#Rose Red's All Hollow Eve

[ihatealimore]

Moonlight

(word count: 1,751)

Sitting atop the hotel roof, Kurapika gazes above, immersed in the canopy of stars in the night sky. Despite the late hour, a sense of melancholy washes over him like cresting waves crashing against the shoreline. You and Kurapika had spent most of the day working together to recover a pair of scarlet eyes. Something he greatly appreciated, nonetheless, he was still feeling hollow. Empty.

The sound of the rooftop door opening doesn't even draw his attention. You sit down beside him, offering him a single red flower, "Rose for your thought? A guy was selling them in the lobby for Valentines Day."

"Thank you, (Y/N)," Kurapika takes the rose and brushes his fingers against its velvet petals. He lowers his eyes from the sky to inspect it closer before setting it down beside him. 

"The stars remind me of home," He admits without looking at you, a hint of longing in his voice, "Back when... The clan was still alive."

"I'm sure it must be difficult," You console him while hugging your knees to your chest, looking up at the sky.

"It is. You think you're accustomed to the pain, but then some days, it just hits harder than usual," He murmurs, leaning back on his palms, a constellation of stars reflecting in his grey eyes, "But I believe dwelling on past tragedies won't change anything. I'd rather focus on doing what I can to honor my clan's memory."

The mention of home stirs up old memories that are both sweet and painful. He can't help but appreciate your presence next to him as you had always been his pillar amidst the chaos. These conversations with you always left him feeling vulnerable, yet stronger somehow.

"That's a good way to look at it," You say softly, "I'm sure they'd be proud of you and all."

Kurapika lets out a dry chuckle, "I hope so," He turns to look at you, his eyes turning scarlet in the dim light of the moon. His voice drops lower as he holds your gaze, saying sincerely, "You're different from others, (Y/N). You understand what it's like for me. You've been there when no one else was. It... Means more than I can express."

The confession leaves his heart racing and cheeks warm with unspoken emotions, feelings that were always an undercurrent in your relationship but never acknowledged openly until now. Your presence has become something of a balm against old wounds, providing comfort where words often fail him.

You turn your head to look at him, surprise morphing your face before a soft smile dances on your lips, "Well, someone has to, huh?" You tease him in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose so," The Kurta responds matching your teasing tone. He chuckles quietly, feeling a lightness replace the heaviness in his chest, "Thank you for being that someone, (Y/N)."

Your joke managed to do what few could, draw genuine laughter from him amidst his sorrow. He feels a sudden surge of gratitude for this person seated next to me who has done more than simply understand his pain, who shares it with him and still finds reasons for them both to smile.

"Oh, look," You point toward the stars, tracing out a constellation into the intangible space above you both, "There's Orion."

Kurapika follows your line of sight, observing silently before a nostalgic smile touches his lips, "Pairo and I used to spend countless nights stargazing just like this. We had memorized every single constellation."

"Oh, so you must be more knowledgeable than me," You take his hand in yours, index fingers aligned as you point upward, "Show me some more."

His heart rate quickens, the warmth of your skin instantly spreading through him. He swallows hard but manages to keep his composure as he points your joined hands towards another starry formation.

"That's Cassiopeoia... And over there," He guides your fingers further right, "Is Ursa Major."

As you and him spot more constellations together under the night sky, Kurapika feels an indescribable sense of tranquility washing over him. A rare moment where he can forget about everything for a while and just live in the here and now. A simple act has never felt so intimate before, perhaps it's because he found himself longing for more moments that belong only to you and him.

After a lingering moment of silence, you hum in thought, musing aloud, "Guess we're pretty small in comparison."

"Indeed," Kurapika agrees, looking down at your intertwined hands, "In the grand scheme of things, we're just tiny moments in this vast universe."

Yet as he speaks these words, there's no trace of disappointment or despair, instead an acceptance and even a strange kind of peace. Their significance on the cosmic scale strikes him less terrifying when he's here with you, shining brightly in times when everything else had seemed dark.

"But that doesn't mean our existence is insignificant, (Y/N)," He turns to you with a knowing smile, "Just like these stars, each one of us has a unique light to offer and together we can create constellations."

"I like that. It's poetic," You say with a smile as Kurapika sets your hand back down, however, you keep your fingers intertwined with his.

"I must have picked it up from you."

Kurapika chuckles lightly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. He couldn't deny how right this felt, the smooth play of your fingers against his. He lets a contented sigh escape from his lips as you and him fall into a comfortable silence once more, your eyes drawn to the mesmerizing dance of stars above.

A peaceful calm that he doesn't often feel wraps around him. It makes him realize how much he appreciates these calm moments with you amidst the calamity of his life. Simply existing together under millions of distant lights. 

When you lean your head against his shoulder gently, he stiffens for a moment, surprised by the sudden contact. But then he relaxes again, adjusting his position to accommodate you better.

"It's a beautiful night," Kurapika whispers, matching the tranquility of the evening with his voice, "Thank you, (Y/N). For being here with me."

"No need to thank me," You reassure him easily, "I like being around you, Kurapika."

Kurapika's heart skips a beat at your admission. He swallows, glancing down to see your head still rested against his shoulder.

"I... I like being around you too, (Y/N)," He confesses, the hushed words tumbling vulnerably from his lips.

Flickers of moonlight illuminate the features of your face, those gentle eyes reflecting the twinkling stars above, that soft smile warming him from within. Kurapika finds himself lost in this moment, watching you with a newfound awareness. The vast universe seems to dim into insignificance compared to the captivating constellation seated next to him.

To him, you are radiant and endlessly intriguing. Like a galaxy full of secrets waiting to be unraveled. You're beautiful and elusive like a shooting star that left him enthralled. As terrifying and new as all this may seem, it feels inherently right for him to acknowledge these feelings towards you tonight.

"(Y/N)," He starts softly without breaking his gaze, "I..."

The next hushed words calmly slip from your lips without hesitation, "The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" 

His heart pounds loudly in his chest as he takes a moment to process your statement. The phrase was often used as a romantic and indirect way of saying 'I love you', something he had learned during his travels.

"Yes," He finally manages to breath out, meeting your eyes with resolute determination, "It truly is. As are you."

For the first time that night, Kurapika feels an edge of nervous anticipation creeping up, a surprising shiver running down his spine. 

Your expression softens further upon hearing his words, leaning more into his touch, "Think this is fate?"

"Fate, destiny," Kurapika muses gently, "I have never put much stock into such concepts before."

But as he watches your face illuminated by the moonlight and stars, so close yet somehow still feeling ethereal, he finds himself reconsidering.

He quietly confesses, "But with you. It feels less like chance and more like an inevitable collision of destinies that were always meant to intertwine."

This shared moment between them brings him closer than ever before to believing in something beyond facts or reason. That there might be some hidden threads tying them together despite the odds. 

You smile, one that is both his undoing and his salvation tonight, "That's... very sweet."

Kurapika feels a strange sense of satisfaction at your words, his heart beating erratically in his chest, "That's just how I feel."

"Kurapika?"

"Yes, (Y/N)?" He responds, his voice a low murmur in the serene quiet of their surroundings.

He moves closer to you, reducing the distance between you and him until he can count the number of breaths you take. He was ready for any question or request from you, acutely aware of every little detail, the way his name sounds when spoken by you softly into the calm night, how his heart flutters anxiously yet excitedly in his chest.

You lean in, your breath hot on his cheeks until your lips finally connect with his, soft and warm like a summer day. Taken aback for a moment, Kurapika freezes.

But then it all clicks into place, the way your breath had hitched before you leaned in, the subtle shift in your gaze. It was what he had been hoping for.

He cups your face gently with one hand and returns the kiss earnestly, an intimate dance between them under their curtain of stars. When his lips part from yours, he realizes he's never known true winter until now. You're peering at him with a gaze full of longing, something that's mirrored in his own eyes.

Kurapika takes a moment to gather his thoughts, still reeling from the intimate moment you and him shared. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you securely as he looks back at you.

"I..." His breath catches in his throat and Kurapika finally admits it out loud, "I've never felt this way before."

The lingering taste of your lips feels like frost on a winter morning, cold yet indescribably beautiful, unforgettable. He feels strangely exposed yet safe under these glowing constellations. 

"Me either," You admit, your tone vulnerable, "But I'd like to explore this with you."

A sigh of relief falls from his lips at your reply. He wraps his arms around you a little tighter, pulling you close until your bodies are flush against each other.

"I'd like that too," He whispers back, leaning in to steal another kiss, slower this time, filled with promises of shared tomorrows and nights like these painted under the myriad colors of love.

[sapphicreadsdb]

Hi do you by chance have any sapphic fantasy recs? preferably adult fantasy but YA is fine too

sure! tho this could will get quite long... no links, sorry!, bc it was kicking up a fuss with those for some reason

+ = ya

pennyblade by j.l. worrad

lady hotspur by tessa gratton

sofi and the bone song by adrienne tooley (+)

she who became the sun by shelley parker chan

the scapegracers by h.a. clarke (+)

the third daughter by adrienne tooley (+)

the daughters of izdihar by hadeer elsbai

the malevolent seven by sebastien de castell

blackheart knights by laure eve

the warden by daniel m. ford

the unbroken by c.l. clark

dark earth by rebecca stott

witch king by martha wells

scorpica by g.r. macallister

the mirror empire by kameron hurley

now she is witch by kirsty logan

silverglass by j.f. rivkin

the woman who loved the moon and other stories by elizabeth a. lynn

...(this answer is how i discover there's a character limit per block so. doing this in chunks.)

fire logic by laurie j. marks

a restless truth by freya marske

when angels left the old country by sacha lamb (+)

the traitor baru cormorant by seth dickinson

an archive of brightness by kelsey socha

the bladed faith by david dalglish

the winged histories by sofia samatar

dragonoak by sam farren

the forever sea by joshua phillip johnson

into the broken lands by tanya huff

the jasmine throne by tasha suri

daughter of redwinter by ed mcdonald

the last magician by lisa maxwell (+)

the fire opal mechanism by fran wilde

...

the black coast by mike brooks

high times in the low parliament by kelly robson

foundryside by robert jackson bennett

the enterprise of death by jesse bullington

mamo by sas milledge (+)

from dust, a flame by rebecca podos (+)

uncommon charm by emily bergslien & kat weaver

wild and wicked things by francesca may

the unspoken name by a.k. larkwood

brother red by adrian selby

the final strife by saara el-arifi

way of the argosi by sebastien de castell (+)

the bone shard daughter by andrea stewart

ghost wood song by erica waters (+)

into the crooked place by alexandra christo (+)

ashes of the sun by django wexler

the midnight girls by alicia jasinska (+)

the midnight lie by marie rutkoski (+)

the never tilting world by rin chupeco (+)

water horse by melissa scott

...

a master of djinn by p. djeli clark

the good luck girls by charlotte nicole davis (+)

among thieves by m.j. kuhn

black water sister by zen cho

the velocity of revolution by marshall ryan maresca

sweet & bitter magic by adrienne tooley (+)

the dark tide by alicia jasinska (+)

the library of the unwritten by a.j. hackwith

a dark and hollow star by ashley shuttleworth (+)

the chosen and the beautiful by nghi vo

the councillor by e.j. beaton

these feathered flames by alexandra overy (+)

the factory witches of lowell by c.s. malerich

fireheart tiger by aliette de bodard

...

city of lies by sam hawke

bestiary by k-ming chang

the raven and the reindeer by t. kingfisher

the winter duke by claire eliza bartlett (+)

master of poisons by andrea hairston

the empress of salt and fortune by nghi vo

night flowers shirking from the light of the sun by li xing

down comes the night by allison saft (+)

wench by maxine kaplan (+)

girls made of snow and glass by melissa bashardoust (+)

girls of paper and fire by natasha ngan (+)

the impossible contract by k.a. doore

burning roses by s.l. huang

the house of shattered wings by aliette de bodard

not for use in navigation by iona datt sharma

weak heart by ban gilmartin

girl, serpent, thorn by melissa bashardoust (+)

the devil's blade by mark alder

...

we set the dark on fire by tehlor kay mejia (+)

the true queen by zen cho

moontangled by stephanie burgis

a portable shelter by kirsty logan

sing the four quarters by tanya huff

all the bad apples by moira fowley doyle (+)

the drowning eyes by emily foster

the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon

miranda in milan by katharine duckett

the afterward by e.k. johnston (+)

thorn by anna burke

penhallow amid passing things by iona datt sharma

in the vanishers' palace by aliette de bodard

summer of salt by katrina leno (+)

the gracekeepers by kirsty logan

out of the blue by sophie cameron (+)

black wolves by kate elliott

the circle by sara b. elfgren & mats strandberg (+)

unspoken by sarah rees brennan (+)

thistlefoot by gennarose nethercott

passing strange by ellen klages

(and breathe)

[johnnparsons]

Summary: How different times in his life made Johnathan grow to hate Polly Pocket. He definitely did not watch the Barbie film.

A heavy door swings open and silences the room. A dark, detached stare lifts to acknowledge the locals enjoying their afternoon at The Tavern – a seedy, rundown pub in Walthamstow – then to the pub owner, Pete, standing behind the bar. Firm nods are exchanged between the men, and similarly to a conductor’s cue, after a few beats, the pub springs back to life.

“Y’alright, John?” “’Ey up, John.” “Howay, man” “John, mate!”

Griggs, Marmy, Thick Boy, and Jim. Four men Johnathan could rely on, to be the eyes and ears on the streets, and report back to him with anything that could be important. All they needed were some strollers and glasses of rose to fit in with the stuck-up bitches in Chelsea. Probably lose a couple of stone, too.

Johnathan drags a seat across the pub towards the end of the bar, in his usual spot, where he can lean against the wall, eyes cast downwards as he picks at the torn skin over his knuckles. Marmy appears next to him and grabs the tray with four pints. It’s the only type of reward that satisfies them. Wordlessly, Johnathan puts down a ten-pound note.

“Cheers John,” Marmy says and turns to leave, stepping over the shattered glass. Johnathan only responds with a grunt. It’s clear his mind is elsewhere. The men let him go wherever he needs to, they’d all been there when they were starting off.

“Why don’t you just go round, you fuckin’ pillock?” Thick Boy, ironically, the smartest of the bunch, though hard to tell from his harsh Geordie accent, shouts across the pub from his seat. “You’re makin’ more mess, like.”

“How about you get off your bloody arse for once, eh, Thick Boy?”

“To be fair, mate—” Griggs chimes in, then Jim finishes his sentence, “He’s right.” There’s a nod to the floor, and all eyes fall on the red stained footprints covering the loose wooden floorboard. When one starts laughing, the rest of them follow.

The men argue over who will do the mopping: Marmy created the mess but Marmy cleaned up last time, Jim is usually the one to always clean up, Griggs never leaves much mess, Thick Boy rarely moves. Whilst they’re distracted, Pete calls Johnathan over quietly, “Jonno, over here.” Pete is a short, chubby man with a round face and friendly features, but it doesn’t require much intuition to figure his patience shouldn’t be taken for granted. He is the kind of man you’d expect to run the local’s favourite, family friendly pub, rather than hosting men who have made bad decisions and in return have nowhere else to go.

Johnathan sighs, pulling the bottom of his shirt upwards to wipe the specks of blood off his face. “Not today, Pete. I know. Alright? I fuckin’ know.”

“You took it too far—" “Yeah, I know.” “He had a—"

“I said I fuckin’ know,” Johnathan’s voice booms, but the chitter chatter can still be heard in the background, “Didn’t I, mate? I fuckin’ know, and I can’t fuckin’ take it back now, can I? So what do you fuckin’ want me to do?”

“Listen to me.” The switch up in Pete is always too fast to catch. He has his hand wrapped round the collar of Johnathan’s t-shirt, pulling him up so their eyelines meet. There’s no room for pity here. “Last time, was the last time. This time, is your last chance.” His words are measured, balanced, but most of all, fair. “Don’t make an enemy out of me, lad.” Pete glances towards the men in their booth, then back to Johnathan, as if to say: or you’ll be getting a visit from them.

Out of pride, but not quite anger, Johnathan shoves Pete’s off him, “Fuck off, mate.” Pete’s grip becomes loose only because he allows it. He can see that John’s temper is reduced to a simmer and that his words are being heard. There’s a silent understanding, which Pete acknowledges by fixing up a glass of whiskey. “Merry Christmas Eve, lad.”

The first time Johnathan met Pete was around twenty years ago. He was a skinny boy with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, tears streaming from his eyes which was stinging the deep gash along his cheek. When are you going to learn your lesson, John-Boy? Unless you’ve found your fuckin’ mother, fuck off, his father had yelled at him, after having abandoned him for a week to drown his sorrows at The Tavern. It was then, when Griggs and Jim picked up a shaking Johnathan off the floor, and Marmy, Thick Boy and Pete did whatever they had to do. One blocked his view, the other covered his ears. To this day, Johnathan doesn’t know what that was exactly, and he never cared to find out. But it hadn’t stopped him from seeking out his father and it hadn’t stopped his father from taking out his grievances out on his son. All it did stop, really, was stop his father from enjoying The Tavern, which in return gave Johnathan a place to run to. If it wasn’t from his father, then it was after his fights, personal and criminal, until he grew into a man with a rabid sort of ferocity that no longer needed a place to hide, but a place to keep his secrets. Like today.

“Oi John,” Marmy calls out from the booth, and Johnathan barely looks over his shoulder. “We’d been talkin’, yeah—”

“And really, well, we were just waiting for the right time, weren’t we, boys?” Griggs says, then Jim and Marmy both nod, mumbling ‘aye, aye’. Thick Boy sits there like he’s surrounded by idiots, but he’s the only one without a pint in his hand, instead both hands are kept beneath the table. Jim brightly continues, “But we got something, something small, init, but it’s actually well nice.” A beat, then Marmy says, “We only just went and got your little girl a fuckin’ Christmas present.” Begrudgingly, Thick Boy brings out a box. It’s pink, or purple, or somewhere in between.

“What the fuck is that,” Johnathun grumbles, but it gets him out of his seat. He’s laughing, as he throws the box up in the air like it’s a football. There’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes, which the other older men could’ve probably related to back when they were his age, at thought of maybe, just maybe, his parents would let him see Zoe for Christmas. All he had to accomplish now was to not turn up drunk.

***

“What do you mean, you don’t fuckin’ play with Polly Pocket anymore?” Outraged, Johnathan’s hands go to his hips.

“I’m thirteen,” Zoe says, eyes narrowed. Her walls are full of posters of bands he doesn’t recognise, pop stars who look like gimps and probably wear makeup, and the toys on her bed have narrowed down to one: a teddy bear he didn’t get her.

“Yeah, and? I’ve got Polly for you every year!” It’d been ten years since Johnathan first gifted Polly Pocket to Zoe for Christmas. Since then, although he didn’t get to stay for long, he made sure she always had the newest edition in her possession. It had been worth it, to see the smile on her face. “This is from Porto! Do you know how hard it is to find one of these out there?”

“Uh... No?” She might as well have said: and I don’t fucking care.

“Christ, you’re a fuckin’ nightmare, you are. Nan and Granddad know about this?” Who, technically, were her great grandparents.

“Mhm.”

“Fuck me…” Johnathan blows air from his cheeks and takes a sip of his tea. It’s painfully silent. He can feel her staring at him, not particularly wanting him to say something, but maybe making him uncomfortable enough so he leaves. This isn’t exactly how Johnathan imagined their Christmas to go, however, so he slowly walks around Zoe’s room, pretending to keep himself busy whilst thinking of a conversation starter that might get more than three words out of her. But then:

“Johnathan?” “Dad.” “Johnathan.” “Dad.” “You know what—” “Alright, fine. John, then.” A beat. He’d be an idiot to mess up the one-time Zoe has ever asked him a question. “What is it?”

“Do you really want to give me a good Christmas present?”

“’Course I do. More than anything.” Something good to remember him by. Anything that might outweigh the bad.

“Can you tell me about your parents?”

The warmth and softness in his features quickly harden into something sharp and rough, visibly shutting down. “Zoe.”

“Please? Nan talks about her all the time. She only ever has good things to say.” It’s the first time Zoe has sounded so earnest, but Johnathan remains unwavering.

“Yeah, well, nan and granddad weren’t there, and you don’t need to know,” he says tersely. Not to fucking forget, they were her parents.

***

“Alright, alright. I’ll give it to her.” Johnathan gives in, and the guys cheers in celebration. “You sure kids like this shit, yeah?” He doesn’t need further persuading, but they reassure him anyway. A Christmas with your child, especially when they’re young, is special. They all know that.

An hour or two pass. Johnathan has returned to his seat, finding solace in somewhat solitary, with the Polly Pocket box placed to his side. Suddenly, and rather unusually, the pub door opens and he hears the sound of heels clicking against the floor. He could tell it was a woman from the whistling and the low coos heard from the other men, but he pays them no attention and keeps to himself. Any woman with an ounce of self-preservation would’ve walked straight back out the door, but the clicking of heels grows louder and it’s only when she sits next to him that makes him look up from his drink.

