BLOOD TIES  a playlist for the aristocratic siblings, with a common craving for bloodshed and each other’s kisses. 

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“Her mouth was a gash of red, like the torn-open stomach of a sacrifice, bloody and oracular. Behind it, her teeth shone sharp and white as bone.”
- Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
“She has no mouth with which to kiss, no hands with which to caress, only the fangs and talons of a beast of prey.”
- Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories 

psy·cho·path /ˈsīkəˌpaTH/

  • (noun) a person suffering from chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behavior.
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“I bear the wounds of all the battles I avoided.”
- Fernando Pessoa

The Moirai (greek), or Parcae (roman), were the incarnations of destiny, known as the three fates. They controlled the metaphorical thread of life of every being from birth to death. They were independent, at the helm of necessity, crafted the life of others, and watched that the fate assigned to every being by eternal laws take its course without obstruction. The gods and men had to submit to them, and their impartial choices. Clotho was the spinner, Lachesis the measurer, and Atropos, the one who no man could escape, holds the burden of cutting the thread of life once it shall come to an end.

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“Why is it always the woman who has to see past the beast in the man? Why does she always have to clean his wounds, even after he has damaged her beyond repair? Why is it always the man who is worthy of forgiveness for being a monster?
I want to see the beast in the beauty.
The half smile, half snarl. The unapologetic anger. I would like to see the man forgive the monster. To see her, blood and all, and love her anyway.”
- beauty and the beast | Caitlyn S.


Everyone thinks that after the hunter killed the wolf, Little Red’s life went back to normal. Except it didn’t. A lot got lost in translation, including the fact that there was no hunter at all. Not only did the wolf tear Red’s grandmother to pieces, but he also fed the woman’s flesh back to the girl before raping her under a full moon, until her screams echoed across the village which she once thought was safe. The child of a monster was in her belly now, for that was all the wolf wanted after all. An heir. The beast kept Red locked in a cave as he run the village, destroying everything that could do his son any harm. The place was famous for their various trades, but there was only one thing that they did not sell, and that the wolf could not get his claws on, and make it harmless to the heir: silver. However, the detail escaped his mind. On the next full moon she gave birth to a creature  that was seemingly human, but once a month would turn into an unstoppable animal whose only purpose was the same as his father’s: to create more heirs. Death embraced her soon after the child’s first breath, but until this day, the full moon slaves still chant “To Ylva Red, The First Mother of Werewolves!”

“She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening. She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking.”
- Angela Carter, “The Lady of the House of Love” from The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories 

POWER SERIES — wing manifestation [wɪŋ mænɪfəˈsteɪʃ(ə)n] 

the ability to manifest wings at one’s will. perhaps one of the most beautiful mutations in its prime state, wing manifestation is a subpower of angelic physiology and a variation of appendage generation. despite their seraphic appearance, those blessed with this power often see their wings as a curse, due to the excruciating pain that comes with the molting and regrowth processes. if one receives the chance to look upon the bare back of a mutant with this almost ethereal gift, their eyes will often be greeted with a plethora of scars, as their skin must break each time their wings sprout. these near angelic individuals are forced to endure immense suffering each time they use their mutation, and yet they learn to cope with the pain, as the gift of flight is often worth the hellish price they must pay.
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“I think I’ll dismember the world and then I’ll dance in the wreckage.”
- Preludes and Nocturnes, Neil Gaiman 

THE ANTI-HERO(INE) ♔ happy birthday, alina

forget idealism or nobility. morals or anything of the like. these people were never meant to care for the causes they now fight for, and yet, they do so anyway. behind walls they spent centuries building, they stand tall, and lucky are the soldiers that manage to slip through the cracks or climb that high. rude. reckless. no social grace whatsoever, but underneath their tough-as-nails exterior and piercing glare, there is the heart that none of you ever suspected was there. not the bad girl turned good or the good turned bad; just someone fiddling in between— like the bad fighting for good, but don’t you ever tell her that.

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