pulse flow

No but Yuuri’s hand snaking up and around the nape of Victor’s neck during that hug, that’s legitimate affection, touching someone’s neck like that, their fucking pulse where life flows through. That’s intimate and personal and for Yuuri to do that in the public eye (in Japan!) shows how confident he’s grown in himself and his relationship with Victor, whether romantic or not. Yay for healthy relationship/character development. I fucking love this anime.

Next Time You’ll Know Better

by reddit user IPostAtMidnight

Have you ever walked into a room and found a vampire?

No, not the sexy kind, but a foul creature with bony limbs and ashen skin? The kind that snarls as you enter, like a beast about to pounce? The kind that roots you to the spot with its sunken, hypnotic eyes, rendering you unable to flee as you watch the hideous thing uncoil from the shadows? Has your heart started racing though your legs refuse to? Have you felt time slow as the creature crosses the room in the darkness of a blink?

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Next Time You'll Know Better.

Have you ever walked into a room and found a vampire?

No, not the sexy kind, but a foul creature with bony limbs and ashen skin? The kind that snarls as you enter, like a beast about to pounce? The kind that roots you to the spot with its sunken, hypnotic eyes, rendering you unable to flee as you watch the hideous thing uncoil from the shadows? Has your heart started racing though your legs refuse to? Have you felt time slow as the creature crosses the room in the darkness of a blink?

Have you shuddered with fear when it places one clawed hand atop your head and another under your chin so it can tilt you, exposing your neck? Have you squirmed as its rough, dry tongue slides down your cheek, over your jaw, to your throat, in a slithering search that’s seeking your artery? Have you felt its hot breath release in a hiss against your skin when it probes your pulse—the flow that leads to your brain? Has its tongue rested there, throbbing slightly as if savoring the moment? Have you then experienced a sinking, sucking blackness as you discover that not all vampires feed on blood—some feed on memories?

Well, have you?

Maybe not. But let me rephrase the question:

Have you ever walked into a room and suddenly forgotten why you came in?

Underneath all the texts, all the sacred psalms and canticles, these watery varieties of sounds and silences, terrifying, mysterious, whirling and sometimes gestating and gentle must somehow be felt in the pulse, ebb, and flow of the music that sings in me. My new song must float like a feather on the breath of God.
—  Hildegard of Bingen, from ‘The Letters of Hildegard of Bingen’
Underneath all the texts, all the sacred psalms and canticles, these watery varieties of sounds and silences, terrifying, mysterious, whirling and sometimes gestating and gentle must somehow be felt in the pulse, ebb, and flow of the music that sings in me. My new song must float like a feather on the breath of God.
—  Hildegard of Bingen

why are all slytherin aesthetics so dark or damp or mystic or vague or -

like what’s the point of this? what are you trying to reinforce that the books didn’t already sign off on in grungy, snobbish, barely coated distaste?? 

where’s my slytherin that feels like finding that perfect spot in a sunpatch. where’s my slytherin that feels like the rush of a correct answer, the pulse of a flowing conversation, the thrill of a debate. where’s my slytherin that’s specific like the bite of a too-hot cup on your index finger or a summer night chilled curtain. where’s my slytherin about the mist of morning and new beginnings and new adventures among the tickly, easy grass. where’s my slytherin about home and family and holding tight,tight,tight to what you have. where is my slytherin that goes beyond the dank, ugly hole that the hp books shoved it into.

