eternally-yours-24 - Tumblr blog

[eternally-yours-24]

[id: a light pink userbox with pastel pink border and pastel pink text that reads “this user loves psychological horror ”. on the left is an image of Mima Kirigoe from Perfect Blue. /end id]

[eternally-yours-24]

i now understand how certain people felt when harpy eda was revealed 😳

[eternally-yours-24]

"you cant fix her" I DONT WANT TO FIX HER. i WANT TO BE BY HER SIDE WHILE SHE DESTROYS PLANETS. I WANNA HOLD HER HAND AS SHE BLASTS SOMEONE HEAD OFF. I DONT WANNA FIX HER.

[eternally-yours-24]

happy womens day to everyones favorite woman

[eternally-yours-24]

There is something so beautiful about reaching out to the monstrous with intent to touch it gently. To risk the sharp teeth and the lethal claws, to defy fear and revulsion, and choose to be delicate with something that can be, and often is, incredibly brutal.

[eternally-yours-24]

Writing fanfic is so hard. Idk how y'all do it, I feel like I'm smashing two Barbies together telling them to kiss meanwhile bitches out here writing masterpieces.

[eternally-yours-24]

[eternally-yours-24]

*opens word doc covered in blood* it doesn’t have to be good. it just has to be done.

[eternally-yours-24]

idk i just wanna sit in a dark library at night in the candlelight wearing an oversized sweater and exchange glances over my book to my lover while the rain pours outside and feel at peace with the world

[eternally-yours-24]

“The very reason I write is so that I might not sleepwalk through my entire life.”

— Zadie Smith

[eternally-yours-24]

fuck them kids

[eternally-yours-24]

sorry professor I could not do this assignment. there are fictional characters in my head.

[eternally-yours-24]

Dear spider lovers…

[eternally-yours-24]

not writing, not not writing, but a secret third thing

[eternally-yours-24]

Chapter 1

Henry Creel x OC

1959

"Christine, come downstairs and meet our new neighbors."

I sighed, placing my pen atop the open notebook in front of me. I'd been attempting to ignore the social commotion downstairs, to shrink into the background, hoping to be forgotten. To my dismay, it had only worked for a few minutes. My mother had obviously sensed my absence and called for me.

Only yesterday, I'd seen the shiny blue car pull into the driveway of the house next door, a moving van puffing along behind its trail. I never expected anyone to move into the house with the stained glass rose on the door. It had been standing since the turn of the century, and rumored to be haunted. I'd wanted to catch a glimpse of these individuals at the time, but my shyness had overcome me, and caused me to scurry back inside my own house, cutting my impromptu walk short. Now, curiosity resurfaced, but the idea of social interaction weighed heavily on my shoulders. I dragged my feet as I stood up from my desk, left my room, and ventured cautiously out into the hallway. I lingered at the top of the carpeted stairs, crouching down to peer through the elegant bars of the banister, as if fearing the bite of a predator.

Through the little cage, I saw four people standing in our sunlit foyer. A family. They seemed nice, and normal, but perhaps a bit too perfect. Like a painted portrait of a family, instead of actual people.

My mother quickly honed in on me, causing me to abruptly stand up.

"Come downstairs, now," she said patiently, with a faux sunny smile. I knew that look. She was irritated, but she didn't want to snap at me in front of our guests. At this point, it was better to simply obey her. Her composure could shatter like glass if tested.

I nervously smoothed my frilly lace skirt, my palms slightly sweaty. I lightly jogged down the stairs. One step, two steps, a third. When I finally reached the bottom, I was relieved to find that the attention wasn't solely on me. I hated that—it always felt like my own personal spotlight, when all eyes were on me. A light I'd desperately want to switch off.

My mother seemed happy, though. "Ah, there you are!" She chirped. She touched my forearm and encouraged me closer, which I allowed, reluctantly. She guided me front and center, her hands wandering to my shoulders, showing me off as if I were a pretty little doll. Yet it only reminded me of my frumpy appearance. My black hair, long and stringy, stopped at my shoulders. My face was pale, and freckled, and a bit too round. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses were perched on my nose, and the eyes behind them were mismatched. The right green, the left brown. A feature I always wished I could change about myself.

"This is my daughter, Christine." My mother's sunny smile turned up a few impossible watts. "Christine, this is the Creel family."

The adults were Victor and Virginia, and they had two children, Alice and Henry. Victor seemed pleasant enough, but Virginia made me…uneasy. She smiled, rosy-cheeked, blonde hair perfectly curled…but her demeanor had a plastic feel, fake. Her ironed dress and manicured nails screamed perfectionism, and control. She greeted me kindly, but her smile grew forced, as if she were judging my every flaw.

Alice bounced right up to me, blonde ponytail swinging. Sweet, bubbly, and outgoing, she seemed delighted to be in the presence of another girl her own age. Well, anything to be free of Virginia's scrutiny.

"Hi, I'm Alice!" She giggled. She held out a hand, clad in a white silk glove. "I just know we're going to be best friends!"

I briefly stared at her outstretched hand, until my mother's grip subtly tightened on my shoulders. Uneasy, I reached out and took her hand. Instantly, my mind thought of the millions of unclean things that could be lurking on her skin. Anxiety flared briefly in my chest, but I forced myself to hold on. She gave my hand a quick, friendly shake, and then let go, to my immense relief. Even as she pulled away, a kind of grimy imprint of her touch lingered on my palm. My thoughts spun, and I hugged myself nervously.

Guilt had joined in with the chorus of unpleasant emotion. I hated to act like everyone had leprosy, but I couldn't help it.

Alice didn't appear to notice, however. She began rambling about Barbies, and make up, and glittery nail polish…things I'd never had much of an interest in. It was quite easy to tune her out, and for something else to catch my eye. Someone else.

The "perfect family" illusion was broken; a black sheep, a crack in the facade. Standing away from the others, almost in the corner, was a boy, with slicked back hair and stunning blue eyes. He was dressed rather formally, his flannel shirt tucked in. This was…Henry, I assumed. He was the only one who hadn't said hello. He hadn't said a single word, in fact. He wasn't even looking at us, his gaze turned towards another room in the house.

He was like a ghost; small, quiet, and easily forgotten. I felt a sudden chill, a shiver that crawled down my spine. One glance at his demeanor, and I knew him. I knew that posture. I knew that sad, distant expression on his face. I'd seen it myself sometimes, when I glanced in the mirror.

He must've sensed me staring at him, for his blue eyes suddenly met my discolored ones. In that moment, in that brief second, I felt a strong pull towards him; my loneliness acknowledged his own with a silent, intimate nod of understanding.

"Oh, don't mind my brother," Alice cut in, rolling her eyes. "He's not very friendly."

"He seems okay," I replied, quietly. Defending him? He was still watching me, but his expression was impossible to read. His walls were impenetrable, much like my own. It fascinated me. Even the buzzing, staticky discomfort of that handshake had faded into the background.

"I think we should be heading out," Victor said. "It was delightful to meet you both."

"Likewise," my mother responded, effortlessly. She gave me a quick shake, prompting me to respond.

"Nice to meet you," I recited.

Goodbyes were exchanged, and our new neighbors headed out the door, in single file. Virgnia had reached out and tugged on Henry's arm, encouraging him out with them. A gesture I was quite familiar with. He went along willingly enough, but remained silent. Oddly enough, Virginia had never pestered him to speak, as my mother would have.

Even as the door closed behind them, I recalled that moment with Henry. How we related to each other, without saying a word. I knew, right then, that he was going to be quite the mystery to solve.