh~.

[wasulfhrafnx]

“ do you think i’m stupid? ”

3 , 4 , 5 SENTENCE STARTERS // ACCEPTING

     ❝ no. i think you’re often underestimated and far more observant than you let on, but stupid ? not in the slightest. i’ve met plenty of stupid, believe me, a lot of boys hell bent of making a name for themselves without a decent head on their shoulders. i’m sure you can imagine how that turned out. you’re nothing like them, kid. ❞ she continues her search for the artifact they’d come for, careful not to touch anything that didn’t match it’s description. with relic’s of this age, temperamental as their magic tended to be, one could never be too careful.

         ❝ anyone who knows better than to read latin in a strange book aloud has got to have something going on upstairs, right ? ❞  winking she playfully nudges his arm with her elbow to ease the tension,  ❝why, has someone been talking shit ? ❞  @glaswen

[awfulheart]

❝ You know, it’s funny. When you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags. ❞

BoJack Horseman Starters

“Well, that’s true.”

“And a much more sophisticated idiom than I was expecting from you.”

[stankycowboy]

♦ :)

“Playtime”.

When Severen thinks of Trent, the morose meat sack, he doesn’t just see prey to be hunted, but a toy to be destroyed—as slowly as he can manage. It just wouldn’t be as much fun to rip out the man’s innards in one fell swoop, not when the sadistic brute could unspool them coil by coil.

There is no hurry here. Were he able to bite and not spread his disease, Severen would hide the unfortunate being half chewed just to dig up later. There is joy in causing this one agony, pleasure in watching him suffer. Maybe it’s because it seems fear is the only thing that cuts through the morbidity. Severen, monster that he is, has always loved the scent of panic, the taste of terror, but why he has so fixated on gamboling with this little seal he does not know; only that he wants to savor every tempting morsel before gnawing his way through to the core.

Not quite yet. (If he can help it). Just one more game. (A final trial). Trent’s luck vs. Severen’s will. (Both in low supply).

Some day will be the last day. If it is today, so be it.

[oplitis-a]

For the voice meme: Is there any type of AU/genre you would like to write Roxy in?

send in questions about Roxy so you can hear me talk lol

:’)

http://vocaroo.com/i/s0C0zLy7t6Hr

[amortean]

― NAME: lue.

― PRONOUNS: she/they idc this body is a flesh prison.

― MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)? I've been writing this character for, like, 12 years... I think the Sheila brainworms have cannibalized all the other worms...

― RP PET PEEVES? I don't think I can get into this without revealing how much brain damage I've sustained my experiences here over the years. If you know, you know.

― EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS? My earliest memories are from when I was around 12-14 on some obscure rp forum that is still barely clinging to life last I looked. I did a lot of rping on AIM & MSN Messenger... and then fell out of the hobby for a few years when a friend (and main rp partner) passed away. Sheila & Eve (& Gatsby) were conceptualized on Gaia in 2011, and the group I wrote with (👋 hi steph LMAOOOO) moved to tumblr a short while later, annnnd... I've kinda been here ever since.

Whoever that anon was from years ago who was like "ummm don't you think you're too old to be rping :\" well I'm even older now.

― FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT? Hitting my partners all day every day with fluff + angst wombo combo until they beg for mercy. Smut is not something that's ever happened with this character for... a variety of reasons... and I would only ever feel comfortable writing such things with a long-term ship partner.

― PLOTS OR MEMES? My strength lies in improvisation; some of my favorite, most memorable threads had absolutely zero plotting. A little plotting is fine, but I love the element of surprise, so I don't like mapping everything out in excruciating detail. I also don't do memes very often just because I lack the energy :( And I've always felt bad for sending in memes to friends without ever really giving them an opportunity to send me memes in turn.

― LONG OR SHORT REPLIES? Comfy zone is pretty much anything from one-liners to a couple paragraphs. Otherwise I just—I dunno—burn through my already scant reserves of creative energy way too quickly.

― TIME TO WRITE? Ungodly hours in the morning when most everyone else is asleep so there are minimal distractions. Unfortunately, this means my sleep schedule is usually trash. If you see me posting replies at 5am no you don't.

― ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)? When Sheila was new, the only things we had in common were our musical instruments of choice (we're both pianists) and—rather unintentionally—our chronic back pain. Due to the way I developed her character over the years (I don't like retcons, so there are a lot of ghosts in Sheila's past, for better or worse), we've become more alike in the Department of Crippling Trust Issues, and I do sometimes wish I had developed her differently because I worry that people may mistake her for a self-insert or think I'm projecting way too much onto her. Oops.

also pomegranates, we both love pomegranates (all my OCs love pomegranates). I think our sense of humor is also similar (? I need a third party to confirm or deny this) although my clown shoes are bigger by far.

Tagged by: @renatvvs 💙💙

Tagging: @lotuskissed, @vxmpirehunterd, @glaswen, @xkuja, @stellevatum, @therealricksanchezpleasestandup

[darkfascination]

@glaswen

For as much as humanity wanted to claim that their sanctified shelters of religiosity were places of acceptance and love, he never found any to turn him away when preaching the ol’ “fire and brimstone”. Every cry out to cast away the unfaithful, the unholy, every claim made that hell awaited any who faltered even in the slightest, was met with raucous cheering and “praise be”. They lapped up the tainted wine he waved his hands over, devoured each unleavened cracker as hungrily as they would true flesh were redemption promised by consumption.

The hard part was hiding his smile.

Now, hanging up his vestments in solitude he could laugh, he could savor their two-faced, sanctimonious horseshit. Believing themselves the worthy because they obeyed orders all lined up in their pews. Falling to their knees before him and crying out for a dead man who would sooner turn his back than free their putrid souls. Ira felt lifted off his feet he was so filled of their hatred, their intolerance for their fellow man.

Delicious.

Grabbing the opened bottle of sacramental wine he readied to down it to the last drop— to really relish the sacrilege they called upon themselves— when he heard the creak of the inner vestibule door. He thought it rare a straggler would make it back before they could stuff their faces with brunch, but he’d not turn down an opportunity for one last taste. Replacing the bottle he checked his appearance in the mirror, straightening his collar and smoothing down the front of the stately black shirt tucked into black dress slacks. With a grin he stepped out to the altar, hiding wolfish expression as the lost lamb came into view.

[shoegazekid]

#glaswen #shoegaze

[noxpraelia]

incorrect quotes of your muse and mine @glaswen