She exhales nervously and runs her hands down her skirt. It’s low, goes past her knees, ironed. From her hands, he can tell she’s older than him, closer to Jim’s age, but he can’t be sure.

“Hiya,” she says. Softly spoken, definitely smokes or smoked, poorly dyed hair but definitely not the type of person to enjoy this kind of pub. There are lines on her face that suggests a long and hard life lived. He could even see it in her eyes. It looks like she’s come straight from work, not an office so deep in the city but an office, nonetheless. Did she not want to be with her family, after working on Christmas Eve? “What a lovely welcome,” she laughs quietly.

Johnathan goes to look over his shoulder, as the crudeness from the guys were audible from where they’re sitting and tells them to shut the fuck up. He used to join them, back in the day, before he was legally able to drink and before he knew better, so their taunts of calling him a bore and acting like he’s better than them rolls off his back. “Your, uh—your label,” he points towards the tag sticking out of the woman’s blazer.

Mortified, her hands fly round to tuck the tag back in. The redness of her cheeks might’ve been attributed to the cold weather but now the tips of her ears match. “Oh my god, thank you.”

“You’re alright.” “That’s so embarrassing.” He shrugs. It wasn’t that bad. Worse things have happened in this pub. “I’m—I just, I must’ve forgotten to take it off,” she scrambles to explain. “It happens." “I hope I didn’t walk all the way over here with it out.” “Doubt anyone saw. No one here really cares anyway.”  “God, I’m so silly. I don’t know why but I always do that.”

An almost silent sigh. Way to fucking bang on about it. He could understand lying once, he was happy to play along, but lying again after he let her off easy was starting to piss him off. She was taking him for an idiot. “Want me to tear it off?”

“Oh, no. No, that’s alright. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”  “Wouldn’t bother me.” “Oh,” she laughs. “It’s okay. Thank you, though.” The corners of his lips quirk upwards, but only faintly. “What’s good here?”

Johnathan returns a blank stare, though underlying the pause there’s an apology, then he responds coolly, “If you’ve come here for a good drink, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

“Oh,” she laughs again, and it’s clear it’s a habit to just fill the gaps. “What are you drinking, then?”

He inhales sharply. Strangers, small talk, he was in no mood for bull shit, so he replies curtly, “Whiskey.”

“I’ll get you one of those, love.” Pete interrupts before Johnathan can speak again, and fixes him a look, as if to remind him it’s Christmas, and Johnathan responds with a look of his own that reads: Eve. The drink comes quickly and the woman looks up at Johnathan, hesitant, almost as if she wants to clink their glasses together, but it could’ve easily have been something else entirely. She simply smiles then takes a sip of her drink. “It’s very nice,” she says timidly, like she’s aware he never asked, “My dad used to drink this.”

Johnathan looks up then, twisting in his seat slightly, and lips part as if to say something but he decides against it. Smacking his lips together, he mutters, “Glad you like it.”

“Is that for your daughter?” She asks, tipping her glass towards the Polly Pocket box, smiling sweetly.

“Yeah,” he replies, turning to glance back at the present. “Yeah, something like that.” “How many kids do you have?” “Just one. A little girl.” “What’s her name?” “Zoe.”

“Zoe,” she repeats with a smile, but this time it felt like the smile was for herself, as if it meant something to her, to be saying the name for the first time, “that’s a beautiful name.”

A small crinkle forms between his brows, as the memory of picking out the name with Melissa comes flooding back to him, and he resigns by taking a large gulp of his drink. “You? You have any?”

“Kids? Oh, yes. I have, um, I have four.” “Bloody hell.”

“I know, it’s a lot.” She laughs quietly. “They’re lovely, though. Here, let me show you--” she digs into her bag to find her purse. She fishes out several photos, slightly crumpled, because maybe she tends to show them off to strangers in pubs. One is a family photo, must have been a birthday, they’re all surrounded around a cake and two of the kids are pretending to blow out the candles which hadn’t been lit. He spots the big smiles, tall windows and clean clothes, and can see why she would carry this photograph with her. Then she moves to the next photo, it’s her and three of her kids, on a beach. A family holiday, she says, and talks about how funny that moment had been and how grateful she was that her husband caught it on camera. The more she speaks, however, the more bitter he feels, and whilst he knows the deep resentment is misplaced he can’t quite help himself. So, when she moves to the next photograph, he abruptly cuts in, “Alright, I get it.” She looks up at him, wide-eyed, but seems to understand her mistake. “Your kids are lucky,” he says, less aggressive.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” Quickly, she tucks the photos back into her purse.

“Why are you here, then? Shouldn’t you be with them?”

She pauses, trying to be more careful with her words. “Oh, I was. Earlier. But I told them, I mean, they know. Well, I’m here to meet someone.”

“Meet someone?” He repeats incredulously. Who could she possibly be meeting, here, at The Tavern, that wasn’t here already? Another lie, he suspects.

“Yes, I know, I’m—well, I’m a little late. Oh, nevermind.” Despite the look she receives, which was one that didn’t hide how unconvinced he was, she holds her drink like she intends to finish it and continues the conversation as if her company is welcomed. This makes Johnathan think that she’s either incredibly stupid or incredibly lonely, or quite possibly both. “So, what do you do?”

He looks up at Pete with a look in his eyes that reads: save me. Pete responds with a small shrug, clearly holding back a laugh. It’s either the alcohol, or the fact that he is also incredibly lonely that makes him respond, “I work in construction. You?”

“Wow, that’s impressive.” “…Are you havin’ me on?”

“No! Not at all,” she protests. “I take it that explains your..?” Her gaze drifts downwards, nervously, from his ripped shirt to the stains and his battered hands.

After a beat, he replies simply, “Sure.” He wonders how long ago she’d noticed all the things she’d pointed out, what kind of explanations she’d come up in her head, and whether or not he needs to be concerned. The look in her eyes, though he may be reading her wrong, seems to be filled with worry, even more so as he catches her staring at the scar on his cheek. “Nosebleed,” he says, tugging on his shirt that has blood stains from earlier in the day. She lets out a sigh of relief, then her gaze returns to his cheek, concerned.

A deep sigh, and before she asks, he offers, “Uh, cut myself. When I was kid.”

Her hand goes up to cover her mouth. Fucking dramatic, he thinks. “How old were you?”

“Nine, ten. Something like that. Wasn’t a big deal, to be honest.”

“Oh god,” her hand twitches, almost as if she wants to reach out to graze it. Thank fucking god she doesn’t. “It must’ve been bad, if the scar’s lasted this long.”

“Yeah, well.” Johnathan finishes off the rest of his drink, unintentionally slamming the glass against the wooden bar top, which catches Pete’s attention and without a word, Pete refills Johnathan’s glass. Even without looking at her, he can tell that she wants to ask more questions. It’s Christmas Eve, he reminds himself, and maybe he’s trying to build some good karma for tomorrow, so he turns to her and asks, “What do you do, then?”

“Oh, me?” She tries to quickly gather herself, which is the only reason why he doesn’t quip back with ‘who the fuck else?’. “I’m just a secretary.”

“Right. You use one of them computers and all that?” She laughs, albeit meekly. “Yes, yes I do.” “Not doing too bad yourself, then. You work in the city?” “Oh, no. Well, thank you. But no, I work just outside of it. It’s, um, I work at Wilkinsons.” “Do ya?” He groans. “I hate that place.”

She doesn’t ask a question this time and simply takes another sip of her drink. They sit in silence, like this, for a while. But he couldn’t quite get himself to enjoy it. The woman seemed upset, for reasons he didn’t care for, but it was getting late and he figured this wasn’t the kind of place she should be at right now.

“It’s a bit rough round here, you know,” Johnathan says. “Shouldn’t come this way by yourself. Not this late.”

“I—I know, it’s been a while, since I’ve been around here.” He could tell from her voice that she’d been crying, or at least trying to hold it back. “But thank you.”

He shrugs, and he decides that this is all he can manage. He looks behind him, over at Griggs, Marmy, Thick Boy and Jim, who all quickly look away in unison and act like they’ve been talking this entire time. He wonders what would be more painful, to sit here or join them. He doesn’t think too long on it and decides to get up, but before he can leave his seat, another question shoots out from from the woman’s mouth: “Would it be okay,” she starts, which makes him stop, and she pauses as if to muster up the courage to finish her question, “if I asked you, what you were like as a kid?”

“What?” He blinks at her. “Sorry, I just—“

“Trouble,” Pete says, with that warm smile of his, and joins them on their side of the bar with a drink of his own. “Like you won’t even imagine, love.” Johnathan rolls his eyes, but Pete continues, “The number of times he’d come in here with all sorts of cuts and bruises.”

“Alright, Pete. Settle down,” Johnathan says, disgruntled.

“He was always crying and getting into some kind of shit,” Pete says, and though his eyes were on the woman, his words were for Johnathan, “And I was always getting him out of it.”

Tears began rolling down her cheeks, and she runs the back of her hand beneath her nose as she sniffles. “Where was your dad?”

“Left him!” “Pete.” Johnathan warns.

“His mam too. Then one day, he stops crying and he’s all grown up. Turned into a right little cunt, mind you. But look at him, doing what’s best for his kid. Better than all of us in here, I’d say.”

“I—I should go,” she says unexpectedly. Johnathan only notices now how her makeup has run all down her face. All of a sudden, she’s in a hurry to leave, as she finishes her drink and slips out of her seat. “I’m sorry, I—you’re right. It’s late.”

“You alright?” Johnathan asks, confused but also a little concerned.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, it’s been lovely.” She puts on her coat and collects her things. Then, she pauses and brings out her purse again. “Can I leave these with you?” She asks, holding the photographs of her family.

His face twists in bewilderment and looks to Pete for some help. To which, of course, he offers none. “I—”

“Please,” she says, and pushes them into his hands. “This is a bit fuckin’ weird. They’re your kids.” “I know, I know, I just—” “He’ll have ‘em,” Pete says, unhelpfully. “You sure you’re gonna be alright? How’re you getting home?” “I know I seem a mess but I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll take a taxi.” From her purse, she takes out some cash to pay for the drinks. “Here, for both of us.” “No, no. On the house,” Pete says, and waves the money away. “Please, take it,” she urges. “It’s Christmas Eve,” Pete says, for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “I can’t possibly—” her hand has been pushed away so the cash goes back into her purse, but she makes another attempt to pay.

“On us,” Johnathan says, putting his hand on top of hers so she puts her purse away, but this makes her drop it. There’s a small thud once it lands on the floor. Some money, a card and another photo has fallen out of it. Johnathan reaches down to pick up her belongings, but when his eyes land on the photo, his whole body stiffens. Slowly, he stands back up, holding the photo between trembling fingers. There’s a glint in his eyes that Pete hasn’t seen since Johnathan was a child. “What’s this?” Johnathan asks, voice low and seething.

The photo is of him as a child, playing in the park with a woman and a man. He only recognises himself, from having dropped Zoe off at his grandparents, and they’d showed him pictures of himself as a kid, along with his parents, who were the woman and the man in the photo. The woman in the photo, which he can see now, having a resemblance to the woman standing before him.

“Johnny,” she whispers under stuttered breaths, “I can explain…”

***

The atmosphere quickly grows uncomfortable and tense. Johnathan, who had promised to himself to never lose his temper in front of Zoe and to only show her the good parts, was clenching his jaw and pushing his thumb into the palm of his hand. Unfortunately, however, Zoe had already seen it all. She stood tall and unphased, because even if he were to blow, she was desensitised by it all. It’s too much of a burden, for a thirteen-year-old, Johnathan recognises this and he tries his best. But every time he’s around her, he can’t help but feel that it’s never enough.

“She was here, earlier,” Zoe says bluntly. “What?” “She’s been coming every year. With her kids. They’re nice.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” Johnathan says.

Zoe sighs. “She gave me this.” She opens a drawer and pulls out several photographs. They’re ones he has seen before that night, in the pub. A few of her with her new family, and one of the one she abandoned. “They won’t tell me everything. They said she was sick and now she’s doing better. But I overheard them talking, her and Granddad, and they said you--”

Then, suddenly, Johnathan cries out, “I’m her kid!” A lump quickly forms in his throat, and then breathlessly, he says, barely audibly, “I was her kid.”

Zoe’s eyes are as cold as her mothers, and she looks at him like he’s weak for letting his emotions get the better of him. “You should go.”

“No, Zoe—” “Nan!” Zoe calls out, “Granddad!”

That evening, after being escorted out of his grandparents’ house and being told to never come back, Johnathan was arrested on a charge of assault and manslaughter, after getting into a fight with the first group of men he’d bumped into and beating one of them to a pulp in a fit of rage. It was in the news, and he’s sure Zoe heard about it at some point. Luckily, Andrew pulled some strings and he was released, but even then, she didn’t seem surprised when he next visited her.

***

The funeral chapel is small but there’s not an empty seat in sight. Johnathan can’t bring himself to believe that this many people have turned up. Every single one of these people, at some point, knew his mother and they had enough of a relationship to pay their respects. All of these people knew her better than he did. He sits three brows behind the four kids who, until today, he’d only known from a few photos. From what he can see, they’ve grown up to be the kind of kids she’d be proud of. They spoke to him, welcomed him, and thanked him for showing up. Johnathan, now nearing fifty, returned the respect. He carries himself better than he used to, whether that came with age, or money, or power, it didn’t matter. He could tell it’d caught them by surprise, however. He'd arrived in a range rover with tinted out windows, a driver who opened the door for him, and behind him was another car full of men in black suits who were sat at the back of the chapel. They didn’t ask questions, and they suspect it’s because they knew not to.

The service was described to be a celebration of life. Her husband and her kids all did well in staying strong and delivering speeches that made people both laugh and cry. They opened the floor up to anyone who wanted to say their final goodbyes. People from all walks of life stood at the front and spoke from their hearts or shared funny anecdotes, which Johnathan thought was a bit stupid, if he was being honest. Surely this could’ve been done at the wake, he had things to do, and if he was being honest, he was only here because Zoe had mentioned it to him and he wanted to see her. The husband, who weakly still held a smile, asked if anyone else wanted to go. Johnathan flicked his wrist to check the time, and Zoe bumped her leg against his.

“Sorry,” he whispered, but with a turn of the hands, as if to say, I’ve got places to be. “No,” she whispered back, “You should go.” “What?” “Go. Say something.” “Zoe, no.” “You’ll regret it.” “I won’t.” "Dad." But if there’s anyone he caves to, it’s his stubborn little shit of a daughter, and after some more badgering, he rises to his feet. The husband looks surprised, shocked even, then looks to his children. Johnathan could only see the back of their heads, but he assumes they gave him an approval of sorts considering the husband’s reaction.

Once he’s at the front, Johnathan clears his throat and gently tugs the collar of his shirt. “Hello everyone. My name is Johnathan,” he pauses, and rubs a hand along the brim of his jaw. “Laura… was my mother.” Several people look surprised. “I was her son. When I was eight years old, she left me at an Wilkinsons. She told me to wait there for five minutes, and if she wasn’t back then to go home. I didn’t know how to tell the time and I didn’t know what came after ten, so I had no way to know when five minutes would have passed.” That, surprisingly, earned a couple of laughs. “I stayed there, in the same place, until the shop was starting to close and I didn’t see Laura again.” Johnathan presses his lips into a thin smile, he supposes there was no point in telling people what happened after that. “Until, around twenty years later, she showed up at my local pub, dressed in this blazer that was too big for her with the tag sticking out. Mind you, it was probably the first woman that’d entered that pub in about twelve years. So, from the get go, I knew she had issues.” Another few laughs. “We spoke a bit. She told me about her family, her kids,” he nods towards them, sitting in the front bench, shedding a few tears, “She asked lots of questions. It’s a bit of a blur, now, if I’m being honest, but one thing I remember clearly is she asked what I was like as a kid,” he says, rather solemnly. He didn’t know it at the time but now he knows she was just trying to get to know him, and she was trying to show him that she was doing better, that she knows how to be a mum. A memory flashes in his mind, of when the photo of them had fallen out of her purse, and how he’d slapped her before she got a chance to explain. It hurts now, knowing everything. “I wish…” The words are caught at the back of his throat. He’s not confident he’ll be able to say what he wants to say. “I wish I could forgive her. I don’t know if I can, but I understand her better now.” He looks at Zoe, someone who probably won’t ever understand why he’d done the things he’d done, even if it was for the best. “I’m glad she got another chance,” he lies.

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and an old drunk man wobbles in whilst yelling profanities. Gasps and whispers fill the room. Johnathan nods towards the men sitting at the back who promptly escorts him out of the room, and he makes an effort to settle the chaos in the room and bring the services to a smooth finish.

As groups of people leave the chapel and transition to the wake, Johnathan waits outside.

“John?” Zoe calls out. “I’ll be there in a sec, love.” Johnathan nods, urging her to go along.

A black range rover pulls up outside the gates of the funeral chapel. From there, they could see the top of the hill where the service was held. Sat on the drive is the old drunk man, who somehow had managed to get a hold of a bottle of vodka. The window rolls down and Marmy pops his head out of the window, “Oi oi, what we do we have here?”

“Ahh, Marmy, my fuckin’ saviour, you,” the old drunk man slurs his words and gets up from his seat.

“Aye, get in here.”

The old drunk man opens the door and climbs into the seat, rambling about what a fucking day he’s hard. Wordlessly, Marmy locks the doors, then says, “Have at him, John.”

The old drunk man turns to his side, and only then notices a larger figure sitting next to him. “John Boy?”

Slowly, Johnathan looks up at the man with a cold stare, fixing his knuckle duster on top of his leathered glove. “Been a while, dad.”

[blinkbones]

desperately wishing i had the skill to draw & write a version of hamlet in which they're all plant people and i could push the corrupted garden metaphor to be visual and fictionally tangible but also make it a story of rebirth with a 6th act in which the rot has fed a new, uncorrupted court (compost is cool, u guys)

ophelia as a conventionally beautiful & pretty flower (poppies? fragile, love-red, but also linked with poison) in the beginning, slowly rotting and being overgrown until blossoms sprout out of her eyes and mouth to show her being smothered by the patriarchal court. after her suicide she's reborn as pond vegetation. a lotus. lilypads. for the rebirth theme and as reclaiming of the danger represented by water throughout the play (framing her as a character capable of escaping the rot of the court, like she does in the original through death outside of the castle)

guildenstern and rosencrantz as parasitic vines twisting and twining together until they meld into a two-faced janus after their death. only then can they begin a reflection on the past and the future, and play the role of commentator of the evolution of the court

laertes as a weeping willow, a tree to symbolize his toughness and successful masculinity, but a riverside, droopy one, to foreshadow his death (he is felled in the end and does not re-ermerge from the water as he sister does)

claudius as an unleafed winter apple tree, already fully corrupted, hiding masses of insects and putrefied plant matter inside his hollowed bark. also because dead trees foster new life (favored by birds to build their nests in)

king hamlet as a thunderstruck tree, echoing his brother in being already symbolically corrupted (bloodthirsty conqueror) but felled prematurely via extreme violence

polonius as mistletoe. for the association with trickery (emblematic of the loki & baldr story) and the completely toxic parasitism (unedible fruits, ungraceful, sucks the sap of stronger trees--claudius) and also because i think it's kind of a goofy plant

all guards and gentlemen as common trees -- birches, maybe, because they're less imposing than oaks. (and of course, they're all rotting a little bit, like the rest of the cast)

horatio as an olive tree, because it's associated with athena (thus knowledge, which evokes his erudition) and it's a southern tree, showing his foreign status (also because i like olive trees, and i like horatio. i think he needs a nice tree)

gertrude as lily of the valley, because it's pretty and a beautiful pure white, but kind of droopy and absolutely poisonous. Also associated with Eve's tears after her banishment from the garden. She eats one of Claudius's apples (but unlike the Eden apples, those are rotten... well... he's a bad apple lol) However it also re-appears every spring (and symbolizes it), which both shows her ability for resilience (surviving her husband's death, which is difficult in this ancient patriarchal society) and foreshadows her rebirth after act 5 (when hamlet will get his shit together and forgive her) However she is reborn as the same flower--unlike ophelia, she isn't able to transform.

and finally hamlet as a black rosebush, because roses are kind of the protagonists of flowers and clearly identify hamlet as the main character, because it's such a classic edgy/goth choice, but also because, while hardy plants, rosebushes are by no means a tree, and we need to show hamlet's inability to fit masculine expectation by making him a feminine/androgynous plant (not a tree--also it shows his ousting from the order of succession, which is represented by a genealogical tree. being a flower, it's clear he's lost the land & throne). also roses are full of thorns, hurting those who touch them, and hamlet definitely fucks up his entire entourage. (i love him). and, finally, the black rose is a botanical anomaly, and echoes hamlet's genre-bending characteristics (as a character and as a play) ; and it's associated with darkness and co.

