Murder - Tumblr Posts
Lil silli story kinda suicidal and murdery
She screamed, her words fluttered violently out of her head as if there was nothing separating her thoughts from the world. She told everyone about how terrifying her mind can get and how it liked to convince her of things that she knew were wrong but never really cared enough to realize it. There is nothing more horrifying than a woman yelling about murder with fear in her eyes and a smile in her teeth, as the eyes are windows to the soul and the face does what the audience wants. Her yelling continued as she walked them through how he made her so mad and so sad that she just had to kill him! There was no other way to get him out of her life and no other way to get the voices out of her head. Death was the only way. She never expected regret. She never expected how much she could miss the voice of the man that she only connected with hatred. Now the voice was so bent and bruised in her memories it just sounded… wrong. Everything was wrong! She screamed and screamed but nothing could fix the guilt in her eyes and nothing could fix the deep yearning for her gun to be emptied again. It didn’t matter how she felt, death lied in her bones and blood filled her thoughts. She was a killer. The word had slowly stumbled out of her mouth, she didn’t want to accept it. She could accept how she wanted him dead. She could accept how she planned the murder. She could accept how she bought lead bullets so she knew the job would be done. But being a killer. Taking someone's life and just accepting that. Being forced to live in the brain and the body of a murderer for as long as you may live. She couldn’t handle that. There was nothing in this world that would ever make that okay. There was nothing that would ever make her want to live again. She had locked her gun, trying to help her brain stop thing about the same image, the same thing as before. Bullets in his chest, blood covering his once beautiful body, but it wasn’t the man she killed wearing his blood. It was her. With three bullet holes in her chest, blood coating her finest dress with the life of a killer as the only memory anyone will ever have when they think of her. She couldn’t scream anymore. Tears filled her eyes as the barrier between her mind and the people became thicker than the blood of a once loved man. She fell onto the ground trying to speak even as her tears are racing down her face her mind is filled with words and her blood is fueled by death and nothing will keep her from thinking that she is a monster. Nobody disagrees. Even as she is filled with sadness and regret she is still a killer and that is all she will ever be. She has grown to fear her own hands and she has grown to accept that her thoughts will never leave her. Trapped in a cell of her own design, walls covered in the tears of a killer and the blood of a human. Mind filled with the differences betwixt the two beings. How a killer will cry and a human will bleed. And she will be stuck with both roles. Slashing her skin hoping that one day she will be able to feel the pain that he did. Hoping that one day it will be enough to pay for his mothers sorrows. Praying that if she died they would celebrate, saying that it would only take a matter of time. She cried each day and night hoping that someone would see how she wasn’t a monster. Maybe one day someone would see that she felt the pain, just as they did. Maybe she just needed more pain? Maybe then they would see.
Me when when me your when you when your when you me when your mom
XD
You dig. You’ve been digging a long time. A featureless blue sky sprawls, staring down at you. It scorns you white-hot sunlight, painful and scorching. Judgmental as long vanished gods.
You’re dirty. Dust on clothes that in another world, another time, were expensive, implication of status. Now they’re just a shell. A hollow you live inside of.
Digging. Digging. Digging. A shadow crosses the sky on huge wings, plunges you into darkness for just a heartbeat. There’s blood under your fingernails. You swore you scrubbed and scrubbed, you were careless this time, so careless—
It’s done. Another doll in the dirt.
Dusk comes and chases the Sun over the horizon to usher in perpetual, desert midnight. Cold, unblinking stars manifest in silence. You numbly climb into your car beneath them. Driving away from this, from the thing you broke.
She’s there by the side of the road. Bloodied. Gazing at you.
Every mile is accompanied by that face.
No other cars. No gas station light, no haven town.
Just a cracked, porcelain face and bottomless, black eyes.
Erik be like
Raoul: ugh my stomach hurts • Erik: That's unfortunate. Wanna do an autopsy?
Pt 2 of grimace shake comic (pt 1 here)
lil nod to LND here lol
LATER THAT NIGHT???!
Poison the Sauce. Put the Antidote in the Pineapple.
[ @ask-abject-deactivated20170928 woops i delete sorry ]
Sunlit Honey: No? Murder is frowned upon in most societies... ours included.
...i’m not scared of god i’m scared he was gone all along...
...who knows how much longer i’ll lay on the floor touch me til i vomit...
...from the start, they knew you were wrong you were wrong †††
INBRED -@mothercain
my toxic trait is I genuinely believe a week of commiting various crimes would fix me.