at first she struggled… just like her sister had… but he knew that Mistress had the magic mirror sent there to help with that… it’s pink magic swirled and pulsed… flowing to her… it had already started to happen… the mirror seemed to draw her mind away… as she gazed deeper.. she could no longer look away… her arousal started to increase… her struggles were no longer to get away from the mirror… she now struggled to touch herself… as she squirmed there looking deeper into the vacant eyes of the girl she needed to be for Mistress LOVE… the mirror took more of her intelligence… she moaned as another wave of pleasure poured into her mind… and than out of nowhere she made the most adorable giggle… she giggled again hearing it… had that been her? that was when she felt it… the needs flowing into her mind… brainwashing was good for her… she would clean the house in the latex maid uniform Mistress LOVE provided… she would obey… the mirror was so pretty as the first orgasm seemed to get closer… she giggled again and moaned as it was right on the edge… if only she could get her hands free… to touch her delicious wet cunny… than it happened… she felt it like a powerful desire… she would call her other sister… and tie her up just like she was… it would be great to have her as a third maid for Mistress LOVE… she giggled again and breathed in the scent of sex in the air… good girls please their Mistress

Courage Influence

Jaw chattering
Ice in a scotch
Popper laughtering
eye on my watch

Three’s the limit
buzzing like wings
time to go innit
scotch that sings

Heart beat fluttering
piano keys scale
Sinatra has me wondering
from where feelings hail

Gut tells the truth
heart pulls left
what’s the soothsayer
telling to the bereft

soul soars smooth
bourbon on the rocks
worthy of the lourve
abstract thigh socks

ink pulses steady
blood flow competitor
finger guns ready
Alcoholic editor

Doorbell ringing
ditch and run mentality
caroler singing
deep talk reality

three in the morning
never lose sight
talk forever warning
your soul is my light.

Next Time You’ll Know Better

credit to- IPostAtMidnight

Have you ever walked into a room and found a vampire?


No, not the sexy kind, but a foul creature with bony limbs and ashen skin? The kind that snarls as you enter, like a beast about to pounce? The kind that roots you to the spot with its sunken, hypnotic eyes, rendering you unable to flee as you watch the hideous thing uncoil from the shadows? Has your heart started racing though your legs refuse to? Have you felt time slow as the creature crosses the room in the darkness of a blink?


Have you shuddered with fear when it places one clawed hand atop your head and another under your chin so it can tilt you, exposing your neck? Have you squirmed as its rough, dry tongue slides down your cheek, over your jaw, to your throat, in a slithering search that’s seeking your artery? Have you felt its hot breath release in a hiss against your skin when it probes your pulse—the flow that leads to your brain? Has its tongue rested there, throbbing slightly as if savoring the moment? Have you then experienced a sinking, sucking blackness as you discover that not all vampires feed on blood—some feed on memories?


Well, have you?


Maybe not. But let me rephrase the question:


Have you ever walked into a room and suddenly forgotten why you came in?

@iirrumare

   the club is flooded with pulsing light, flowing with mortals from this realm and
   the next, with a fallen angel at it’s middle, nursing his headache with a cool
   shot and a warm smoke. he felt much lonelier here than out there. much
   more intimate, in a way. his lips were chapped, his clothes smelled like pine needles and were
   ripped on his shoulders. a few buttons popped near his collar that he didn’t bother to fix. his
   appearance didn’t matter much now. not anymore. 

   uzzah felt time stretch as he reminisced about his previous life, and suddenly that time fell away
   to the present when he felt a dark, raw power near him. it was… familiar, yet changed, as if he had
   revisited a home after its abandonment twenty years prior. home. that was strange. why would he
   associate that word with this being ?

You will not take her hand.

You worry that your blood soaked hands
  will stain her warm brown skin
  you worry that your calluses
  rough with life and violence and pain
  will scratch her perfect, soft hands

You will not take her hand.

You will never feel the pointed claws
that lie atop slender fingers
or feel the living pulse of hunger
that flows just beneath the polished surface

You will not take her hand.

Not even as she reaches out
not even as she begs to feel your jagged heart
not even as she begs to know what it is like
  to live in your skin

You will not take her hand.
She is too pure.

You will not take her hand.
Did you not know
she yearns to be torn asunder?

You will not take her hand.
You will not feed her hunger.

She sates herself on another.

—  But she is always hungry for you.
my magic pulses like blood, forever flowing from me, my body is an inkwell, pouring life onto a page, my hands stain all that I touch
—  Starstarrag