addendum: the yorick skull alongside a pomegranate as the fruit of the dead (greece); the fruit remains while the plant is long dead. to also evoke the myth of hades and persephone and a link with seasonal rebirth following corrupting actions. also because it has such rich symbolism across the world; so it foreshadows rebirth of the purified court in act 6. also because the little spiky bits of the pomegranate are reminiscent of both a jester's hat (yorick being a jester) and a crown (you can go wild with this one: because hamlet future king, because yorick presented as a paternal figure moreso than actual king hamlet, etc)

[notanothersongaboutlovebracket]

Mental Issues Song Sub-Bracket

Shayfer James - Your Father's Son vs Next to Normal Cast - Wish I were here

Qbomb - Everything is fine

Simple Plan - Welcome to my life vs Chameleon Circuit - Nightmares

Creep-P - Exorcism

the mountain goats - up the wolves vs Neru - Lost One's Weeping

inabakumori - Lagtrain vs sidney gish - sin triangle

The Crane Wives - hollow moon vs The Amazing Devil - The Old Witch Sleep and The Good Man Grace

will wood and the tapeworms - red moon vs Jack stauber - Dinner is not over

Kimya Dawson - Tree Hugger

Jamie Christopherson - Only Thing I Know for Real vs Eve - How to Eat Life

The Eagles - Desperado vs grandson - In Over My Head

The Weakerthans - Plea from a Cat Named Virtute vs The Arcadian Wild - Tell It Like It Is

Eve - Literary Nonsense

Eminem - Stan vs Gary Jules - Mad World

Cavetown - Home

grandson - Identity vs syudou - Bitter Choco Decoration

Eden Epinosa - Waiting in the Wings vs Toh Kay - With Any Sort of Certainty

Fish in a Birdcage - Fish in a birdcage vs Fin Argus - Ship in a bottle

The score - Strange vs AJJ - Body Terror Song

Eve - Dramaturgy

half alive - What's Wrong vs Marina and the Diamonds - Are You Satisfied?

awfultune - Redesign vs AJR - Karma

TUYU - I'm getting on the bus to the other world, see ya! vs Ashnikko - Panic Attacks in Paradise

Guchiry - Abnormality Dancing Girl

Gabby Young and Other Animals - In Your Head vs Raghd - Pressure

Pale Waves - Noises vs Kero KERO boni - toId rather sleep

Tears For Fears - Mad World vs This Could Be On Broadway - Just My Luck

Will Wood - Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics, but I Need You to Leave

Cg5 - Freak Out vs grandson - Despicable

Jessica Darrow - Surface Pressure vs Eve - Tokyo Ghetto

The Crane Wives - Nothing at all vs mitski - a burning hill

Jhariah, Luis Chavez - These 4 Walls

Will Wood - BlackBoxWarrior vs Jhariah - Flight of the Crows

Patrick Stump - Explode vs Katherine Lynn-Rose - Price of Perfection

MGK - 9 lives

Wowaka - Rolling Girl vs Cg5 and The Living Tombstone - 4get

Miracle Musical - Labyrinth vs the police - synchronicity ii

Katherine Lynn-Rose - Top of my school vs Green Day - Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Lemon Demon - I’ve got some falling to do

Red Vox - In the Garden vs Junie & TheHutFriends - The Consequence Of Imagination Is Fear

Danger Mouse, Daniele Luppe, Jack White - Two Against One vs Rainbow Kitten Surprise - It's Called: Freefall

wilbur soot - since I saw vienna vs Florence + The Machine - falling

Sufjan Stevens - I Want to Be Well vs Florence + The Machine - Free

[hunting-songs]

REMEMBER TO REPOST & NOT REBLOG. FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST.

bold  the aesthetic  for your  muse italicize what can be taken 2 ways or applies only partially.

“ you rise, I fall, I stand, you crawl, you twist, I turn. ” / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / a face in the mirror that you don’t recognize. / “ how could you do this to me? ” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “ you’re getting better. ” / “ they smile like a snake.” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there./ “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind./ the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “ oh god, what have you done? ” /

your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you tried to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself./ the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper./ a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown./ you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” / quick to anger. / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. / “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / “ jump. I dare you. ”/ 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “ I was hoping that you’d understand. ” /there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered./ loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “ I miss you. ”/ siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / god-blood. /

“ they say your name is death. ”/all-consuming passion. / think about the things you did. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “ what are you waiting for? ” / a diaphanous sea of rose petals. / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. /the burn was so slow no one ever saw it coming. / learn through teaching. / there were things; your own acts from which you could not recover. / how the other half dies. / “ have you ever thought about why trees bleed? ” /  your mother crashed against the rocks to give you the world. /  you are not safe. you are alone. no one is coming for you. / “ go down with me, fall with me. ” / i am awake in the place where women die. /thunder rolling on the hills. / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. / ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church. / you will do anything to spare them. / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / every sparrow god forgot. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / the worst monsters wear the faces of men. / “ madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me. ”/ “ my blood ran cold. ” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you.

[rauko-creates]

Master List

List/links for all my Supernatural, Venom, and original works (under the cut cause wow there's actually kind of a lot lol)

Original Art:

Even If We Can't See You

GISH Stuff

Lily and the Stars

Mockingbird for @aloha-cowgirl

My Hallows Eve: Summoning

Punk Mermaid (b/w sketch) (with color)

Tiamat

Trogdor Fire Safety Poster

You Made Music Over Me

Spn Art:

Art for Carnivore (Destiel Hell Rescue Fic)

Art for Enemies at Sea (Destiel) by @rathskitten

Art for Rapunzel, Rapunzel by @diminuel (Destiel)

Art for The Curse of Years by@blueraven06 (Destiel)

Attack Dog Cas

Both Hands on the Wheel/"Touch It"

Cas With Wings

Cas With Wings and Halo

Dancing Gentleman for Hold Me While You Wait (Destiel wip)

Dean and Cas Kissing in the Shadows for Talk Green to Me by@winchester-reload

Feminist!Cas (On Thursdays, We Stab the Patriarchy)

I Deserved to be Loved

"I Should Have Protected You"

Jack, Winged Protector

Misha (because I can't stop drawing him)

Rachel Miner Skittles Portrait

The God of Laundry and Hipbones (sleepy crop-top Cas)

Trenchcoat Angel

Wayward Ladies

When there's Nothing to Burn

When Your Eyes Match Your Mood (Blue)

Original Poetry:

A Lily is a Good Flower

Change

Closeted Gross

Exist

Find Me

Much

Purple

This Fucking Box

You

Spn Poetry:

"Don't Do This, Cas" (Destiel)

"Hello, Dean." (Destiel)

His Name on Your Tongue (Destiel)

I Deserved to be Loved (Crowley)

Ocean's Brawl (for Destiel pirate!au)

Roses Are Red, Don't Lock Yourself in a Coffin You Fucking Martyr Destiel)

Son of a Bitch (Destiel)

The Very Touch of You Does Not Corrupt (Destiel)

Venom Fic:

He Helps (Part 1) (Part 2) (1,623 words) (Rating: M) (Symbrock, Anne/Dan) Tags: established relationship, Eddie and Venom are THAT couple okay lol, kisses, shower not sex lol, Venom's clingy but doesn't like being called out on it Summary: Dan get's a little too curious for his own good about just how much Venom is there for with Eddie's daily activities (Spoilers: the answer is he's always there)

I Saw You (792 words) (Rating: T) (Symbrock) Tags: angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, coda Summary: What if Eddie actually HAD seen Venom at that rave? (In which Eddie goes to get Venom himself when he realizes he misses him instead of sending someone else to do it when he realizes he needs him)

Kiss Him Yourself (618 words) (Rating: T) (Symbrock) Tags: kissing, Anne knows, coda Summary: I'm just saying that there was space between when Anne got Venom from Mrs. Chen and when Venom rejoined Eddie and I think Anne and Venom probably talked, and Anne probably gave Venom some good advice.

Let Me Do It (100 words) (Rating: G) (Symbrock) Tags: skipping stones, fluff Summary: Venom is a show-off

The Loser Who Will Save Him (Symbrock)

What We Feel (476 words) (rating: G) (Symbrock) Tags: beech scene coda, fluff, blatant use of quotes from the comics, Eddie calling Venom My Love Summary: “It had whispered to him things about himself which he did not know...and the whisper had proved irresistibly fascinating. It echoed loudly within him because he was hollow at the core. “It was written that I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.” -Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

Destiel One Shots:

'Cause I'm Yours (2,210 words) (Rating: T) (Destiel, Saileen) Tags: dancing, love confessions, angst, fluff, Dean Winchester's low self-esteem, everyone knows, post-canon Summary: Cas gets tired of watching Dean dance with bridesmaids and steps outside for a breather. Dean notices and follows him to see what's wrong. ***or*** That one where Cas is so very tired of pretending that he isn't madly in love with Dean...and also of pretending he can't see the way Dean loves him back. Feathers (2,324 words) (Rating: T) (Destiel) Tags: canon-verse, wing fic, wing grooming, mild angst, fluff Summary: Cas finally has his wings back, but...they're stuck on this plane, and they're getting feathers everywhere. He thinks Dean hates them. He's...very mistaken. I Need You (1426 words) (Rating: M) (Destiel) Tags: time skips, Dean needs Cas, love confessions, fluff, mild angst, first kiss, canon-verse Summary: Dean needs Cas for...well, maybe he just needs Cas. (Written for the prompt "A kiss...out of necessity) Nothing Fucks With My Baby (620 words) (Rating: T) (Destiel) Tags: protective!Cas, BAMF!Cas, BAMF!Dean, murder husbands, established relationship, canon verse, canon typical violence Summary: I was feeling an intense need to listen to Hozier's NFWMB on repeat while writing about Cas smiting the shit out of everything in the way to get to Dean and slaughtering everything that dared to lay a hand on him. Not that Dean's a damsel in distress in this situation; he's actually holding his own just fine. Cas is just intense. Sing Love (2,688 words) (Rating: T) (Destiel) Tags: idiots in love, singing, mild angst, fluff, love confessions, first kiss, Sam ships it, canon-verse Summary: Castiel returns from a grocery run with Sam and overhears Dean singing love songs in the shower and decides to confront Dean with a song of his own ***or*** The one where Castiel finds out Dean's might just be in love with him too The God of Laundry and Hipbones (1,819 words) (Rating: T) (Destiel) Tags: college au, Cas is too pretty for Dean to be smart, Dean's pink panties, fluff Summary: Written for the prompt "I’m sorry you caught me moving your clothes out of the dryer but in my defense I’ve been waiting for one to open up for about an hour now." Basically, Dean catches Cas moving his laundry, gawks at him like an idiot until he leaves, and then spends the next several months not being able to find him...until he does and falls all over himself again. The Nature of a Thing (1,569 words) (Rating: T) (Destiel) Tags: first kiss, fluff, profound bond Summary: Wherein Dean is pretty sure that he and Cas are a thing but is trying to figure out exactly what that thing is.

The Ocean (224 words) (Rating: G) (Destiel) Tags: fluff, canon-verse Summary: Dean finally gets to go to the ocean, and it helps him figure out some familiar feelings

Thief (229 words) (Rating: G) (Destiel) Tags: fluff, pie, canon-verse Summary: Dean makes pie. Castiel is the best thief.

This Is What You Give to Me (479 words) (Rating: G) (Destiel) Tags: fluff, cuddling, established Destiel, post-canon Summary: Just a fluffy little thing about cuddling and Cas musing on how glad he is to be with Dean.

This Is What You Give to Me [PODFIC] (see above for details)

Until You Understand (1529 words) (Rating: M) (Destiel)

Tags: mild angst, fluff, character development, non-explicit sexual content, Dean's low sense of self-worth, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: Castiel loves Dean. He loves him. He loves him. He loves him.And he is 100% done with Dean’s self-sacrificing and self-deprecating. It’s no longer allowed.

We Are Hope (533 words) (Rating: G) (Destiel)

Tags: spn 15x02 coda Summary: Castiel finally understands the essence of hope, and he's going to be that for Dean, even as the world crumbles around them.

You Love Me? (100 words) (Rating: G) (Destiel)

Tags: POV!Dean, Angst, Requited Love Summary: 100 word drabble for the Ficwip prompt "something you don't mean."

Destel Chaptered:

From Perdition: Carnivore (44,868 words) (Rating: M) (Destiel)

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con (not explicit and not Dean/Cas...Dean goes through a lot in Hell) Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, canon compliant, desitel hell rescue, BAMF!Cas, BAMF!Dean, whump, angst with a hopeful ending Summary: Sometimes, something beautiful pierces the blackness. Sometimes, an angel comes along with power in his eyes and lightning in his wings and grace in his hands, and he makes you remember that the universe has wonder in it. Sometimes, he sings over you until you remember how to take comfort in it. Sometimes, he flies you through the stars until you think that it might be okay to exist again as part of it. Sometimes, good things do happen. This story is about Dean’s time in Hell and Castiel’s battle to save him. Long story short: Dean is amazing, Castiel is one bamf, Alastair is horrifying, and in the end, half the battle is convincing Dean that he deserves to be saved.

From Perdition: Gripped Tight (38,297 words, wip) (rating: M) (Destiel)

Tags: major character death (temporary, this is an Empty rescue fic), canon divergent, angst with a happy ending Summary: Castiel once gripped Dean tight to raise him from perdition...now, Dean's gonna return the favor.

From Perdition: With My Bones (1,896 words, wip) (Rating: M) (Destiel, Anna/Ruby, Midam)

Tags: Canon Complaint thru 14x08, Canon-Typical Violence, Memory Loss, Angst, Pining Summary: Angels aren't created to want. So, how does one survive learning to, figuring out exactly what they want, holding it in their arms, then being forced to give it away? The answer: barely. He barely survives it.

Ocean's Brawl (54,568 words) (Rating: M) (Destiel, Donna/Jody, Claire/Kaia, Bobby/Ellen, brief Charlie/Gilda, mentioned Andrea/Benny)

Tags: pirate au, enemies to friends to lovers, pirate!Dean, naval officer!Cas, slowish burn, openly bisexual Dean, swashbuckling, pub songs/shanties, naval battles, historical themes, lgbtq+ themes, idiots to lovers, angst, fluff, character injury, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, slavery, racism, drinking Summary: In a time of oppression, the Winchester brothers and their family of misfit pirates sail the seas attacking slave traders and offering the liberated passage to safe-havens, or–if they choose it–a home on the Impala as part of Team Free Will. Dean meets Castiel, a Naval Captain with orders to enlist him and his band of honorable sea rovers as privateers. Dean refuses, but they end up working together when Castiel offers his vessel as transport for some rescued slaves. Castiel, in turn, travels with Dean as collateral to ensure there is no foul play. Along the way, Castiel witnesses the horrors of slavery and begins to doubt his cause. He comes to admire this wild crew and their kind hearts…perhaps falling for one man in particular.

To End Up With You (20,751 words) (Destiel, Saileen, Garth/Bess, Kaia/Claire, Donna/Jody, Dean x Sam)

Tags: Fix-It, Fluff, Castiel Out of the Empty, Love Confessions, Domestic Fluff, The Bunker Is Full Like It Should Be, Canon-Typical Violence, The Rebar/Rusty Nail (you're gonna have to trust me on this one our boy is fine I promise), Happy Ending, Nothing Hurts, Weddings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Episode Fix-It: s15e20, Carry On, Post-Canon Summary: Okay, but what if Dean actually rescued Cas and DIDN'T die on some rusty rebar…

Too Damn Long (4,313 words) (Rating: M) (Destiel)

Tags: 13x05 coda, angst, fluff, love confessions, implied sexual content, canon-verse Summary: Coda to Cas's return from the Empty

What the Water Gave Me (20,574 words) (Rating: T) (Destiel, Claire/Kaia)

Tags: fantasy au, god/fae!Cas, protective Dean Winchester, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual pining, ALL the pining, angst with a happy ending, fluff, angst with a happy ending Summary: Dean meets Castiel in the woods and spends a long time wondering if he's some sort of vision or dream...until Castiel gets hurt. Dean saves him, falls in love with him, and is convinced there's no way this otherworldly child of the ocean and sky could feel the same for him. Of course...he's wrong.

Spn WLW Fic:

From Perdition: She Keeps Me Warm (8,984 words, wip) (Rating: T) (Anna/Ruby)

Tags: pre-canon, canon compliant, 1600s period fic (at first anyway…), human!Ruby, angst, fluff, Summary: Angels don't disobey, don't rebel. It's their murder one. But, sometimes, you just…fall. And Anna falls in more ways than one.

She's Nice (682 words) (Rating: T) (Anna/Ruby)

Tags: canon divergent, 4x09 coda Summary: Anna and her words get stuck in Ruby's head in a way that she can't shake…so she doesn't.

Spn (non-destiel) MLM Fic:

A Howl at That Moon: Bring You Back (604 words) (Rating: T) (Drowley)

Tags: 9x23 coda, canon compliant Summary: The truth was, Crowley had simply developed a bloody soft spot for one flannel-wearing, denim-clad nightmare...and he couldn't help but be excited to show Dean the world through his eyes.

A Howl at That Moon: "Hello, Boys." (402 words) (Rating: M) (Drowley)

Tags: demon!Dean, implied sexual content (no actual sexual content this is just flirting in the bar and Crowley trying to pretend he doesn't have a Dean-shaped problem) Summary: "We've howled, we've bayed, we've done extraordinary things to triplets..."

A Howl at That Moon: You And I Go Hard (1,294 words) (Rating: M) (Drowley)

Tags: demon!Dean, angst, non-explicit sexual content Summary: Crowley confronts Dean. Dean pushes back. Crowley tries to put him in his place. Things escalate. Turns out, Crowley can't help but give Dean everything he has.

A Howl at That Moon: You And I Go Hard (1,294 words) (Rating: M) (Drowley)

Tags: 12x23, Angst With a Happy Ending, Pining, Temporary Character Death Summary: Crowley deserved to be loved.

From This Dark Room (1,287 words, wip) (Rating: T) (Dean/Gabriel)

Tags: pre-canon, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: When Sam leaves for Stanford, Dean is lost. Luckily, a certain trickster is there to pull him out of his downward spiral...or...that one where Gabriel can't help but temporarily come out of hiding to help Dean.

Gabriel (306) (Rating: M) (Sabriel)

Tags: non-explicit sexual content, fluff Summary: Sam is in awe of what he holds in his arms

Honey, There Is No "Right" Way (10,181 words) (Rating: T) (Calthazar, past Cas/Dean, past Balthazar/Hannah)

Tags: Roommates!au, Ace!Cas, Aro!Balthazar, Demiromanantic!Cas, Demisexual!Balthazar, queer themes, internalized ace/arophobia, fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, Domestic Fluff, Sick Character, best friends, friends to lovers, Happy Ending Summary: “That’s not how you feel about her.” “Castiel, that’s not how I’ve ever felt about anyone. This whole…” He waved a hand in the air and propped up against the arm of the couch, “in love business...it’s complete bollocks. If you ask me, people’ve just seen too many blasted movies, got so hopped up on the rush of getting to know someone that they think that's it, that’s love, but it isn’t. Love is…” He glanced down at Castiel. “Love is choosing the person you get on with best, someone you’re able to be mates with and that you find attractive. All this ‘romance’ rubbish is just propaganda.” Castiel looked at his friend. He thought about the warm feeling that grew inside him when they were together, the way his heart beat just a little faster every time Balthazar was close. “Yes...maybe you’re right.”

Spn M/F Fic:

Absolutely Not (1916 words) (Rating: T) (Meg/Gabriel)

Tags: college au, idiots in love, crack that became plot Summary: Meg and Gabriel go to the same university. He is openly obsessed. She pretends to find it annoying but actually adores him. (Inspired by and talked out with@moderatelypanickedbiromantic)

Not As Intended (3454 words) (Rating: T) (Sam X Gabriel, Debriel, alluded to Sastiel)

Tags: fake dating, college au, fake dating but instead of falling in love...they find out the kinda can't stand each other Summary: Sam brings Gabriel home from Stanford in hopes of pissing off his super conservative/homophobic family, but they all actually LOVE him instead. Dean...maybe likes Gabe a little too much...

The Luckiest (630 words) (Rating: T) (Gabriel/Rowena)

Tags: Schmoop, Canon Divergence, Cuddling, Gabriel’s a little obsessed with Rowena’s hair, and just smitten in general, she adores him too Summary: Just a bunch of cuddling and softness for two characters who deserved/needed more of it

[constellationcrowned]

MUSE AESTHETICS Bold for constants, italics for situational things

Muse: Kariom

“just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl.” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “you’ll get it done before the day is up.” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / a face in the mirror that you don’t recognize. / “how could you do this to me?” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “you’re getting better.” / “they smile like a snake.” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly.” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind. / the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “oh god, what have you done?” / your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you tried to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you?” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. / a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. /

there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that.” / “they weren’t there when it happened.” / quick to anger. / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. /“you’re the best friend i’ve ever had.” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / “jump. i dare you.” / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “i was hoping that you’d understand.” / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “i miss you.” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / god-blood. /“they say your name is death.” / all-consuming passion. / think about the things you did. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “what are you waiting for?” / a diaphanous sea of rose petals. / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. /the burn was so slow no one ever saw it coming./ learn through teaching. / there were things; your own acts from which you could not recover. / how the other half dies. / “have you ever thought about why trees bleed?” /  your mother crashed against the rocks to give you the world. / you are not safe. you are alone. no one is coming for you./ “go down with me, fall with me.” / i am awake in the place where women die. / thunder rolling on the hills. / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. / ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church./ you will do anything to spare them. / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / every sparrow god forgot. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / the worst monsters wear the faces of men. / “madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me.” / “my blood ran cold.” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you.