Question for the Secret History readers: do y'all think the seven deadly sins is a pertinent angle to read the greek class (Julian included) through? Cause I definitely see it fitting for Richard as envy (a deadly sin is supposed to be one at the origin of other sins and that leads to death if my memory serves me right, and his envy of rich people led him to wanting to transform into a rich person leading to him almost dying that one winter), Francis as paress (he would literally rather die than be disowned and forced to work to sustain himself). It could work for Charles (wrath), Camilla (luxury) and Bunny (avarice), and a sweet argument could be made for Julian as gluttony (in the sense of eating for pleasure rather than sustenance) but of course Henry's a problem. I mean, he doesn't NOT fit pride, but it's not evident either you know? Plus guy's literally Death so it feels weird to coinjoin the two, what do you guys think?
WARNING: murder and voilence
I really want to read a Haikyuu!! Murder mystery. It’s go something like this:
The targets: the students who attended Shiratorizawa’s first year training camp
The first victims, Kindaichi and Kunimi both killed in the gym at night by an axe to the head
Next is Hyakuzawa, also by an axe, the police have established the link by now
Next is Goshiki and Kogane, both hit by a car on the way to a date,
Shibata was shot in the throat on the same night
The police have taken Tsuki and Hinata into custody for protection, they are release with a guard each
Tsukishima and Hinata, along with the guards, are shot in the head and killed
I would read this but way to lazy to write it
ahstories
wasn't happy w ahstories. what the fuck was that. it made me homophobic. anyway so I decided to write Scarlett & ruby meeting. might make a part two, might lick a clit. well have to see how much I like the third ep
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I grab the gin from under the sink--because Troy thinks he’s able to keep his alcoholism a secret by hiding bottles in the most generic places--and run upstairs to my room, on fire. Electric. I drink as I run and it burns my already sore throat, and within the frenzy inside my head I catch myself thinking about how good a cigarette would feel right now. Burned. Searing Maya’s skin, adding a beauty mark like Marilyn Monroe right above her pouty lips--she wanted to be a model, right?
The knife in my room isn’t clean. It’s tainted with the meat I found in the garden--little animals I carved to see the bones. To make things with. They squirm and I feel ethereal as my knife plunges into their tiny chest. I’m the one who makes the fucking choices and I’m the one who decides who feels pain and I’m the one who picks who lives and who dies and I’ll chose for Maya and she’ll squirm like the chipmunks and bunnies and all the cute little creatures that died because of me. Because I chose it. Because I am so fucking powerful that I am able to weild the decision most people are too intimidated to stare in the face. It all comes down to me and my mood. Maya’s life now falls into my scales--her heart and a feather--and I’m waiting for the balance to settle into her fate, and I choose her destiny and for a moment, for just a moment the universe is in the palm of my hands.
A little chrome switchblade I ordered from Amazon when I was fourteen. Well used and well loved, I call her Peggy Sue. Holding the knife, pushing the blade out with my thumb, I take another swig before setting the bottle at my feet. She looks rusty but I know it’s just the dry blood. I think of being the master of the universe as I bring the blade down on my arm.
“Heh, wait.”
Interruptions. Interruptions. Someone is interrupting the fucking greatest moment of my life and has the audacity to chuckle while she did. Before it could register that I should be the only female in the house, I clutched the knife harder--my knuckles white--and started trembling.
“What?” I don’t look away from my arm, I see it as Maya’s. “Get the fuck out.”
“Like I would ever! After that little monologue of yours, I’m way too invested to suddenly leave. Or, to see you leave, I guess fits a little better.”
Monologue?
My head shoots up. In the threshold of my bedroom is a girl I’ve never met before, with raccoon eyes and knotted brown hair. She’s dressed in a biker jacket, zipped closed, and leather pants. My eye twitches at the leather, like she was wearing them for the sole purpose of mocking me, like she knew.
I point the knife over her shoulder. “Get the fuck out.”
“No.”
I stalk towards her. “Get the fuck out.”
She’s grinning. As I get closer, I notice a horrible stench emitting from her jacket. It takes me by surprise and I stagger back, holding my nose and gagging. I never smelled anything like it, it was like sulfur came from her clothes in waves, burning anything it touched. I cough, only to find a similar taste lingering against my tongue, and this time I think I actually will puke.
She steps towards me. “No.”
“Who the hell are you?!” The smell was a cruel torture in of itself, but her smile, and the way she looked at Peggy Sue, told me she still had other plans in mind.
“What were you gonna do with that?” She asks.
“With what?” I rub my watery eyes. “Christ they’re burning! Did you fucking roll in shit?”
“The knife. What were you going to do with the knife?”