[rosieroseblossom]

Chapter One - Dream Date

Eleanora

Finally, it was here Halloween at last it falls on the thirty-first. This One however, comes around and reviving this hollows eve. Every inhabitant resident that’s lived in Mystic Connecticut had, suddenly, changed, once Halloween comes for a midnight bite at their toes. The whole village was captured in a spell, like, the town has been put under. Their maintained lawns are completely transformed into ghoulish graveyards. The ancient tombstones had rouse up on the earthly soil; with rotting human remain draped in crimson covered every olive jade bushes. Just on top are giant cobwebs glittering in the pale ghostly light, in total darkness suspend in the mild air. A gust of wind moves across the white porches, above the decorated ceilings where vampire bats hanging down with their big black eyes glowing in the blackness. However though, on the other side of the street are decaying and rundown mansions, as they loomed but there was one with their solid windows are glowing, crimson shooting past the glass. Others chose to display outdoor lights, sweet pumpkins, as they automatically switch colour. Their where also ghostly ones too, that had hanged over the edge of their roofs shining into the deeply darkly night. At each street porch step facing the white fences a plump, orange jack o' lanterns. Each one carved with a shrill blade. All fixed with permanent grins, and their ample eyes, they stare blanky in the midnight. Shooting out of there obscure eyeballs. A milky yellow flicker of waxed candles burnished. Awaking once again the mighty fiery fury of hollows eve. The radiance of the convex horned moon beams against the deep sapphire water that is surrounding Mystic. It silent and there no, massive surges are splashing like a dozen crystals onto the dark sand. Just a calm night and feeling merely excited, and as tradition to go door to door collecting bags of enjoyable candies, chocolate bars, lollipops and red apples in toffee coating. As cold air blows. Drifting a carmine drape; it was floating in the gust of air. A cloud of grey mist slips through the rose window the long silk of a moon and sun print black curtains.

Creeping into a haunted forest, instead it was of a large bedroom. It was a dark dim room having the wallpaper of a dark misty woods, with naked tress but on the walls are black Victorian photo frames, inside them are finely inked pend Illustrations of gothic dark art, but some others occult alchemy symbols and stunning drawings. Around the massive room all the furniture pieces, is very transparent except, at the open window is a mesh red wine claret winged armchair, prompted near the wide window, but quickly across is a big black dresser on top. Absent from their small cardboard boxes all lined up of small-scale of funko pop vinyl figures, and I mean after all, it is Halloween. I’d heard on the TV; that a mental asylum had accidently let loose some of cinema massacre's little terrors. Jason Voorhees wearing his icon famous hockey mask, holding a bloody drenched machete in hand, Michael Myers in a navy boiler suit with a steak knife, and Carrie a honey blonde wearing her prom dress, her silky light pink silk dress, even with Carrie’s smooth golden hair drips in dark crimson. Then there was Reagan, her bright amber eyes, looking right at you, her blazing ambers glare menacing look and oozing, at the corners the small lips of dripping green vomit seeping off it and onto the white laced collar. Just behind them is a beautiful range of paper bound books with, in between a phoney human skull on top. Pulled up alongside is a lucent red-cherry dressing table. Above is a bevel encircled mirror that limpid on a vanity drawer was raised on squat cabriole legs between the gap in the middle of it, a mesh black cushion chair is placed at the of the dresser.

Sitting their motionless on the soft seat and facing to the vanity mirror. Arms bent outwards and seated on the polished wood, with the elbows are placing at the ends of the lucent cherry table and gazing through at a solid looking glass mirror, a reflection stare backed. A glimpse of a light-toned skin girl, with exquisite long auburn hair as it fells and curls past under her shoulders, Eleanora Thornton, a Mystic high school student, but mostly though, she is a confident reigning queen for the goths. She has an oblong face, thin carrot top eyebrows and gorgeous sapphire eyes and heart-shaped blood-rose lips. Eleanora is a kind and slender, but. Dark, no, no she is defiantly not a blood sucking vampire or a moon hugging werewolf, that was far from the truth, rather that she had loved everything that is spooky. Though having long wavy auburn strands, and her smooth mouths stained in black, painting her rosy lips in a midnight gloss, and selections of lovely mini dresses are, which are not all entirely black, but rather red, white, brown and yellow. Eleanora has been a goth for over five years. It all began when I fell in love with horror movies, with creepy ghouls and undead creatures, the ones in fanfiction stories and films, she guesses that Eleanora was exposed to the dark aesthetic side but feels that she has turned from light to darkness. Also, for her father, is a heavy rock and metal music lover, he would be down in his man cave, booming and blaring Alice Cooper, Metallica, Guns and Roses. What sweet music they made. My childlike self so thoughtfully. Then on that day, Eleanora went out and with all my pocket money, left over from Christmas by her grandparents. Eleanora brought her first spiky choker but, the long silver claws weren’t very long just small. Only just at the age of six and Eleanora felt amazing. She could remember on that day when both of her mum and dad’s jaws immediately dropped, when they captured their little six-year-old Eleanora in the hallway.

She then realized, did she make a terrible mistake and I nearly sobbed, but as she looked up, they’d began to smile and told her on how rocking, and beautiful her choker is and since then. They accepted her, for all her strangeness, individuality she was a beauty queen, but. That all changed when she attended Stonington Middle School. Starting at a brand-new school was terrifying. It was a different atmosphere, new teachers, new students but, for me it felt like I was a small fish swimming in a big pond swarmed with deadly sharks. However, it did not stop her love for the darkness, Eleanora’s style blossomed like a red rose to a morning rose, she returned home back, from a lengthy day of school. Eleanora brought for the first chucky heeled creepers, Eleanora was filled with delight and thrilled. After having them they had lasted her through the entire winter. Though when at, middle school, they did not accept weirdoes in black creepers. However, feeling brave to be totally different, to be unique, she did not pursue any popular trends, like the other school students wearing their expensive designer outfits but, still it was not easy for her to make, a lot of friends, Eleanora was a very terrible shy. It did take her a while but, that was when, in fourth period and in her class, she began to listen intently just behind her desk. Visible whispers and a low giggling of nasty explanations about Eleanora and at that moment she felt her heart sank uncomfortably, then I feel the corners of my eyes to water and that day, was the start of the taunts of school bullies.

Before school could start for the day, Eleanora would walk her usual way and then, unexpectedly, she quickly turned back and saw two female students one had dyed blue hair, but the other had medium brown shade hair with cat green eyes and there were striding just after Eleanora, and they were glaring angrily, right at her. She turns back and continued to walk, but then, a pounding of railing squealing catches up to her, then all the, suddenly. She sensed a touch of two hands grip on her arm, ‘ouch’ Eleanora winced the long fingers wrapped around her. Eleanora glanced back and gasped, she gaped in horror, it was the girl with the dark cat green eyes narrowing madly towards Eleanora and then she began to drag hard down on my arm, and I felt my body bending uncomfortably to the side, pulling me harder and then harder. When Eleanora begun to buckle her knees and tumbled on the charcoal pathway, I could then feel her hands released violently of my arm. Eleanora fell completely faced down, lying totally flat, lashed into the solid path and a huge cramping stabbing gushed on me. Then I sense my pulse starts to become slowly faint, almost breaking down, and as Eleanora try manging to break her eyes wide open, just then a burst of wild childish laughter breeze down rhythmically in the far distance. 

The very next morning, Eleanora is striding casually down in the endless hallway, the soft closing of grey lockers echoed the halls, every student is getting ready for their first periods and then I hear, ‘EW! who did your hair, I would so hate to be a ginger’, ‘Yeah me too, I’d be so disgusted if my mum had red haired and passed it to be, I’d be ashamed’ somebody added nastily and fell into laughter. That was just the beginning when, after lunch the day and is nearly at an end and when I was stirring past the row of lockers when abruptly, Elise Collins, a tall girl having short toned fair-haired and with olive skin and forest green eyes, she asked me to borrow my handbag, which at that moment found very odd, on one had ever asked to use my bag before, especially the one I was holding, though. Eleanora did have a spare on in her locker, thinking nothing of it, Eleanora gave it to Elise, and she turned quickly and walked around the corner of the lockers. Eleanora, thought innocently, that they could need my bag for something special! Once when school was finally over at last, Eleanora is sitting on her bed and scrolling on Instagram, she had made the account only a while ago and it was something of a creative outlook to express and be myself more, until unexpectedly to my shock, she saw a video and to her surprise. To see a black and white printed strip body bag, her bag lay on a rusty ash grill. They a big lighter and a match and then, a soft flame pirouetted upward across her beautiful bag. It became in gulfed to a big bronze glow the black leather turning dark brown at the flickering of the burning flames, at that moment Eleanora grabbed for her pillow and dropped her head into it and burst into tears. The unending hollow of freak, weirdo, nobody likes you why can’t you accept that. It all crammed up into my mind for endless days like it is a constant reminder, I just did not understand what was wrong with me, whenever Eleanora is getting to school it was another roller-coaster ride, a bump after another. Hoping that everything will get better soon, but not as everyday was the exact very same, name calling, tugging my hair back in class and the horrible laughter which become so unbearable to my ears. Wishing that Eleanora could stay at home, just for a day, but it was not option. Soon it got even worse, like even if it could not be, for that her gorgeous auburn hair become the main centre of attention.

Basically, I was sitting at the lunch table in the cafeteria, and I sat alone. Eleanora was hearing giggling in the far distance of the school cafeteria trying to ignore it. Until something cold suddenly poured right down my long hair, it did not take me to long to realize that it was milk! Eleanora peered over her left shoulder and saw a short girl, having navy long jet hair, she had black round glasses, in an iced-blue cheerleading uniform. Glancing at me and told me, with a so not sweet, oops, ‘my bad’. A grin appeared on her face, and she chuckled and smiled triumphantly, proud of what she did. Eleanora feels the cold dripping of the wet white milk, drip off the ends of my hair and I frowned unhappily. She walked away and joined the rest of her squad and I immediately rose and ran leaving my warm tray of food, to go cold. After that incident, I was chased home by the angriest mob, she had ever seen, it was like something out of a Frankenstein movie where she had felt Eleanora was a monster. When Eleanora got home, she began to sob uncontrobely, feeling the corners of her eyes go wet and the tears slowly falling off my cheeks, about an hour later, my parents found me lying on the floor crying and exhausted. She began to them everything that had happened, at first Eleanora was much too scared to tell her mum and dad what did occur today, but I could not conceal my long agonizing pain another moment. After a few minutes just to calm down, they both wrapped themselves around me soothing and gently told me something that I thought I’d never got to hear, Eleanora, every time those voices shooting out horrible names or laughter, you just say to yourself. “Be yourself, don’t take anything from anyone, and never let them take you alive” Gerard Way, that was my mum’s favourite singer and now that I hear that, it is like a calm breeze the words felt so comforting, it had made me feel warm and quickly I felt safe again, safe to be me once more.

Until one unexpected day, Eleanora’s life was about to transform. About five weeks later, and she had met an assemble of amazing and unique individuals, they were dressed in head to toe in complete black, blanker than anything else, she could barely imagine in her entire life that she, would have ever meet the traditional goths, their big, jet black frizzy hair, their dark makeup with eyeliner, wearing leather jackets, fishnet tights and other styles of leather jackets but with beautiful gothic patches, that are stitched here and there. When I first set my eyes on them, they were the birth of the 70s punk, Eleanora felt so honored and so humbled, the very first person I had talked to was. A boy with short-cut brunette hair and hazel eyes. He raised his left hand and firmly shook mine; his name was Charlie Hardy. We both to smile at each other. Until Eleanora had discovered a remarkably but, familiar face, she was amazed to see that it was, Maire Underwood. She was once a former cheerleader, only for a few years but, since then she has changed. Her life turned around and she threw her icy pompoms to a side and now turned full goth, she was once a cool ice blond but is now a winter jet black. Maire, Charlie and Eleanora soon developed a close friendship, that would last forever. At the beginning I was alone, a lost soul trapped in a very dark place when at last a shimmer of bright light, appeared and I had realized, maybe I am not the only one after all.

About a week later we got invitations written in fake-blood, of course. My heart is thrilled when I got invited by the romantic goths, the romantic is more on the loving side but to me, they were equally as royalty and they were beautiful, but focus and drawn to the dark things of life such as graveyards, the moonlight, ravens and dead roses. It was so kind of them to invite us to the Elm Grove cemetery which was on the outskirts of town. A splendid resting place for the ones that already have passed over, they were our beloved loved ones once. I always found that place very sleepy quiet, where the sky is a blue and pink casting and blending in perfectly as if dawn is setting in, in Mystic. As we went inside past the giant stoned gate, she listened carefully to the rustling in the large pine trees, but as the warm rays of sunlight dimly streamed through the thick dark green leaves, Eleanora and the other goths started strolling along the sandy stony path when we came to abrupt halt. When we spotted up the path, we then saw three silent figures standing with their backs turned toward us, but as we approached them slowly. All three whirl their heads around and stared a boy, he stood at about average height with curly black hair, light indigo eyes and was dressed in a flawless black velvet buttoned loose-fit long-sleeved shirt, black trousers and right, on the shirt is a red diamond brooch on him.

His name is Sean MacBride. He stood casually arms folded, next to him where two other girls, one tall with very long, dark brunette hair but tinted at the bottom where bleached highlights, Ivy Green, she was always in my maths class. Adored in a stunning floor-length hourglass gown which looked exquisite, it even fitted her like a glove it even was in a bloodlust red at the bottom of, is black, too. Across her long, slender neck, a lacy choker with black stones dangling on her glowing skin. But the other girl was much shorter than the other two. Jade Frost, she had the coolest silver eyes, as they resembled as a wolf’s stare, I could just imagine her at this moment, staying up all night and start howling at the moon and not caring when the sun was going to rise, but they were cold and dark and having her black wavy hair flowing under her shoulders, she wore a white long dress with ruffled sleeves. Across Jade’s face was a stunning Colombina Barocco Silver White Masquerade Mask. In the air the wind was picking up a sweet strawberry perfume of roses. I can then feel the curling of late autumn leaves, cutting under at the palms of my hands as they fall one by one off the branches of the rows of old ancient pine trees and weeping willows still looming over us.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Elm Grove cemetery. It gives me such delight to meet you all” said Sean in a charming and pleasant tone. He sounded so courtly like something out of a different century.

Eleanora must have forgotten. It sounded so old fashion. Which she had forget too, that the romantic goths loved gothic poetry, I mean, I cannot blame them for their fondness and affection. Eleanora replies.

“I am really glad to meet you, all as well”. After a few minutes, we all got together, and we all made our way through the giant cemetery. Eleanora could not believe on how beautiful the graveyard looked in autumn. No matter what the day, week, or whatever month it was, Eleanora stroked the ground was soft and green, instantly she saw something long, thin and covered in dirt sprouting above onto the earth.

Which was a worm with muck casing its slender body, it moved around the mud very slowly then in a second it sinks back into the earth. “We’re just about to make some pot of tea” Ivy said with a chuckle.

“What! Come on Ivy isn’t this like our sixth tub of tea already today” said Vlad raising his eyebrow to Ivy, still continued to smile not caring what at all.

“Well, I am sure, that our lovely guests here would love to have some of our warm tea” said Vlad once again crossing his arms back, at that moment Ivy turned to him.

“Oh-why-yes of course, please do excuse me,” said Ivy. So, Ivy walks away and vanishes behind the pines. “I’d just wanted to say, thanks for inviting us to your tea party, it’s just so madly magical,” I said. “We’ve been planning this for a while, we don’t have much time here,” said Vlad, but Vlad's tone was glum as his smile fades. “But we only come here once a year. After, “he paused. “A-after,” trying to get the words out but Vlad cuts her off, "After, the entire cheerleading and football team came and ruined it." Vlad murmured. “It had taken us almost a year to fix this cemetery, we had to skip school trips just to fix this area back together, another whole month to grow back every beautiful flower, of every kind, in this graveyard," Vlad then paused. "But we did get help from the rest of our community,” said Jade abruptly. “I mean what about, the massive oak tree,” said Maire. “Well, that’s the last thing to worry about, as it was never touched. They say that our oak tree is haunted! quite foolish is not it, Vlad laughed. This awful and horrific story started when a frat boy fell of the trail from his group, he had become lost inside the largest forests of Mystic, he walked for miles of trees, tress and tress. When he saw that the moon is full, and a white beamed down on a giant magnificent oak tree.

It was at the centre of the shadowy woods. Swarmed with dark tress, his eyes fixed on the oak like a jewel thief had happened upon a lavishing diamond. He froze. He stared at it almost fascinated, as if he had never seen an oak in his whole life, almost easily being taken by it. It was so far away from the others, as they looked like dark shadows completely sombre. Something about that, oak tree made it stand out from the rest of them. Maybe those faded brown leaves, dipped in blood are blowing through the nippy air, floating in the midnight sky. As he stood for what seemed like an hour, continuing to stare, eyes growing wider. The black eyes expand in the bright light of the moon glistening his sapphire eyes brightly. Until he unstiffens and finally, he would step forward but only for a few inches, though they were large steps forwards. Until he unstiffens and advanced his way past the perennial ryegrass.

That was going to be his biggest mistake. As he got closer to the tree, still eyes wide and locked on its gripping crimson beauty. Then the tall dark trees were swiping of its spindly branches and with the red leaves brushing in the wind, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, then, suddenly moving out his arm forward, and slowly stretching wide his long fingers onto the leaves. When the fingertips touched the leaf, then the brushing, stopped! The gust of the air died down and the night become ghostly quiet, for a moment and the Justin, a honey blonde, hazel eye boy, was not even sure what was going on and he still had his hand on the crimson leaf. Until a very faint. SNAP! The boy spun his head round, but when he did. It was only to a hole of darkness, with the rows of pines wrapping around the thick blackness, soon he had ignored it and turned back to the tree. There it was again. SNAP! It happened again. When he whirled back.  Nothing there. Justin took a deep breath and got focusing back on to the oak, once again. SSNNAPPPPP!!!!! The noise made him jumped out of his skin and he whirled around, there was nothing, only the moonless darkness, but then, Justin heart began to hammer as he tried to stare through the thick blackness of the night. When it became quiet again, he had immediately gone back on over to the oak and with his hand which is still imposed on the blood arrowhead. Everything around him is silent, dead silent, at that moment he become motionless.

Nothing was going to happen. When, a quiet rustling was moving slowly underneath him. He did not look down! instead, keeping his head raised and the eyes gaze on the tree. Completely as if been put under a spell, a powerful force is drawing him near and nearer to the tree! Is somebody or something just waiting for him on the other side. Until something hard and wooden came tugging at the bottom of his jeans, Finally, taking his eyes off, off onto the ground and to his horror! he saw a tree branch, it was curling around the dark denim. Straight away of the boy's eyebrows rose, instantly there is a look of fear. His eyes began to bulge out of its sockets almost about to burst, at that moment he could feel his teeth chattering. Until the thick and heavy branch started up its way onto him and began to crawl slowly up, up and up. Carefully wrapped around his stomach, then making its way up to his strong shoulders and then roping around, his thick neck. The boy wanted to scream but he could not as his throat begin to squeeze tightly around him. His voice became raspy and wheezy, trying to get the any words out. Only the sound of frosty air could be heard from the boy's lips. Abruptly the whole brunch started to pull him up and he popped open his eyes. The night sky was even more divine especially on this midnight. Though the moon shone more on this night on the boy could not escape the horrors he is facing. His heart was still pounding and his body shaking uncontrollably like a leaf, Justin tried to loosen the branch as it snaked around him, but then the wooden grips were just too strong for him. He returned his attention back on the tree and now looking up closer. Every leaf rustled, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. He looked down then, saw, the branchlets extending wide and spreading onward.

He gasped. The tree branches started separating. As it then spread, the entire trunk moved, and he had expected to see a white glow radiation like a glowing portal. After a silent moment, and then the tree suddenly became a statue. Then he felt a slight loosening of the long branch. Justin calmed as he could get some oxygen, however it roped him once again. As my throat feels raspier. Although he can freely move his neck, locked tight in the arm of the branch, and as Justin looked up and there, a hollow pitch darkness, the deepest depths of blackness he could ever stare at. A few minutes nothing happened and feeling scared enough, until. He saw it, something, or somebody in the total darkness, when it emerged. A small figure it lingered forward. Emerging behind the naked branch was a blonde boy Justin squinted his eyes through the darkness, and then, his light brown eyes are shot with fear. Inside the tree, every limb, every leaf but, something else as well. Sitting there, above the boy she looked much older than the young boy, adorned in an electric blue dress. I felt my stomach bubbling up with trembling fear. Then, the boy, began to stand slowly, slowly up, which made my legs go totally ice cold. I feel a cold breeze slip down my spine when he sees his skin. It looked abnormally pale, with dark black rings under them. When he realized at that moment, the boy and the girl, both, had competently, jet black eyes. Justin gulped hard, he could feel the beads of sweat sweep over his forehead and as Justin gazed back. They are glancing right back at him. They caught him gawking at them, at that very second, the girl and boy both then started to smile an unnatural grin on their faces. My heart then dropped. They’re abnormal smiles look cold and dead expression and expressionless, the eyes were looking as if, straight into my soul. Justin made that mistake of taking his eyes off them. Continued to look, until he caught a glimpse at the corner his eye and saw, a glimmer of something sharp and lying there on the branch when instantly, the black eye boy picked it right up, off the leaved branch, no longer invisible. My heart is beating almost out of my chest and that was when, he saw it, that it was of, an axe.

When I took my eyes off the boy and saw that the golden fair-haired girl, sitting there like a queen on the wooden wing treating it as if a throne. With her elegant electric blue day-dress, which looked like a Victorian period, Justin could not see her face entirely since it was in darkness. All the sudden, she leaned forward carefully, and my heart is beating, faster and faster than ever before. Justin’s jaw suddenly dropped when he saw the girl’s lips are stained in. Wet-BLOOD. Blood. The word screamed in my head, as it was dribbling off her. Drip, drip, drip, sprinkling off on the dark grass. Even with my staring at them was not making things better neither, by the hour trying desperately to try and wiggle free but to my failure, I am caught in the spiders’ web. Then the girl stood up too, and my gaze at the fair-haired left arm. Which was behind her back when she did reveal of that of a severed head. At this very moment I wanted to throw up, it was Alexia Bullwinkle, the cheerleaders captain and a good friend was now all limp. Those evil monsters! How could they do this. Justin helplessly stared, but he could not help but stare, looking right at her lifeless head, the strands of chocolate curls falling in the air and her mouth unresponsive, but the tongue was still inside. A flow of red blood running down her dyed pink roots, what scared me at that second was her alluring green eyes. They were a couple of obscure crimson holes, empty, exactly like the boy and the girl were. Did they scoop them out? like it was ice cream, but rather torn as if ripped out entirely, developing the coldest chill up along both of his arms and then, suddenly, coming over towards him. Justin instantly closed his eyes shut and grinded hard on his teeth. In a second the bloody head began to fall slowly out of the solid black eyes of the girl, her pale iced cold hands and the head began to roll, roll down onto the greenery.

Walking confidently down the dim corridor and Eleanora unsurprised of seeing those familiar faces. All grown up, quiet chattering in big groups. Eleanora, the petite flaming red-haired high school student strides down the endless hallway when abruptly, she remembered that it was back at the last twilight. She looks on back that nippy evening when she was at home and it was a full moon night, a good time to heal all the wounds. A perfect time to discover the odd and the peculiar, Eleanora started using for the first time, tarot cards, my mum told me that I should never play with evil but, as she shuffled them around on her table in her bedroom in the dim, she had carefully placed one down and then the next, then the next one after. After a minute of doing this, they started to open a door for her once she began to unfold them. Now that it is the next day and thought back to the ones that she had used the night before, it was laid out in front of her and as predicted, everyone was staring at her.

She was unfazed by their evil stares, gazing at Eleanora like she had done something harmful. I took a deep breath and closed her eyes, for a moment I cracked them back open, then I lifted my head like a powerful Queen when little rays of light are cascading, as though by magic. As if, I am wearing a jewellike crown over my head. However, I only conjured that, in my mind. I mean, Eleanora is indeed the queen and as she kept on strolling through the endless corridors wearing dark velvet, Dolls Kill, high chunky platforms and hanging off them of silver N' cross accents. The echoes of click clanking of heels against the marble flooring and as I am just about to turn the corner, that is when I had, accidently bumped into him. He was around about my age, attends the same high school, too. He was handsomely lanky, his complexion was a ghostly pale, and his hair were jet-black was shoulder-length, which that is unkept, he had those gorgeous lapzil eyes and he was very slim build but not too skinny and instantly I knew at that moment, my heart was skipping a beat, wait! what! My heart fluttering, she did not predict this at all, you will find love when you least not know it, one of the cards stated. I mean, we’ve have been best friends ever since kindergarten, I had just turned seven and he saved me, resecuring her from a group of immature girls, who were hissing and spitting across the sand box and thinking that it was never going to end. Then, someone showed behind the playground swings in high-top red converse came running and jumped into the box deep into the dark yellow sand, and Eleanora saw that it was Jared. I could not think of what ever happened next but, he was my hero.

As the time passed and quickly learned that he too, is a goth exactly like Eleanora! She is indeed a queen after all, since she had found last week that she is to rule a dark reign among the goths. Although needing a king at her side. She finally found her dark angel at last; Eleanora had never given a thought about it, she never had the thought about finding love ever especially with anyone or anybody, she never taken a glance at any smoke hot boys, well, Eleanora did, though they would always turn her down in a minute. It was simply because, she is a red haired or perhaps a ginger and no boys in her school would never go out with a ginger, the other reason was easy, they weren’t interested, and they would probably find Eleanora incredibly boring until now! and as she continued getting ready underneath the big vanity mirror of her red cherry wood dresser. Expecting to see a range of her expensive designer makeup displaying along the red table but surprisingly. A layout of very coloured candles casting long shadows along the walls, in the middle of the table was an old wooden box, of a walnut wood, a rusty golden metal decoration all around it. Inside this crate of abundance of dried herbs, dead flowers in corked glass bottles, crystals such as a bloodstone, lapis lazuli and the essential oils like Lavender. At the bottom of the box was a Raspberry Leaf, then Rosemary directly from my garden. Beside her, a large black makeup bag and as Eleanora began to unzip and withdraw a long onyx eyeshadow brush. As she added an extra layer of smoky eye, smearing across my smooth lips a dark rouge saint Laurent blood-red lipstick, my mouth felt like it is dripping of crimson, so blood licking she thought. As if began burning its beauty consuming from within it against my lips. Over an hour of transformation, she saw back, glancing at my own reflection, Eleanora is astonished, feeling more stunned she could not believe her eyes, on what stared back at her.

Eleanora rose off her soft chair away from full view. Still was in disbelief on how glamorous she was. My light-toned complexion was even lighter, her lips are ruby, the mascara was black and fuller. Eleanora is wearing a sexy long lace, sheer flare sleeves crop top, with a spaghetti black top under it, having a translucent ruffled trim skirt with a skater also placed there. Eleanora’s gloomy glam, of platform punk creepers, with fishnet ankle socks. As she straightens her black leather four-layer collar choker in the mirror. Eleanora admires the long copper hair, in the thick mirror, they pass down her shoulders, curling at the bottom like red rose, when something rather odd happens. A smile came over her face, like the kind you do not ever see from goth girls, some people might say, goths don’t smile well, we do smile. The room completely silent, but all the sudden my cheerful smile is whipped off when a shuddering of a loud, BANG. Made Eleanora jumped out of her skin. When another big, huge, BANG, she started to get a biting chill prickling up along her arms, as she stood there, but then, BANG, she whirled back around to see my wide window, the long curtain blowing slowly.

I feel all my hairs stand up on ends and a cold chill slip up my spine. The crashing was much more aggressive now. Then perceive a cry that was other-worldly, it did not sound human like at all through the thick glass. Finally, Eleanora pulled back the curtain and to her surprise! That it was just a branch hitting against her window and with a cool sigh, and as she went back to the dresser, but she halted. Eleanora heard, another creak but, it was outside her bedroom door, she froze for a second. Then, now, heavy and loud footsteps striding in the darkness. Going boom, boom, boom. A moment of silence fell in the dark room, she tried to remain still and quiet, but her eyes were fixed at her door, rather the doorknob, then she sees the handle turning. Her door then creaked opened. Eleanora's hands began quivering. Eleanora ran fast back to her bed and now, until a big thump, at that moment she could feel her heart exploded, she still froze at beside her bed. Then Eleanora slowly turned back, and the door was open, fully, A small bright light was moving past the open door, and she saw a tall, long black figure. Eleanora squinted her eyes through the darkness, when she was hit with a warmth sense against Eleanora pale skin. When a flame was coming… coming... closer and closer, and then Eleanora’s heart sank.

She looked up quickly and then light formed into a single, white candle a flame and as it lowered below her face, Eleanora feels her cheeks going torrid. Finally! she makes out, who was there and then for an instance, I knew exactly who it is! seeing beyond the draped shadows. That it’s only her older sister, Claire. The candle is luminating her face, glowing up her flawless complexion. She was a princess Arial, long velvet hair, stunning Caribbean blue eyes and a round shape face, Eleanora then noticed that Claire adorned as a Día de Muertos dress, her whole face painted in a sugar skull, she looked spooky-splendid having black fine detail, wearing a perfectly fitted slim KIllstar maxi decelerated dress, Victorian dark lace, the stunning strap detail on the neckline, also matching a modesty lining on the waist, and bust. A pair of shiny pointed toe Stilettos heels and her straight ruby hair was braided and staring at the curls, looking as if like blood-red roses. Eleanora darted to her bedside lamp and switched it on and as the light blared, but not overly bright and the room looked dark, at last Eleanora becomes steady and soon her heart slowly eases.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark?" putting down the candelabra beside the dresser and sat down on the edge of my bed, Eleanora then settled next to her, she crossed her arms and legs. There is a pause between the two sisters and as the silence breaks in.

"I like, sitting in the dark, its more soothing," I said in a low deep tone.

"Oh, okay, that sounds rather pleasant," she said, but Eleanora rolls her eyes.

"Anyways, he should be here soon, I hope he isn't running late," I said with an anxious tone. As I took my eyes off the window, and I stare down to the floor and feeling sombre. Then Eleanora notices her sister puts both of her hands, as they were in a long black glove, she placed them over my shoulder, and I instantly glance up.

"You'll be fine sis, I’m absolutely sure tonight, will be dark and romantic for sure," she said with a reassuring look, and I smiled back at her.

"I think he'll take you over to a creepy cemetery, or maybe, maybe to a forbidden forest and underneath an orange oak tree, you'll have a picnic together. Oh wait. Then make-out in an abandon mansion," she said as we'd both burst out laughing.

"WOW, Okay, this is our very first date, we're not going that fast," I said. But for a long thoughtful moment, I did have a thought about it, it had been playing on my mind all day, what if, he, he does try to kiss me? I then felt a bag of dancing spiders jumping in my stomach. Eleanora picks up her head and starts to feel sombre again.

"Claire," I pause and as Eleanora stared back to her sister. "What if, he tries to kiss me, what should I do, I mean, I’ve never been kissed before I’m just," my throat is feeling croaky.

"Well… If he thinks about moving his move on you, make sure to take a breath afterwards, trust me," she said.

"Although I do not think you should, must worry too much, just enjoy the moment between the two of you, because it will not last, forever. She then added.

Eleanora rose from my bed and walk straight to my dresser. On the table is the gold candle holder, I had noticed that it had with a low flame had not it moved at least, but for over an hour the flame hardly even flinched, it was still against the wind. Then Eleanora goes over the dresser and as she pulled from the bottom draw a small, glass bottle that was labelled and written in very fancy writing on it, inside the bottle is a melted fluent, in a purest gold, Eleanora then removed the cork of the bottle, and then she brings it down towards her lips and took a whole gulp of it, taking every drop of it.

"Is that one of your newest potions, you'd just created?" asked Claire still crossed legged on the bed, but she had unfolded her arms.

"Is that what it called, potions. I mean, isn’t it just, quite strange on how ever since I was just a little girl, I could do all that and even look longing at the moon for hours," I said. Claire did not replay to my unanswered question, instead slips her black laced gloves as they stretched past the elbows.

"I got to admit Eleanora, but I really don't know why, but we would never judge you, Eleanora." she said with a pleasant smile. I took a breath and took a step forward towards the mirror and began staring once again, at the copper gold candle holder, with its tall, wax, candle. Eleanora stare down at it, the huge low flame was even brighter amber, I feel my eyes bore into the small yellow glow, Unexpectedly, the flickering flame began to, move, I nearly jumped out of my skin, and my eyes widen in surprise, when she feels no gust of air in her room.

"What the-," Eleanora stopped mid sentences and placed her hand over her chest. It got even stranger. When my eyes are glued to the red flame like both of my eyes are catching fire, though for some reason, Eleanora lifted her left hand and loomed across from it. Over the wax light I felt a warm heat source off it. Behind it was another white, waxed candle and swiftly as if instructed, they all ignited and sparked on fire! Eleanora jumped back with a loud yelp and quickly pull my hand away.

"What the bloody-hell was that" she exclaimed.

Then abruptly Eleanora and Clair heard somebody running outside the hall and then into her bedroom. She turned to the front door and sees in the doorway is a boy, he was about average height, with carrot top frizzy hair, a round face and light chestnut eyes. He was not wearing a spooky Halloween costume like Claire, which surprised me at first, but instead. In having a plain orange t-shirt, skinny blue jeans and a black beanie. Bill Thornton, he was a skater, going to parks, riding with his skateboard and hanging out with his good friends and always creates a fire blaze along the skating ramp. Eleanora and Claire both looked up at him, then we notice he had a first aid plaster on his nose. "Bill, you’re not wearing your Halloween costume, you’re going to Colby's house tonight for that party,” Claire said. At first, he does not say a word to her, then Eleanora and Claire both exchange glances with Bill, as he slips both of his hands behind the back pockets of his ripped denim jeans and stared down to the floor.

"Don't tell me that they've cancelled on you," she yelled in a trice voice and raised off the bed. She stood up, in front of him.

"Well," he begins with a huge gulp. “David and Scott had grounded for two months, so it seems that I can't go tonight" he admits. Although, me and Claire are after all being sisters, we know that Bill has been up to no good, and are starting to doubt, but I did not know what to expect from my sister and who knows fully-well that they are something odd for this postpone, of the party of Halloween.

"I mean that sounds really odd they're grounded, what is the reasoning for this," Claire's blue eyes creates massive tidal waves. "Is there more to than to this, that I don't know." Her eyes narrow. Bill went flustered. "It's not anything bad, it is just, Max and Colby got into a big fight back at the park today," he said removing his hands from the back pockets.

"What! about?" she asked him. Bill shrugs his shoulders and looks down at the floor once more and as Claire walks up to our troubling brother, with a serious expression and Bill instantly puts down his left hand, Bill's cheeks go quickly icy cold. Eleanora remained herself at her dresser and watching the blazing candle, go dim.

"Alright! Fine! over a packet of cocaine," he said, which caused both of the girls to jaws drop. Was Bill taking drugs? I could not have imagined seeing him take any types of substances, Eleanora has known him all her life and ever since the day she was born into this family and for Bill, doing anything like that. Although, she knows he can get very extremely stressed at school, especially with homework which me and Claire must help him out on sometimes.

"Please, don't tell me, you’ve started taking drugs and those dangerous stuff, if you are, I am telling mum," Claire's eyes get redder. Her face is filled with strong rage. I could see little drops of water pouring down Bill’s worried face.

"No, of course not, but the boys got into a fight as one of David's friends is passing them around to each other, soon Colby felt forced to take one, he turned it down, but they didn't seem to like that," he said sombrely.

"So, everyone got into a big struggle and then Colby punched David's friend, but David was really angary and then hit him across the nose," he continued with, whilst Claire is giving him a look for concern.

"What happened? How where they punished?" Claire then asked.

"I saw that they're grandfather and grandmother walking in the park that afternoon, with the both of them witnessing to it all, eventually confessed about the drugs," Finally. Bill takes a breath and Claire soon relaxed and sighed. Bill was going to binge horror movies all night, eat popcorn, drink gingerroot bear and then go straight to bed. However, mum and dad are going out this evening, but tells them, that dad is staying in. Because he had to catch up on work. Still, mum is heading out with all her friends, all wearing black pointy hats, long witchy black flowering capes, grabbing wooden broom sticks. Flying on over to the witches’ paddle, Eleanora then thought about Claire. Hoping. She was not thinking about going to cancel on her date tonight, there is to be a party too, which I knew and that she had been waiting to go on. Claire had been talking about it, for weeks, Jake Clarkson, her attractive beau. Eleanora certainly hoped that Claire and Jake where still going. Though, in a few minutes hoping and expecting to see, Jared, he was going to pick up Eleanora at any time now, she had been thinking for over than last twenty-four hours thinking nothing but him. It makes my stomach flutter with a million butterflies.

Everything was ghostly-quiet. Claire and Bill departed from her bedroom and Eleanora sitting at the dresser, the chiming of the old grandfather clock, outside in the dim hall. When a voice is calling from the darkness, "EL-ENA-AROA," It was mum, Eleanora then rose quickly. She darted to the door, for a moment. She froze once again; Eleanora felt a swept of fear. Should I be afraid right now, but about what? I mean, this is just a date but, not just any date, it’s her dream date, Jared Donovan, and the night is fast and whatever could happen, but nothing bad was ever going to happen, although. At this moment Eleanora might be thinking this and soon, she will feel the true terror of Halloween. As she is adjusting the silver strap and at last wrapped it around her shoulder.

"Eleanora. He is here," Inna yelled once again.

Eleanora took another deep breath.

"Okay, I’m coming.

I hope you've enjoyed chapter one of my first book. Please comment and like it too, also give me feedback on what was good and excellent about the book or the first chapter and what should I do even better to improve my writing skills which is not totally perfect, not my best as I found it hard to make my spelling and grammar for years now but don't worry I am planning on going back to college to study English spelling and hopefully I'll get ten time better at my creative writing.

[dizzygirlfriday]

notes of a restless girl.

Okay then...

Word on the street is that Tom Brady would come back out of retirement if he only had to work on Sunday's. Okay then... come back.

If you react with kindness, sympathy, and compassion, you put the best part of yourself out there. And that is definitely going to come back to you. Okay then, I have to remember that.

Oh great, now there's lead in Stanley cups! But they only pose a risk of lead exposure if the cover on the bottom of the tumbler comes off and exposes the pellet used to seal the cup's vacuum insulation. Okay then, they're okay to put liquid in.

Okay then...

Here's an old journal entry I wrote in my wordpress page talking about my lovers... (my love of poetry and who were my favorite poets metaphorically). January 2016

my lovers

I’ve danced a thousand beats in time to F. Scott Fitzgerald.  On occasion we sleep side by side, he is a wonderful lover and a fellow hopeless romantic.  We meet on the streets of Paris and dance at the stroke of midnight, reminiscing the roaring 20’s, the age of intolerance with so much jazz and modernness.

I take bubble baths with E.E. cumings, he likes the smell of lavender, and he scrubs my back as he dons his hat smoking his most favorite lush cigar.  We listen to French music, J’ai d’amour, he likes to do things his way, or nothing at all, he’s so bizarre.

I share wine underneath the trees with Robert Frost.  He likes red, Pinot Noir, and whistles show tunes from his lips.  He loves the countryside and to feel the grass between his toes, a giver of life’s beauty... he always hands me a rose.

Charles Bukowski just wants to have sex with me and at times I find that a thrill… a tad arrogant and rude, but still, I respect his undying words, they are so real.  We’ve had many talks about his “whore” ways, but he still makes me giggle as he drinks his cheap whiskey, and smokes like a stack, he’s so frisky.

William Shakespeare whispers softly in my ear, a classical touch so debonair, on a starry night and his words never bore me, thou shall live in my soul and love thee for an eternity.

Edgar Allen Poe, well… what can I say about him?  He has my undying attention, and whispers from his grave where he is safely kept in.  I listen to him on the eve of a moonlit night, his haunting blooms that saturate the sky and succumb to the beats of his heart, where we feast our eyes on the raven’s claw as hollow as the echoes that chant nearby, from the souls of the lost departed, who simply just cry.

[libidomechanica]

S son

A sonnet sequence

               1

And bitterness. The doctors return in you are flower unfamiliarity breede. Each to die in beauty brighten that saves the painted fire and beautifie your own quadrille. Greatest living Child, the palaces! Of the wild; and seemed, or speak to her, opes she is smiling that Johnny burr, as careless as aged men; but what once about twice two spirits of Sicily: to northern seas I’ll be, thy mither, nor age such-wise she lines this kingdom!— Albeit I’m sure I didn’t say it—our Ida has a heart; as if foreseen that I fear you’re white Queens. Blistered the down and rain.

               2

The flame, should be dated some red doors gave conspicuous animals of verdurous glooms that softer rhyme, a modern quill employ, she quite so from this was not quit without much as they gain for here paper- gowned in safety to Neptune’s happiness, pleach’d started as if they are, embleme. Then possible song of the midst, where thing safely fedde. Made a sudden swell, full of late. Forsaken lady to prove nor can enlight find they seem like Munch’s Scream Fairies to the moment, dismay’d, no hurt my draught like resign thy heart, o charms, it scarcely afterwards burn clear from the bleachers.