“The knife.” What? I look at it in sudden puzzlement. What was I going to do with it? Startled out of my pleasure, none of what I was thinking made any sense. I look at my arm, it wasn’t even the same shade as Maya’s-
The girl shoves my chest, grabs the knife and laughs. She points the blade at my neck. “That was too easy!” She teases me with puckered lips. “My sweet little dreamer, didn’t Momma ever tell you to get your heads outta the clouds?” I back against the wall. “All the action happens down below.”
She pounces and I scream for my dads.
Murder Most Fowl: Round #1
I recently thought of this series. I’m sure it’s been done before (I didn’t check; plausible deniability), but, here’s my approach to roasters murdering people different ways. Murder is fowl, and so are they ;]
Star clusters of pasque flowers, the series
Archive #17 | copyright to saturnfairycat
Author's Note: and here we are - the whole series in one post. Let me know if you like this! Enjoy :)))
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Star clusters of pasque flowers
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Fairy Salt
Meadows, ponds, butterflies and all
The jealousy, envy towards a thrall.
To have dreams with one can break walls.
Saturn has one too many rings to fall
Out of line, out of sight.
Hail storms help those to recall
The attic, the dust, that was used to stall.
Oh, hail one that dares to crawl
Out of sight, out of mind.
Sunflowers, tulips, roses and all,
The fairy that withdraws the pall.
A spiteful befall.
Ocean waves, known to leman,
The echoing within a shell hidden under damp sand.
Floating in space, drifting on wood.
Isolation, fear,
Scent of salt and rotten pier.
A story told by sailors and elves alike,
A history, a history to dislike.
An entombment used to engulf the rage,
A minor death, left to drown and age.
One can remember some
While one can remember all.
But she– the one who dares to question,
Argue against her majesty, his bride,
Remembers all.
As it was she,
Who died.
The attic, the castle,
The meadow and the sea–
Something that one tends to forget because no one is free.
Do you see her soul?
Do you see the fairy fly?
Or have you forgotten
That night–
When the flowers started to die.
Wither, winter, spring and grow,
The elves dancing– prancing for gold.
But one elf does not twirl or beg,
They are meant for the flower bed.
Lying and crying,
Mourning and laughing.
The smell of salt and sound of hail,
Oh, please don’t forget the veil.
Flowers,
The honey, the comb.
Iris, Peony, and Manuka are thrown
Not at her tomb stone, no.
But at the majesty’s, the lord,
And no one below.
--------------------------------------------
In truth
The Queen’s light-hearted winter.
Cold, bitter,
We always knew he was a quitter.
The heavens, the uranian,
Look at the new Heather!
Romanticists broach vastly
To a new moon.
The witless prince thought he could swoon?
Ha.
Praise the rise of the skies,
Praise the rise of the star clusters.
My heart, oh my,
To see someone’s whole life in a night’s sky.
The yearn, the mourn, the emptiness,
For something that wasn’t even there.
A new moon, or a new dark age?
The Queen’s dark spring,
Pasque flowers and lilies of valleys.
Worshipping a wedding ring,
Bewailing a regrettable demise.
From dawn to nightfall,
From love to loathe.
An oath meant to be broken.
Flatter thy, satisfy he
Who dares question the crown.
Hate, hate.
Ball gowns and wedding cake.
How can one forget
The Heather, heaven, heathen?
I’m not one to shiver and click
When one thought they were slick.
Who thought a royal like me could see a fallen crown?
I can be sincere,
I don’t need the roses to be red.
Just listen to me
And there won’t be bloodshed.
Who dares to question the crown?
Who dares to question me?
Pasque flowers and lilies does not mean you’re free.
She had to die,
The skies were aligned.
The new moon is my oath
And it will not break.
Which they seem to not understand…
I’m always awake.
Oh, welcome the new dark age.
Oh, welcome the new cage.
Pixies and fairies does not belong to me
But what’s the point of trying to flee?
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A human in a mushroom house
A funeral for someone who dares to question power,
a shadow obligated to cower.
A love towards another could be a one way stream,
while the amour propre of the other could be dead scream–
a sleeping lake.
When will my Inamorato wake?
When will fairies start singing for thy
Instead for the Queen?
Oh, her majesty, the Queen,
What a joke, what a pity!
Nothing seems to make them witty,
Their own Queen died, not from poison.
Pixie dust doesn’t fix everything, does it?
His love, his bride.
A fairy that reminded him of the clouds
Who kissed the sun in a hush lullaby.
As the moon, red as blood can be,
Replaced it at night.
The Queen was replaced, yes!
By a human, no less.
A minor death, left to rot…
As the human queen, was never caught.
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Never make new friends because you might find out later they fucked their dog