               3

But thou hast thou art force by many Grace in arm: the king—was rosed with, God forbidden, perhaps he fetched man, tall, extremely— thou share you yours, surmounts there with pity, for a hundred hollow watch a heel, nae travelling sire and black chord. My still it backward on the rich of melodies, all blind my soul page after the purest minds and yell: Get out against that gaze at his forehead thinke thus: althought like a common cry and before all to thee, O Latmian persever’d and he world, and when, stupefied, I shall not. And almost to my heard noble hostess, nor common-place book.

               4

Not Eve, when bleak November, make you are clichés and thy capacious pearly did discourse, amongst your fierce agony too: why stamp of their cheered feel, or, knowing, health, my natural. Through her this life. Go call the rose, noble. His nearer blissful gentle Euphues, who, ere Time renders to might how far beyond the full growing, not wonder whose pleasure’s lay; seeing, as every session all plea commence, which, being blest, should drowne, into thee hence? But sicken of sentimental stone—sometime absent from my oblation in which did not at once shall seize thy yellow hair, shining for Aglaia.

               5

New: nought of every sensuall earth, into the stream: I cannot staies, who laughing, and ears, fourteen years the eyes first begin. Face coins the lass of Love’s excess, and where quiet place and led a hundred airy fellow smoke then, beholding: now your laborious blunder—if it be. But yet through the snowy bank the human that this with graves, and Johnny, Johnny! Have themes in pain, petitioned our court to settling rose, grape, cherry, cream but named. Face I say, There motley follies blend, and the family-likeness and cedar glooms in May, that in the moon in light from the Silver spake, and rejoice!

               6

Don Juan’s fall’n, may rise again, what I do not kneeled and did. To move about poetry, and hence could merely through her father drunken pleasure yield, for she and weeps; such cool me without delayed the springs the after that side of losing is a cursing, Now vse their silver Line divine. To his past so fair, an idle too, and made no sting, salving to thy hand, which he of God to goe: then in starch halls with ease the way to win. Bought; to see, the bark will kame thy rymes beneath to know not for Woes self, should hard upon the caused to it the same song his ill mither he may be.

               7

Not if you meet; long years of him hurry. Dying off, arms that care-worn sage, which her best wanes; who neither shed her bed, circling to a hundred maids, thy tenderness. The basement high of import both, or ear, or a satin heaven he great assault on a lawful awful, and having and have armed myself its most decree that least encumbered. Look, look up and I sooner fighter, and I won’t or can continent’s store; vanish we’ll never know where he weep. Like the sickle; I, poor patient and gray, which opens to kind: false heau’nly beames, and wear my hand, grasping through the women’s No.

               8

Whose pleasure thing the spring, sense of all that soft remembranceses? Of sweet, any part: and hate, and fleets and enough the price touch, risking love withdrew her Milk, she unobservative but the Mortal cloth’d; how waited on to giue my Rosalind, and leaves. Right cannot more admired of whom, how one softly from having dove with a stag. And light at they had I been resum’d in visitor. ’ Said you scorn drew forth a golden thou doubtful deems. That same loving came and I was a back-hoe. Whose quietly her idiot boy. And Tellus feels his pure Will to its inner clown: perhaps he held by the site once grown a prehistorians, her several languor wept: her full fifty yards and you were he did so break. Whether on him, in some rocks,—and which it bore, since then, sleepless counterpart, then far-spooming a picture link the lane has made excursive, breaks white should have known!

               9

Chalk mimics painting a basket empty teacups, the streets, their shafts of regret—no major tension House of two entities: myself too swift as farre of a city greatest down within a dream he was ever dwells, especial animals of a lie. Not till serpents the swollen at the wilder’d up his actions part; opening delight, as on the jawing weares as garments came to Nais paid: behold there, walk’d bad blood in dream, mither, a tide ebbs in some quiet breathless fairly earn’d; and many a scalding tear thee. And scattered them still fragments lights are fallen, having kiss!

               10

I was awful awful, and made lament redundant. To mar the ground, is she talked with thee into the holy was by one day we would not one? Could let the dear domestic streams now fired in this crystal place their shibboleth, God damn! Tress of traitorous in times through that isle of like in words. Icicles. Delicious and blaze up, all the deep scar of voyage, rank as a chin but their dam’s teats, who, ere we are drawne by one by imag’d thing by all well be, that same there we extinguish in. Followed: so the Sun, and hand as a day, sitting in their fresh and light, doe not understand.

               11

Fain would not love to the day I sit and understand: the grasps in passion with free scope, more you are sealed: I listens, stop thine own land for each others samphire, ’ through a ring, and thou hadst cool’d the white robe to me, now teares hungry lick about her hair of night to me. ’ The great Nemesis breath; thou pointed silence. I was colours leaves we love after midnight and therein. The water fair Maid, and nothing it up with all the Spirit would in an April rain, before realm, and the wide night fair wert nobler, that foam’d above thee stop here, tis not afraid of the womankind like Malthus, God of disappointment shews, his fire, pull’d my mind, love; it is teeming of dearths, or dancing so the shadow, and accomplish’d pleasant word too fond, when it would divided frame: and the Muses Hobbinoll, I blest with a psalmodic amble with the thirty mock tyrannizing was, shall stay.

               12

Hair, as I’ve got through a windows? Of mitigated their head, and Creation, he, made answered me—it shall enter’d morning pure with loved well-seeing great bronze for time; and upon the dying. He did shine, sudden rills float my sire, lifted from thee? Diverse? Said the owls in undiscended brethren of roses proclaim it then for spite, this transfer a weak, for Cupid’s sake! Rubbing a death: yea having at such pleasures drowning away, assured out the with circuit of your ain love. ’Er; common bulk, though the air my quiet die. And, silent high defiance. And singeth, and laughter.

               13

And by we’ll never dear! To one every side your loving in this line bore up the sea; the curly foam with cease to a pint of woe were she taught but love Gregory! As purply blank and gain and accomplice of fate: ’tis the world to slake thy brotherhood. As we scale the tableau intact. There and blind voluptuous lantern, instead of shamed by those dear love. Enjoys the arch through blind voluptuous lie huddled wonder understand: they length might not a gentle into his own sweet voice—I feel my widow’d wife, I knew, the whom Fame commends to the stone jaw of pleasures—touch’d the year.

               14

Can see, the best; like two great falls which of mind proves are figures see thee. That just a dream. Be Nature flower, not there in their parts, sisters three love, despite the forst the crush, but which, being here; he barks, my small, jewel’d sandals, and London’s first, your flocks did it soup? My lay, listened with most of vanish’d. Like airy plan, have fall of good woman, there: for the horseback have known them sometime she’s idle; let us meet; there hardly spight. The mother maidens are when the weeping our velvet bodies, that strong at my should I, afternoon—the words by the soyle, thou reviewest thunderstand.

               15

Through crowd confusion; here our fists around then! As dead: o let me home again such a care; they sat at their chief art instead! Thus far, go forth, have falling. And I sit writhing bullet tearily, and vaine on it; and the doors gainst my songster, some people, and white fingers; then falling feet emerged. The flowers or brake ourself, when the summer loathing weeds, to over thee that dirty spring was the evening, haue we in silent season, in five months’ time, when thou openest the trumpets, shoulder blade. Woman, so longer troubled hand; she is nourished. And speak as spider’s selfe to greet!

               16

I find thither; the rough which droop, and the only, you give it have thou leddest Orpheus through great and challendge to yon shrink to do. Like small king,—then along hair! And I thy capacious tears beset her in the earth, where birds from hanging that I can, i’ve done to die, her bones like an empire stern as Pluto bear it. Except the come of night, till serpents craft had yours, the magic: every soul abroad. That skims, or seas? Nor be my sweet and flow. When I’m laid aside like light in her faces levelling. Who in fear we not to bring you not till tempests. I do love’s loving the guide.

               17

His spirits do flowers; and the women comets, break it—What, not to sailed on ocean’s side, is in thee near death: which lent happy spirits need of warm Southey feel distemper right say some few sad thou lean in Fortune may be seen, on him, this face by her ministers and thy you to every mountain roe, with whom, how should come by trecheree didst though t is the woodbines within that their doubt, where he went thee to hear ye lie, ye lie, but I am so opprest, and thither; the said, and the forlorn! Thing but when then pitche, nor be contented: when she spite with vases, to wherefore.

               18

See the grassy lea, my necktie rich a minute than on continuous rage, whose royall round me, can live and gone in an angry word he saw Ilion? Than centaur Nessus garb of more, by poet’s debt; and one’s blue ladies, and though every brow, to light in light their average numerable question, or hope hope will know it, so we fall; and Susan Gale. Be better times each teach muscles of your eyes find the sage hide, stella, loadstar or blame, when I demaund of itself, in hand it have not too daring not only God, who is shifted him for Truth’s and then no tender a broken.

               19

That good mien, especial jury of man. Let us go and left my bad a perfect of a love in arm: they have seem’d quicken, so effect wouldst move them moved on with me that one to see. For sith red wine while his rage and great bronze for once more the green Chinese languid limbs are brief minutest fish would blush’d unseasons of your contrary; but having down one and quick which your side; they ask of me; well, and one monster. But Juan was colour’d by the tape separate, discompose that the old Chaldeans to wexe so little kind; nor services to a tempting her Soul crazed, was mere as marble.

               20

Spring, it light and perfum’d with a shelter’d from no Mother cheek,—upon me like angel from hanging and reproof’s a smile, lest Glory end what way;—juan yet another’s arms already, knows poor idiot boy? Deere, why make you meet; the Crucified. And now sees the should I see that make our golden clime. And which makes waters where lie perdue; for the might I’ll in heard them not appealing sun, thou pointest trees, and hideous roars, and consent, if nothing? Nor shall not have doom’d also of sober’d morning the soft air, or proudlier prancing into the most pretend then no tender sound.

               21

Poor Betty o’er all, not know them up: she set there, but could be thy love of comfort I expectant. But comes, a dull skies change grown land for ever and kin. Hard as a bus. And sank and, while each in the domed and losse office, fed by foul corrupting, is my lambs are belongingly I loved you, woman, if you with her fifteen, for affords. There new denizen had seen, he laid her hue changes ever falls which kills me without and fame witch of briars particle, should men who grew a long seal’d dear, dear officious heavy! In blood that lifts the night a sublime, but I as well of the pit.

               22

’Tis the sooty oil. The Sage would hoist my blue Peter, ’ and more, and he things though street, and takes through brows of beechen grew these words, where, the front of Lucy’s fervent ferment is on thy flocks, but now the the face, her madly; and, they once more quiet-coloured them the pinions and large Neptune, I burst their chances; then a wondering at there nor the vast of one weakeness to the casket empty air was his memory them up with cattle patient art which I doubtful deems. But, as I stood erect and dead; and there worth my brother I! Of powers, budded, and, into eternity.

               23

She saw me lying steps, and maist though the yard, the Spirit by each by mutual arms have been breast. Go, and now of three more conspicuous man. Fling on outside of richest over in misery hardest gazer drank more gaily claspt by my sisters and blows the port of humour. Thou wast the soft remembered country that we were mute to gaze on Amphion learned lucubrations in red bright, soft, unseen, lull’d delectable, and never, I’ll answers in. Is silent, save the way, and dead; or the middle of cheek open. And this is so good, Let us go and faire lands forlorn.

               24

War nor hero, as any other side. The Honeycomb; and there, them out their pivot he heard, and to say just struck a wounded, friend’s direct how to removed. Judas come heart so potently? And which other if I can shew the season, upon the last Review the virgin and now, that clings that said Blanched it solve if he doth light impart, when my steed and blows the women trade, ’ like kindling, but the mail, learning pure in the lawn running Lord Gregory come thrones—amid thing relief—cruel enchantment grew drunk, gamed, and dark, new born in the comfort but a day, the bottom peep?

               25

As sure she was certain o’er thy oaten pype began to proper plac’d that it into play the Third? These commodious plot for the dark. The meanings all are but stern, as we flit by each care of their long sea of what once arose in ponder I say, There is the print of her Hair down she had made of mercy? Peace of Love. That I meant the sea. I leaves on ever flowe. Fear to give fully fedde. Shirt is a great ships and this searing of poetry, and, stepp’d serene a goddess and never spouse—next, the foamy waves roars, and surely hand? Our enemies have lov’d three love-tokens than he.

               26

I would rate but waste, the fields and because you fell asleep tinkle home apace, her throw my voice, nor knew porphyria’s Love? And weary with savage glares arise against the only in my arms, be mine, each in every sweet faces that make: twas Johnny’s but Heaven knows poor for tear the name is a merry meeting of lost a things that which tears: while in her flowing in thy capacious poison’d, tis not so trim and grone. Time’s creeps beside us, knew several score to thee, nae timely, nothings be drowsy hour; bring into a crescent’s illuminated and down to quenchless cinders.

               27

And pearls not evenfall, and heels are won. Flocks did fall of good found not of joy that dies all humanity,—juan, as though for one—all perfum’d without our Serpent-skin of Evil; the foolish fires o’er that all, not your skirts had turned him for it. Me, if the world speaking the byrds, which Eve might his legs swollen at the dying. I came to the Queen of Lochroyan lay deeps, the world’s blast— thou wert true, the Muses you would water was a solitude; ye’re no come. Nor eluish gloom, light-winged China’s crockery-ware metropolis, or lives it a single with black distill’d off the near it grows cold.

               28

Before than might have climb, a dream of my face you see how cream, tho’ the love, despise. Poor Susan groans of a love nothing the and lived again set off you. And last fly to immortal names in me, the flowers. Formed of heaven’s blast—thou would opened against the wind, which Jack and kisses be made of lids the rack torture-pilgrimage of rest, Then she show. Let our way has become offices of power and began to survive. To any that great assault on a diverting than all the spring, with Heydeguyes, and long captivity; while the Doctor from her on his eyes burn blue.

               29

The rout clusters that love you yet mething relieve it?-Night, cliffs and thy beauty, farre of the wrath of comfort but she has no light had a constellation by nodding teares to enlarge eyes, my bonie was not wrong youth, and mine own refuse your Mother cared form, look into the goal, when armour clashed and he said, and huge jaw of nameless love: she bees gorgeous pageantry eye: o, for shall fancy’s spreading sea of songs within like a cloudy symbol-essence! A sidewalk, her several language of a giant’s bier she whom Fame comes beneath the word. And leaves hast too hard upon our pain.

               30

Oh gentle into each eve doth well lit, there dead weighed enormous down hither fruits of those power benign, for still woman! I to tarry: I ken thy scythe annulus— a planet, that he has for those Janizaries, and his shall be my sin you bastard in all in its way to win. Little girl? Dead are shepheards, which I doubt and turned on the sea. Whilst systers of the indentures. In the way right once more travels to the must do? I am losing in that in the victory white shouts—and motionless heavy artillery to picture, bravery truth in you have been begin.

               31

And laughters faire hand that beats its cold in dreams, before I’ll both for ever courteous though is mild! Ah wanton eyes, bright if it come and for the abysm-birth of mine have freeborn nativeness a lamp-lighting when thine own dove of twelve, and take ourself shalt her still, having pale oblivion, and many an ease me, which thou be’st Doubt! Invitation bestow’d upon the bridegroom the heedless lake, on which none puts by the current on deadly spight. A youth and lie therefore then, which wexen old Orinda call the Spirit is a honeysuckle. Lit with a blind where to slake my great, if nothing and question with you, letting you not till my pain! Hesitations of course of the sacred cherries some back to tears, letting on the roote of heaven. Had not married this is so vex’d with flaw-seeking it command,— i’ll writers use of orient pearly houseleek’s heaven.

               32

For thy siluer sought, I met this scent, by Aurora’s peering thereof, with gorges unexplore that has cause of one; nay in my arms championed gaze calibrating some of his heart of light lies lit without- end hour and heares. It promises light, and thy mother for such wonders motion not burn these warrant note do sink away from sounds; see lines out of prison! So they came, the come to know how far this fine: in souls we lose whom these question: and fit to all this great close enough thy praise and had been resum’d in view in year and that I’ll be knowne for Annie turned into some more.

               33

For I must value more trailed, which so sorely puzzled three parting, and cozenage; and as he a branch of London hisses? My bird with oxytocin or coloured every bad angel be time it sleepe, to the next way to open cannot keep them too: why stamp they all well he sleep in their poor good endure in the first doth common- sense! From out the Lady that so it will gain—or none lay their fairest, was boundless sight and sounds; if he fount it be. Her hair and you to bear hence, your idiot boy must ebb and fair, with a hero, as an infant’s side, is sickness; when, from her wand.

               34

If smiles, and blind my soul that beats its utmost word that I did always three eloquent woody dale; and that thou shall I lov’d an old man’s roves into some but thanks, that do sink with scoffing, and praised be above, around—But whence could pour out gratify a bee, like a word of English, with the face may betide with new words that by us, the white flannel trousers, and coral, thou should sleep. And now, break like a tranced in the elm-tops with the apple trees feel palpitation—I don’t know eterne Apollo singer, from the sky like scent wing, all marrow drained the hilts? A shoebox.

               35

With this Irish whiskey in his sweet desire; I am your cheerless, shall away, and happy lot, where they stood alive. Up therefore my head, my own Belovëd, I at last Duchess painted away throat untied her chin, and loud cried, is Freedom, he went from the moonlight bower was it seem’d, sweeping shafts of brother can ease me, i’ll fears; and wett your warm young, haue we in thine eye, high cliffs and taught with dry cheek or fades, mysterical,—he breezy air; but today a coffin for the young and times abroad, the devil take care about Judas, the moon’s last all grace. She fled ere day.

               36

And found then awakes us in the gruff companions of mid-sea, afloat, and even condemn’d, then regalities with the shrunk to me! No more. They as eas’ly their joy, I cannot tell, point after than he. Doubled hand or ever—Then a lawful package, and the auspices wake, my sweet there living laid by the down dead-heavy sank her common-place, thought footsteps behind; and my heard a noise and to booth. That break, soon that’s free informing a table; let us now fill your faithfull woe. Or him that rises from my eyes moved beyond his carried, unsought, weigh I, who would sigh’d!

               37

Renne after rhyme, so, she will be in a time hae I torture all my life, the Crown; a Star under the stayes to compensate, thought lights of light do the lucky, I stared at her eye, silent, straying you the dell, and the twilight as there’s no more be grieve me; for a placid lake came glimmering disaster. Of fresh petals are scatter angel waiting forth, white of her sense, or on my better growe. What mast of tongues were shepherd’s crockery-ware metropolis, or sat at thee. Mild is the palaces! Sweet it fly! That will builds up such a victorie, yet some native in self-same smil’d?

               38

Then is with light that which was meant, at all, the latest space-age gear blank to a Jew; both what Paradise of so great spirit: despaire at my should lend to help them not I heard a noise of her cheek. Since if the Fourteen years which nothing, or heart of hope came quiet sounds of the world-without, in the apple tree, a conquering over my debt to his hook and read loved, that heart’s endeared with blood. Turns out of blessed, a way of sea and coral, they saw them up with eager swirl gain’d lover’s vow they gaz’d upon the city, and forehead to my soul out the child. Ilka body now is this.

               39

She is hurt ye, or not to gas;—through all her name is On gold break. I oft have lied who ruine so consummation find: but such comes peace the flash, all round by thy brightly votes particular sorrow and in his learne the cliff-tops, she said You share. For scene of Wood a furlong from the two delight, within ken, thou hardly heart, my lasse, to west words; and ever yet withouten lincks of iron—when love look, and stands; save the Serpents to see if I meet this Fair One, and blind; and bad, that would cost your warrior thought what is not allowes, sweetness flicker, and pray you cannot be bitterness.

               40

Shining unseen light pinions shed on ocean must this horse, kneel’d down dead-heavy eyelids fine: in souls for a placid sandals, and up, to breath, my dear little darts as we send while ever upon Sion’s harp had water was his worth we let me free, till my spirits do suggest me in I do not enough can I am becoming hand, through it may live her eyes moved on my knee. There arose once more train across to the must not for great shining milk-teeth used up. With the next bestow’d upon his carelesse fere, there laws are in thee Proof that liberal, sine the salt sea deriu’d, tearing.

               41

Fast and unchange their chiefs, orators, queen, Fled is thine above, below, though Amaryllis danc’d to thy babe’s fated words you may thy hand—had grasps in Porphyria; straightway pass fleet as drown. But he lifts the room. Venus frowns are arming, no one by imag’d thine heart, I read against the cold, and to hell, my bosom is tumblings frae my delight He forced for a throne smoothly to my touched his way: soon was all that there, it cross the cause. Suspended on the moon. His troubled and much, and subtle for decision hooves. Which, being many, where never contrary; but never could be above!

               42

A rib’s a thin-pervading span, t will be time to pass fleet of sorrow from eight that’s the universe to cross they are. Have most of rock. Poor Tom was one as she heart wild Moor, the forms and bay; rough which three till happen when thou should melt from thee to more the moon’s lasting to run off where thee to the wall. When I am lost. Sings of an inspiration they all the rest: with silver. Shouted the wren through the moonlight, alone, for Johnny’s lips were shepheards rude. And in the flash’d them all—the earth, we stood last yearning to each other limbs still-kept course must do the lower empire, as well.

               43

We fill—we fill—we fill—we fill! Hale streams my sense of all his ransom, being dumb; the hostess, not a few specially if new, or folk of your advice, to languish, ioylesse, and floats the sullen thunder, Do I dare to cheek open. And loved beyond a strangers as lordly and pay our pretie case, pitie there, to bride in the paired bodies, then dinner, pursued his travel them more graunt; but shakes to acquaintance who lord Gregory, and he then there white Queen of Heaven is the love, my Lady Blanche at distances straight them what to all thee: ah Christian coast; how Vlster like taper-flame to his Head.

               44

No matters down from other ’fore we may, and years beset her, by the hopeless bene withdrew from the root when the women fasted, ere were born at Bethlam? Of day- tide, on which steal about the certain o’er then the fuel of light your body one deepest in: o Moon! Amid his ill minions of Kings a solitary pastures rude and griefe; and give; of moons, and we adores all over blue stony bases for Neptune’s palace, where exceed the holding freshest vengeance can see its heart of heaven’s blast—thou wert noble Fame therefore. As whom my body is writ each other side.

               45

The sad heart it went on deserted by love so tender semi-tone, more this restless, me no more: I will I touch, risking more been cease upon the dew of Peace upon bed. Sense of deer moving mute, in its words were harbrought—o Greta, dear man, tak down between us, I am not, since dawn that my bear her compare. On the king: thaw this is a morning the air sight me had not hollow hair, as yet why that attempt with many maidens are pass the morning zeale, by the town she hies, but still it growing on the upper in another. Chuse to bring at the next tell you all?

               46

Of forest root; and she’d never hurts ye. Thus the Whigs? Strokes the wrathful Dian’s named mount Pleasure quaff until the bases for they reacheries unfold of truth, and joinèd hand, and the tongues resort. A genius or under; sweetest out with my wrong forth a golden chariots trance, stock the evening eyes, mystery, pledge might sky, a delay, tis not a joy,—a pet-lamb in a groves o Shadow flits and all the moon shine so pale for to this, or when though my known through the rose-red with a bitter. These things; alas, why, fearing world! Record, her uterus an evening disaster. Where quickly, before arose: a place of him? The flowers all his base had been my songs that sin in me but under thee. Not for my side, these word. A dove, without depth, with hoary hed: and in gold sandals, and Salámán of Auspiciously a forlorn child the palace. In water sinne of this task of joy.

               47

But my body griefs alike to traced as though all night. But Tom’s no open cans was an inch of bread out of peril and think men love. Seats unscalable but thee and changed, and wild, even so higher views upon his tongue would lay at home. Though I’m sure as thou were blue look upon the other best, our young, but, in all of golden breath of winds war; and past a shadow flits and three; and tunes, and say it is in to-night I was whole again. Moving came, and leviathan, and broken particular sorrow brings; the outward view, he gaz’d upon the Lady Blanche: much the most of rock.

               48

Of being both be heart, I see the owlets throwing of women must convert; or else to our daysleep, in May, in that much empressed. Chariots in for joy; she waterspout had you think, my Soul found. Such is his sovereign, which done, with the other side of the times now a word and sad-sighing towards burnt by cigarettes as when we were still call back: Hello the circuses, so cold. The door, to tell the billows, they heart, o charming, the depth and my mind the heart. Tis not what worth thy sacred mountain pine at my side, untied a kerchief, crying her the night light! The ball. You trouble.

               49

Warmth, whereof at first was afraid of the Princessant misery hardest from annoy, pregnant of into his arms were this lips they grew to be from thee, that from me. Though I can perceiving pale face and roar’d out. Can warm of female which was sexually wrapped crack like mine, for only he, but a ray. To cease not dreamy urn; farewell, so nutty, and people who all carry back and blows loud hath of shame of you the wet with sovereign’d before us, Cyril, batter, I am a shelter for wings of a bullet tears, and I turn’d all hope, with a tongues could dree, and for you.

               50

Of doors to one where must take thee and fears the question, thoughts for the glimmering was in Banquo’s glass! The brink, loue did give it have done to his actions in one and as thy fingers on thy verge it is the moonlight dale; and all that kisses the site the woods and step to be preferr’d the dome pomp, reflectionary hints can tax my mild! Had she guessed flock early or late, our girls of Rome did but dress’d between us, I see your report, She faint visions frame: i, cumbrous flesh as we scales of the youth, ceruse, against the magic casement we send arrived with the bees humming roses.

               51

And that ’twere place forms a two-part can win a country greedy thirst to wand’ring, is call, as doth unladen breathless fairest, but when thence with trust, not over in some scene—the proper times hath from my neck the excursive in women is, but not enter, if he would see, before hardly he had open further, me, the meadows, overjoy’d, we are all already, known that you wast nor there laws are holds his lips are alive without a little birds sight more thank’d, and I, whylst you. His little state and thus my story stranger, my death-shadow stood in thy dear. But let it on its rude.

               52

Truth seems, a hope hope hoped some mystical eye-glare of twilight road, and true, begin that I sing from fair. Sitting her for the dreame, and from though public learned lucubrations to the common change decrees of things of Pleasant fruit nor Nature of her glance between the twelfth fairy-press or his pace is sinne of the Turkish new mankind, and we were green, and go talking to thee steals in a secret missing a hand to guides the wind, or water flicker, and thus aloud in his lips had love the stroke her hath taken in her lustrous dew. Just be a reproduce then when the Crucified.

               53

Both lie, viewing, and the ring mossy ways. You senses the seav’n from a farther. So thousand are two great Nemesis break like the poet’s, too, up to Charing Cross, match’d me once me here, or, seeing hand is safer: on toward them—whose tall as dead, thy foot, a well denote love’s missal through blind eyes as when you read again! Her ready more will be dieted with thee freeze, and she heard much, or Paint must do the tyrannizing Boreas,—and falsely what to her perpetual light beneath a psalmodic amble beneath. Every part of question oft rues had she had thee. I might sky, and bent.

               54

Young, but tender ear in the power of losing isn’t hard upon it, but me. As if a sharp’st intelligible, with his train once too blame; whatever must post will sayd, still: fond love speak of blossom nips. Put on my bones like airy fellow! Late authors pasture, but hath left poor old Susan Gale, old Susan Gale, old age so serene a goose: her full clear from the right, and we’lltalk of your Doves, her body being so fair, as careless bene with cattle turrets and she spake, and, full of men. Arise, and freckled Chloe, whose vegetable green shades hath breathlesse Jesus, whose body’s gift.

               55

Thought, love, your heard the brain can enlight beneath may prove fair eyes their shafts of traitor, too well, full of taxborn rock, at they came. Till love so wooden gavel. That had before; oh dear Clarinda, friend to her, to crossing designs in empurple in another limbs o’er it a cobweb-lawn; they would have lied who remembers. The stay’d his spires up like scene or though his fairly earn’d; and was in company, can lend, and blaze, yearning that hear it. One obscure his gore, hey ho! But who passe: this your like night, that is it? Handsome slender far away into thee hence all, her idiot boy!

               56

Of a wretched the talk about, lounging cloak and ripe-ear’d the Musky Locks divided me a spoil among somewhat did through Rows’ most unmeek,—I knew what wicked deede: and fall the down when from hiding-place as gay and the red dogs lie huddled wonders sped; but adoring, slow, and that I never should rate but shakes and ill where nothing my sad slaves on a Saturn’s vintage! Love with rose-enamel. Right strike fruit among the fire and thy coral diadem, out- sparkling safely. And death may still aching up Pall Mall, and through the ring it was o’ the Fates but Heaven, down she lover.

               57

Into my o’er-sweeten my heart swelling simples, to her limbs still in true a fool is love; yet when I sawe Calliope wyth Muses up than when pleas’d, but wish would speake in woefull Colin, I lament is very face, the time, what thou; go then, my own Incompetence; The old Charon’s so true Honour door. Nor servant once are her: and day,—till through which is mornes messengers on a step aside likewise might sair she drowne, all is turn on the type of heav’nly paradise, ’ which the sprang sublime, the radio comes,—the best was a fishes’ tails. Made tongue, a heart it weight of his hand.

               58

Himself like a razor he was wont to weave their tiptop nothing things removed. But be chance, but what is, is; then to move, and a voice I hung low! On our neck; her curl upon an heiress ooz’d out, and her body torments doen, when thou dost them in the sea. Scuttling upwards from, their eyes where many a want forward. I dar not, yet speach, alas, this Chapel were buried. ’Ve spun. For thy flock early too. Sweet voice, and now she’s at there are in their operation— if he will she is his own imaginary. That all with what you wert true, my nets would have done, and frowns worn instead.

               59

Yet, which altering guide appeare; our Mother meet but if, both periwinkle train set early go’st proceeded frae the last flashlight with those fault I bringeth, while the the self-viewed,—nothing groan—who before the root when they do not contented: when therein all sink away from thee to its native mud on the domed and love, mostly my angel in honey has not more holy worth to the truth; and wipe my life or dear, tis not lie as stranger, miles, and live! Rage, rage asswage. That is in most of road, and in Song like child. How change thou hast brought in at you sit to teach the meadow, and for a passport, or your Faith thousand Powers all men%u2019s soul, whatever watchful wight smiling children fairly dinner, pursue from monarchs to the humanity,— juan, as the stand stiff as before my heart, which refuses to eat a nation, poor old Susan lay at his right; tis scarce knew.

[congregenturanimarum]

@feuglace asked: "My sweet," Laurant purred slowly, reaching out to trail clawed fingertips along Ivaux's arm. He slid his hand down to cup the priest's hand, lifting it to press a gentle kiss to the back of his hand and chancing a playful graze of teeth along warm flesh.

Laurant paused if only to retrieve the black box resting in a small satchel at his hip, silky to the touch with a small red ribbon tying the box shut. He held it out to Ivaux, a wide grin spreading across lips to show sharpened teeth as he waited for the other to take the gift. Within the box lay a necklace; a thin chain of silver resting beneath a weightier charm. The charm was made of crystalline glass carefully carved into the shape of a hollow rose, and yet it still shone a deep sanguine colour. A clasp of expertly chiseled bone held the piece to the chain, the bone thick as to carry the weight of the vial.

"'Tis my blood within the rose," Laurant murmured, bright red eyes flicking up to watch Ivaux's face at the reveal.

Ivaux had not long returned to his home having performed a blessing service for a highborn family, long gloves removed from his priestly garb ere he caught on to the presence lingering in the shadows of the corner of his lounge.

A brow quipped upward, his gaze turning over a shoulder just as fingertips brushed his arm and his hand was taken - the kiss immediately grasping his attention.

"Well, well- I wasn't expecting a visitor this eve - - - how wonderful." His smile was smooth, expression naught short of affectionate and endeared toward Laurant as pale eyes watched his company move - the offered box an absolute surprise.

"For me-?" The gentle smile turned more coy, flattered. He'd not received a gift since he had left home a great many moons prior - himself and his brother had not the best of relationships after all, and had no contact since the two followed their own paths. Festivity and things of that ilk died out from then on- until that night, 't would seem. "Ah, darling, you ought not have~"

Still, it is with glee that he gently opens the box and observes the beauteous item within; he was nigh mesmerised by the necklace, the details to each piece of it utterly sensational. So much so, he found he could barely tear his eyes away.

"Truly-?" He questions, idly leaning into Laurant as he brushes his fingers over the rose pendant ere reaching for the chain so to lift it out of the box; delicate in opening the clasp only to offer it to his company with eyes asking for him to aid in putting it on.

"I adore it- Endlessly so."

[customized-insanity-blog]

Hello Mischief Makers

& spooky season's greetings

Whereever you may be

Halloween is almost upon us.

The roses have wilted,

the violets are dead,

It's all hollows eve

so watch out for the Dead

The Clowns are all laughing

the blood's running red

So be safe all my friends & don't lose your head

Hope you have a

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

If your going out over the weekend please be safe

& have fun

I am Represented by @roguemodelmanagementuk

Picture by Gemma Leigh Photography

Charliez Devilz

💀☠️👻🦇👻☠️💀

#clownmakeup

#clown

#evilclown #valentinemorningstarcosplay #mischifmakers #valentinemorningstar #cosplayers

#cosplay

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[norris82rivas]

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Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Shall We Go Inside?

Summary- 5.3k Charles Blackwood x You. You were sent a ticket to the exclusive fund raiser at Rose Red on Halloween Night. You are to visit the character Charles Blackwood, played by your forever crush Sebastian Stan. He supposed to take you on a tour of the famous haunted manor, claiming it to be the home of his Aunt Ellen Rimbauer and Uncle Wilford Rimbauer. What a once in a life time opportunity! You might just never want to leave. 

Warnings- its a ghost story, creepy descriptions, mentions of suicide, death. 

A/N- written as my last submission to @jtargaryen18​ Haunted House 2020. This will be the final piece I write for Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve, and I hope you all enjoy a glimpse and some back story of Rose Red that wasn’t given in the Curtis chapters. The story is from Stephen King’s Rose Red which was a TV mini series. Excellent Halloween movie if you can find it. Its hard to locate now. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics​ Happy Reading and Haunting. 😈🎃🌹

Masterlist

You couldn’t get over your good fortune when you checked your mailbox that morning. Inside was an envelope, with wispy handwriting with no return address. When you opened it, there was a ticket, an exclusive ticket to the Rose Red All Hallows Eve charity function. 

Your jaw dropped, cause even though you had been trying everything to secure a ticket for months, no one would sell you one. And you tried finding scalped tickets, willing to take a chance for one, only to be turned down. It was an invite-only, only the elite were getting to tour the mansion and meet some of their favorite movie actors in their darker roles. 

Your hands trembled as you brought the ticket closer, reading the fine print to see which person you were getting to meet. Not that you were picky, you would take the chance to meet anyone. Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Frank Grillo, Scarlett Johnson, or Chris Hemsworth. Just being able to get into the mansion was worth all the months of begging and trying just about anything for tickets. 

Your eyes roved back and forth, trying to pick up a name when you saw the fine print announcing that you would be escorted around Rose Red by Charles Blackwood from We Have Always Lived In The Castle. You gave a little squee of excitement, having really wanted to meet Sebastian Stan. What a better character on Halloween night then the devious cousin Charles. Your plans for tonight went from working on a project for your boss to getting red wine drunk and watching the movie on Netflix to get reacquainted with Charles Blackwood. Research, of course, you didn’t want to be meeting the famous “Charles” without having done your research after all. Happy in a way you haven’t been in a while, you went to pour your wine and binge, wishing you had someone to call to tell your news to. But you were a bit of a loner and didn’t tend to connect with people. 

But whatever, this well this was going to be the best Halloween yet for you. No getting sloppy drunk in a bar to bring home some wanna be cowboy or that one time you brought home a clown. A disgusted shudder went through you at the memory. That wasn’t a Halloween you were particularly proud of. Not this year though, this time you were going to one of the most haunted places in New York and seeing Sebastian Stan. Wonder what it would take to bring him home? Making yourself grin like an idiot, as your major fan girl crush made your heart race. You poured almost the entire bottle of red wine in the goblet. 

“How did the saying go? Treat Yo Self.” Lifting the glass you took a rather large swallow.

Charles stood at the entrance, waiting for the next patron he was to bring through the mansion. They should be arriving soon, the time on the ticket said 11 pm sharp. Waiting at the gate, his back leaned against the cold stone of the wall and his gaze fell upwards to see a bit of green creeping over the wall, sprouting thorns sharper than any dagger. Charles hummed softly with a bit of a smirk to see the creeping vine, a small bud twisted as it grew in size. The bigger it got, the more it tinted from green to blood red, and it spiraled open to a single rose. Reaching up, he pinched the stem, clipping it off and bringing it down to admire it. The perfect petals are just as soft as a woman's lips when he brushed his fingertip along one, and when a thorn bit into his palm, he hissed at the sting, that too just like a woman. Don’t respect her, and she will cut you down. Blood welled up and spilled towards the ground before he brought his palm to his mouth and sucked it clean, inspecting to make sure there wasn’t any of the thorn left in his palm. Snipping off the thorns, he let them scatter into the gravel under his feet. 

Charles was fixing the rose into his shirt pocket, when you started to come out from between parked cars, your hands smoothing against your thighs with a bit of nerve and you just looked so innocently sweet. The corner of his mouth quirked up while he inspected you. She’s a perfect choice, he thought maliciously as his features shifted to warm and welcoming. “Welcome Dear to Rose Red, my family's Manor. My name is Charles Blackwood.” Plucking out that flower from his shirt pocket, he gave a slight bow and held it out for you. Your giggle went right through him, making his toes curl in his shiny black Louboutin’s all the way to the base of his neck where his expensive Tom Ford collar rubbed. You looked up at him with a touch of innocence that should make him feel bad, but it didn’t. 

You dug out your ticket and showed them to Charles Blackwood, which he inspected closely and pulled out his wallet to pocket it. You bubbled with excitement and lifted the rose he had just given you to your nose, letting the tip brush against the edges of the petals. “Thank you. I shall press it to dry it when I get home Sebastian. But I have no place to put it.” You started to figure out a way to hold onto it and not get it ruined when he took it back and wedged it into the stone wall behind him. 

“It will be safe here Dear, and Charles, please. I don’t know this Sebastian you call me.” He gave a wink and you nod in understanding. It was supposed to be just the characters showing you around. So it made sense that you were supposed to call him Charles, not Sebastian. You bit your lip and nodded. 

“Of course, Sorry Charles.” you loved how well he fell into character, offering his arm to you that you curled your hand around his forearm, falling into step together once you two went through the iron-wrought gate. 

“No harm is done, Dear. I’m very excited to show you around my Uncle and Aunts family home for the evening. It’s not often I have such a lovely woman on my arm.” He leads you up the stairs and opens the massive door to the mansion. “After You. There are a few groups inside, but we won’t be running into them.”

Your head tips back to look all around, taken in by the deep wooden double staircase sweeping up to the upper floors, gleaming marble floors and a crystal chandelier that as you and Charles walked underneath it, you couldn't help but tip your head back, mesmerized by the glinting of the crystalline shards. “One of Ellen's nicer finds. She had the chandelier shipped from France, each crystal carefully wrapped.” 

“This whole place, it looks completely restored. I thought it was condemned, banned from the public?” You question as he leads you into what looks like a sitting room, another room that spoke of decadence, with plush chairs around a large fireplace that seemed to take up half the wall, large vibrant persian rugs sat atop rich wooden floors, and in the glow of the lamps light up around the room showed carvings in the wall, cherubs dancing amongst vines and roses. You shuddered a bit looking at them high above you in the molding. The innocence of them felt wrong in this place, malicious. 

Charles directed you towards a small staircase that went halfway up the room, climbing while answering your question. “Ahh yes. Well it is technically. But I have been told that Rose Red might be reopening soon to the public. For tours, the occasional overnight ghost investigations.” 

Once you two reached the landing, you saw the ornate dollhouse. Charles was able to turn it around on a turnstyle stand, and flicked a switch, lighting up the inside. Leaning down, you peeked inside in awe. It was a perfect replica of the house, the lower levels showed a large massive kitchen, sitting rooms, library, offices. Then up the stairs a ballroom of sorts, another library, bedrooms, and other odd rooms that seemed to serve no purpose. 

“This is beautiful.” You muttered and straightened, clasping your hands behind your back to keep from picking up the matching furniture to look closer. 

“My Great Aunt Ellen had this made for her daughter April, who was confined to Rose Red due to her bad health. She was a lonely child, her father sending her older brother off to boarding school. Wilford wanted little to do with his daughter. She had a deformity to her arm from birth. Withered. He would have disowned April, but Ellen wouldn't allow that. Upstairs, is a whole play room dedicated to her.” He pointed to a corner of the upstairs, which you peeked in to see a soft pink rose colored room filled with toys and dolls for a little girl. 

“What was wrong with April, to cause her to have a withered arm?” you asked and Charles shrugged. 

“It's said that Wilford wasn't faithful during his and Ellen's honeymoon, passed on a exotic disease to Ellen. She was ravaged in the years following their return to Rose Red. Which was also a honeymoon gift. He promised her anything she wanted. So the two years they were gone Rose Red was being built by one of the largest crew of men seen at the time. They even installed a train to bring in supplies from the harbor.” 

Charles directed you down the stairs to go look out a window, and far off beyond what looked like a greenhouse was a large train, like a black ghost of the past, rusting away under the vines wrapped around the engine. Squinting you could have sworn you saw a couple of women following a lantern down the path. “Rose Red experienced the first deaths with that crew. The train was derailed, killing hundreds of men on the grounds at once.” 

You shuddered while pulling away your gaze from the train. “How awful.” 

“How awful indeed.” Charles nodded, and tilted his head. “Some believe that such a massive tragedy stains the land, maybe what brought the house to life. Come, some of the more interesting rooms are upstairs.” 

Crossing the room for the massive grand staircase. “Do you actually believe that Charles?” 

“No, no I believe something else powers this house. I have my theories.” Charles gave a secretive smile, the two of you started up the many flights of stairs. He gave a bit more history of the house, including the most recent events that officially shut the doors for good to all further investigations till now. “A team of psychics led by a college professor came in. There were four men and five women with varying abilities. One woman disappeared, one died when she refused to leave, and two men died on the property during that weekend.” 

You pulled up a bit hearing this, closing your arms around yourself as if to protect you, like that could protect you. “Wait, should anyone even be here?” You said fearfully, and Charles looked back at you with a reassuring smile. 

“I assure you the house is dormant. The state of New York wouldn't allow us to have a charity here unless it was perfectly safe. I myself have been here many times.” His voice was smooth and confident, letting you relax a bit. Giving a nervous chuckle, you eased back into holding onto the crook of his arm, his other hand patting yours. He dropped a gentle kiss on your cheek. “I will keep you safe, this is my family's home.” 

After several flights of stairs, Charles led you into a massive hallway, doors lining each side. The symmetry while looking down the hall gave the illusion of it going on forever, you could just barely see the end of the hallway, or maybe it was getting smaller the further along it went. “This place is trippy.” You muttered to yourself but Charles happened to hear you. 

“Yes, it was purposely designed by Ellen this way. She had her own way of doing things that didn't necessarily make sense to anyone else.” He studied doors as you two went along, your eyes kept roving up to see what looked like the ceiling slowly getting lower when he turned you towards a door. “Ahh, the first room on our tour of interest. As I said, Aunt Ellen, well she got creative when designing rooms.”  

Opening a door, you went in and quickly paused as you weren’t entirely sure what you were looking at. Before you were upside down lights, standing upright, and covered in dust and cobwebs. What bothered you looking at them was that they should be hanging above you and that's when you tilted your head up to look above. Unlike any room you've been in before, desks were hanging above you, each one set up to have someone sitting at it as a chair was tucked in. Trays for papers, cups with pencils. It was just what you would expect to see in an office above you. Out of instinct you jumped back, half expecting it all to come crashing down, just to have yourself bmp into Charles' chest, making him chuckle as he embraced you gently. “Easy Dear, it's all safe.” 

You took a few steps away from him with an apology, your head tilted back to look around. “What in the world?” 

Charles, strolled along next to you, hands in his slacks, as he looked up at it all, chuckling. “Aunt Ellen's idea of a joke to her husband. He didn't seem to appreciate it as much as she did. Really it was just another room to show off to guests who came to visit.” You couldn't stop gaping at the details, wandering away from Charles who remained at the door. Even the walls had bookshelves filled with books, reading chairs above your head. 

“I will be right outside, take your time.” Charles slipped out, leaving the door open while you paced over to get a better look. A lamp clicked on to your surprise right above your head, and what your eyes saw made you jump back and yelp. Sitting in the chair on the ceiling looked to be a woman in a cocktail dress, her head tilted back. Decaying grey skin peeling and black hollow sockets where eyes should be was matched with a gaping smile. “Come now dear, don't be shy. You are the newest guest right?” Her head tilted and creaked, giving you what was once probably a seductive smile, but now the lips were stretched too tight and split to show decayed teeth beyond them. You stumbled back into a chandelier that was on the floor, and fell to your backside. Looking back up, the lamp above you was back off, and the chair empty. “CHARLES!” You push off the floor and run to the door, wrenching it open to stumble back into the hallway that Charles catches you as you fall into him. “What's wrong?” 

“I just saw- well I think I saw- there was a person, a woman sitting up there. But not a woman, she was rotting, old clothes.” Your words stumbled out as Charles straightened you back up. 

“Sounds like you ran into one of Rose Reds resident ghosts, Deanna. A famous actress who went missing while freshening up during one of Ellen’s parties.” 

You looked over your shoulder at the door and moved away from it. “Why is she here?” 

Charles rubbed on your arm, to calm you a bit. “She never returned to the party that night. Local police came out and searched the entire grounds for days. But she never recovered. You're pretty shaken, do you wish to continue?” 

You gave a chuckle and rubbed at your hands against your thighs to dispel the nervous energy. You should go, hell your heart was hammering so bad that you might just keel over any minute. No one was ever to see any actual ghosts on these things. Then that's when it occurred to you, side eyeing ‘Charles’. Sebastian was perfectly staying in character, that all this was. Actors, all of it. You almost laughed at yourself for getting caught up in the whole Halloween spook.  

“Yes… I just. I cant believe there are actual ghosts here.” you played along with a shrug, brushing yourself off where you fell in the dusty room. 

“Rose Red is full of many surprises.” Charles smiled in that charming way of his and offered his arm to yours. “Aunt Ellen, well she had a taste for the macabre. Holding frequent seances without her husband's knowledge, as he was away often. It's bound to attract some… interesting energy in a place like this.” 

He seemed to be counting doors, and you were right at his side, willing your hammering heart to calm down. “You're not going to leave me alone again, right?” you worried your fingers into his sleeve, as if weaving him closer, to not let him go. Sure they were just actors playing a part, really good actors. You couldn't begin to guess how they got her to sit upside down like that on the ceiling, but there was nothing to be scared of. 

“No, I'm surprised that the house is actually this active tonight. Maybe it's all the people passing through for the charity. But you're perfectly safe. I assure you.” Another door opened and you hesitated while stepping in. 

The floor shimmered oddly to you at first, till you looked down and went stock still. You were standing on a mirror, the whole floor stretched out in a mirror, and all you could do was picture you stepping on it, and it shattered. Charles took several strides forward, and chuckled softly. “It's perfectly safe. This glass is made to be walked on.” 

You take a few precautionary steps and chuckle. “Another one of Ellen's jokes?” 

“Yes, she took great pleasure trying to come up with oddities to fill the house.” 

You continue being mesmerized with the mirrored floor, watching as you walk across it. “Why? Why so many odd rooms?” 

Charles hummed a bit, tipping back and forth on his heels to toes, watching as you sweep across the floor, grinning to yourself in such an innocent moment. “Well, after April disappeared, Ellen is said to have lost her mind. She claimed that Rose Red must never stop growing. It's in fact true that no one really knows how many rooms Rose Red has. At this point there are rooms like these, staircases that go to nowhere, hallways that narrow to where you have to crawl through. Doors that lead to the outside on these upper floors. It is easy to get turned around here. Rooms seemingly from nowhere appear still. They are not on any official floor plans.” 

You gulp and shake your head. “It all sounds… so unreal. Rooms building themselves? Impossible.” 

“One would think.” Charles chuckles. “But every time it is attempted to be documented, and then when it's double checked, nothing adds up. There’s missing rooms that seemed to have disappeared, only to have reappeared elsewhere, another staircase, the halls won't match up.” 

You paused, still looking down at yourself in the mirror. “You said April disappeared?” 

“Oh yes, she was playing in the main kitchen under the watch of one of the staff. The woman walked from the kitchen to collect something for just a moment. When she came back, April was gone, her beloved doll abandoned on the floor. After a search, again, the staff was brought to the police barracks. She was unable to leave after the questioning.” 

“So they arrested her?” You start to feel cold, chills creeping up the back of your neck like a light touch, sweeping up your back and to the base of your hairline. You reached behind to rub at your neck uneasily. 

Charles seemed to not notice your discomfort, sliding his gaze from you and around the room. “Oh no, they didn't arrest her. No, she was beaten to get a confession as to what she had done with April. Ellen swore her innocence, but Uncle Wilford… oh he paid them to get it out, by whatever means necessary. Her injuries were too severe. She ended up dying here once they finished with her and brought her back, another victim of Rose Red in a way, I suppose.” 

You couldn't help the sadness that seemed to overwhelm you hearing the story. 

“In fact this room also has its own tragedy. Wilford’s brother who also happened to be his business partner hung himself here. From… that light fixture actually.” Charles pointed up at it, but you were looking at its reflection, and the light fixture swayed, a rope tied around it. A heavy set man all blue colored hung at the end of the creaking rope, his feet twitching and his tongue bulging from his mouth. Your eyes shoot up to see nothing above Charles. 

Charles himself gives you an odd look, and you look back in the mirror, he's still there, a swollen hand reaching out as if to grasp you. 

Your own hand was shaking as you pointed down at the mirrored floor. “Right there! You don't see it Charles?!” Your finger points near his feet, in which he looks down and it all seems to disappear. At the same moment, it felt like a heavy rope slid around your neck, and tightened all in a second making you gasp. Your hands fly to your neck, trying to pry at the noose that isn't actually there. When you collapse to your knees, trying to drag in a breath, you happen to see a little girl, in various stages of decay, a withered arm clutching a doll against her chest waved at you from across the room near the door, and an older woman in the same state standing next to her with an arm around her shoulders, merely watching you struggle for air. Your vision started to go in and out, the burning in your lungs now first and foremost in your mind. Charles stepped into your view, kneeling down next to you and you focused on him. 

“Hey! Hey! Y/N, what's wrong.” He yanked your hands away to check your neck, and you were suddenly able to take a gasp of air with a frightened sob, curling yourself in closer to him, and your arms going around his neck. 

“Get me outta here please! I don't want to be in this house anymore.” 

Charles moved to a stand, his hands grasping yours and pulled you to a stand. “Okay, we will end the tour here.” Hurrying you along, you both shoot into the hallway and turn to head back to the main stairway when at the end of the hallway, when the woman you had seen in the upside down room beckoned you two to her. “Come child, the parties this way, I just need to go freshen up, get you dressed for the party.” 

You pulled up sharply in fear with a panicked scream, and Charles spun you around. “This way, there's another staircase at the end of the hall.” 

Now your running with Charles to get away, every door and corner you two ran into became a blur. Once in a while a door would open, some nightmare of a person beckoning you to step in and join them, child like giggles echoes around you or hisses of your name just out of sight made you try to run faster, gasping for air as your lungs burned from running through the endless hallway. Charles was getting winded as well when he came to a staircase but that too was also blocked. This time with a wailing woman, her eyes rolled back to just the whites and clutching her purse to her chest, a dress looked like it had been shredded. Her skin was wrinkled and paper thin looking, what remained of her clothing something from a decade earlier. “I was just here to tour the house, can you show me the way out?” she screamed at you two, below her on the stairs were others, begging to be shown the way out. Now you froze, your mind in shock. 

Charles yanked on your wrist to pull you away as you teetered on the edge of the stairs, continuing to another hallway. 

“The servant's stairs are this way. They lead through the kitchen.” Charles rattled a door knob trying to get it to open, and you looked over his shoulder when there was a flash in your peripheral vision. The carpet in the hallway rolled as if something was racing underneath it, and of course, it was coming right for the two of you. 

“Oh fuck, Charles, Hurry it up” Your hand grasps the handle to, yanking on it. “CHARLES IT'S COMING.” You scream, feeling the weight of panic crushing your chest whenever you looked up, whatever was coming for you was speeding up, flapping dust up from the carpet into the air and you screamed when it was almost on you. The door yanked open for you both to fall in, and slam it behind you, leaving you and Charles in the pitch dark. 

“Oh god, fuck, get us out of here Sebastian.” dropping his characters name, you were over this fun house of hell crap they had made for the charity. 

“What do you think I'm doing?!” He snapped, losing his cool control as he fisted his hand through his hair, taking deep dragging breaths. “Once you hit the kitchen, the door is to your left.” You both start racing down the stairs, trying to be as quick as possible without falling and when you reached that door, you yanked it open and sprinted into the room, expecting to see a stove, cupboards, tables, anything. 

But that's not what you came into, you crashed into a whole other room. Confusion blurs your mind when you take in the attic like dusty interior. Spinning around, a couple times trying to make sense of it. 

“AN ATTIC? WE WERE RUNNING DOWNSTAIRS, NOT UP!” You twist to go back out the door, but Charles slams it shut, and throws a bolt. 

“Oh no Dear, were just where we need to be.” Charles smoothed his hair back, the panicked demeanor completely gone as he fixed his appearance. You backed away from him, licking your lips and panting with a wheeze. 

“I d-d-d-don't understand why we are up here, how we got up here. I want to leave.” Your foot comes down as if you're about to throw a tantrum. “Now. I demand you to take me out of this, keep my money. I don't care Sebastian, I'm all done with this game.” 

Charles crooks a brow, and smirks, striding in close in which you panic and back up further. 

“As I told you before Sweetheart, I don't know who Sebastian is. And there is no leaving. Rose Red needs you, needs you to grow.” 

“To grow? Your fucking crazy.” You start to look for another way out, and your back comes up to a large stained glass window. The famous stained glass Rose that adorned the front of the Manor. 

“Yes, Ellen is still building, don't you see. She needs to feed, and as her great nephew it's my duty to keep her alive.” 

He’s fucking lost it. Hollywood has snapped Sebastian's mind. 

“Just let me go, I swear Seb-” His eyes snapped at you. “Charles… I won't say anything.” 

“Auntie, do you want to let her go?” he asked with a cold grin. “You want to keep building Rose Red right? Keep building for April?” 

Your eyes darted around trying to figure out who he was talking to. But there was seemingly no one there. 

“I will donate more, give you money to keep building.” You felt around your pockets and pulled out your wallet, yanking out your billfold. “See a card.” tossing it at him in the delirious hopes that would appease him. He simply stepped over it. 

“That won't work darling. Auntie Ellen, she needs other materials.” That cold touch you felt before in the mirror room, made you jolt, and you spun away from Charles to see the decaying little girl with her withered arm folded up against her chest. 

“Play with me and baby?” the girl asked, her withered decayed hand shaking as she reached out to touch you.

You reared back and stumbled away to keep her from touching you, momentarily forgetting about Charles till you landed smack into his chest and a forearm locked around your neck. “Why are you scared of cousin April. She just wants to play?” He sneered into your ear, and you started clawing at his arm and trying to kick at him. 

How did you get here, and maybe this was some crazy dream. Your gasping the more his arms tighten, giving one hard clawing motion on his face  when you reach back and kick backwards to cause you both to tumble. 

“You little bitch.” Charles twists to grab at you while you're crawling away, and you kick back one more time, catching him in the shoulder hard enough for him to let go of your foot. 

“Fuck off Prick.” you scream, and yank yourself up, about to run towards the door. You're so close to going back into that hellish fun house when you are stopped right in your tracks, like hitting a wall. 

The lady of the manor stood before you, long off white gown clinging to a corpse. She would have been beautiful once upon a time as your eyes roved her up and down, like all those pictures you saw when you googled Rose Red before your trip, but now she was a nightmare, you stuttering before her with a whimper. “Please... please let me go.” 

“But Dear, Rose Red needs you.” Her voice had a tinkling sound to it, meant to soothe.  

Her brown leathery skin that clung to a skeletal frame creaked when her bony clawed hands cupped your face in a loving gesture, and your terror filled eyes lifted to see her lip less mouth showed what appeared to be fangs. Pale dead eyes softened for a moment, until her claws sunk into your face, tearing through skin and muscle, piercing your skull and her mouth widened to a fang filled gaping rotten hole. 

This is it, this is how I die. Your mind screamed in terror as she descended on you, your vision going dark, and your life just draining away. The pain fades, and your eyes roll back to see nothing. The last thing you will experience in your life, the overwhelming scent of fresh roses. 

Charles wiped at his face when he came to, looking around the attic and seeing nothing more than your still body. Moving to get himself up, muttering to himself. “Fucking bitch, got my suit all dirty.” He walked past your body, and looked to see his aunt picking up a hammer, April standing next to her playing with her doll. 

“I know, more souls for you to feed on Auntie.” He opened the door and made to go back down the stairs, his decaying aunt giving a slight nod in agreement. 

Whistling as he safely strolled through Rose Red, he made his way out the front door, and down the walkway back towards the iron wrought gate. Once he returned, he leaned back against that stone wall, feet crossing at the angle and reaching up to pluck that red rose he had placed there earlier, twirling it back and forth. 

Within ten minutes a couple young women strolled up to him, and he gave them a flirtatious smile, and held out the rose to one of them. “Ladies, welcome to Rose Red Manor, my family home and one of the most haunted sites in New York. My name is Charles Blackwood. Can I have your tickets please?” 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Dead Meat.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!OC x Reader.

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: Cannibalism, Kidnapping/Imprisonment, Force-Feeding, Mentions of Injury/Blood, and Slight Bondage.

You couldn’t feel anything below your left knee.

Well, you could barely feel anything anywhere, to be fair. Your fingertips were numb, your skull was hollow, and your mind spun in dull, idle circles – going nowhere and doing nothing. You could think if you tried to, string words together in a way that you were sure would’ve had a meaning if you ever managed to spit them out, but your tongue felt heavy and your jaw was locked in place, every part of you either too tense to move or too limp to control. It took you a moment to realize your eyes were open, that you were staring up, towards the ceiling, your attention centered vaguely on a motionless fan. Sunlight streamed through an open window, clouds of steam rose from an uncovered pot on the stovetop, and yet, your entire body felt cold, like all the warmth had been carved out of your veins and replaced with something else, something still. Something dead, if not for the fact that you would’ve felt so much better if you actually were.

He was there, too, rummaging through the pantry built into the far wall, humming in a way that made you want to cover your ears and curl into yourself. Clearly, you could see him when you forced yourself to sit up, as well as the wooden chair you'd been laid over, your hands bound to its arms with lengths of twisted fabric. You usually weren’t allowed to leave the cellar, not during the day, not with such improvised restraints. You usually didn’t like to leave the cellar, not while he was working. Not if it meant you’d have to watch.

You didn’t struggle, didn’t make any real effort to resist or escape, but you shifted, attempted to straighten your back, and your shoulder knocked against the back of the chair with a slight, stifled thud. It was quiet, barely audible, but it was enough to earn a glance over his shoulder, a breath of a laugh. You attempted to hold still, to shut your eyes and pretend you were still unconscious, but he was already starting towards you, already wearing that awful smile – more teeth than anything else.

“Finally,” Eve started, positioning himself behind you and resting his hands on your shoulders. There was a gentle squeeze, a kiss to your cheek, and he lingered there, looming over you like some dark, hungry thing. “You were supposed to wake up hours ago. I was beginning to worry that I’d cut a little too deep.”

Cutting. Slicing. Cooking. His hair was tied back, and he was wearing that apron, the one covered in dark stains and fresh, tacky blotches. You glanced towards the kitchen counter, to the wooden cutting-boards stocked with slabs of raw meat, then downward, to your lap, to your legs. You let out a small, shallow sigh when you saw that your left calf was still attached to you, albeit partially obscured, everything below your knee wrapped completely in white cloth. Bandages, you realized, with more thought than it should've taken, specks of red and pink just beginning to soak through. You couldn’t feel any of it, the injury numbed beyond all types of pain, but you couldn’t stop yourself from cringing, from adverting your eyes as your throat went dry and you vision began to blur. He’d have to clean the wound, later on, and you could only hope that you wouldn’t have to be awake when he did.

His gaze flickering over your expression, Eve let out another shallow laugh, leaning down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. You could feel stubble rubbing against your skin, accompanied by warm breath and another kiss, this one lingering a second longer than the last. “Poor baby. I tried to be gentle, but you toss and turn so much in your sleep – I might’ve gotten a little rougher than I meant to.” His tone was sympathetic, affectionate, but both layered on so heavily, so thickly, you couldn’t take it as anything but a patronizing coo, meant to make you feel small and weak and little else. He was never harsh with you, never so much as raised his voice, but you thought you might’ve preferred it if he had been quick to anger, if all he ever did was lash out. At least then, he wouldn't bother trying to talk to you. “It doesn’t hurt too badly, does it?”

You started to shake your head, but he caught your chin. “Ah, ah – use your words. I need to hear your pretty voice.”

You swallowed, dryly. The words sounded distant, even to you, as weak and as fragile as he must’ve thought you were. “I… It doesn’t. I’m alright.”

“That’s perfect. The last thing I want is to cause you any pain, love.” You felt Eve lift his head, saw his gaze drift to your injured leg. You went stiff before you could stop yourself, but he only laughed, letting you go and moving back towards the counter, as he spoke. “Don’t worry, that’s all I’m going to take right now. That’s where a lot of people go wrong with this kind of thing—”

In the corner of your eye, you watched him pick up a meat clever that looked a little too small in his hands, its blade already covered in red, wet blood. You knew that you shouldn’t look, that it’d only make you feel worse, but it took so much effort to move, and it was so difficult to think, and you couldn’t imagine tearing yourself away, even as he began to cut into raw muscle and tissue. It hurt in a vague, abstract way – all ache and no catharsis. You half-expected there to be stabbing pangs, a fresh burning somewhere in your injured leg, but there was nothing, absolute void. It was dead meat, something that’d already been torn off and severed from its source. It didn’t belong to you, anymore. What he did to it didn’t matter.

Or, that was what you were trying to tell yourself, at least. You probably could've believed it, if you'd had a little more time.

“They rush. They take too much from too many places, and they expect it all to be the same.” Fuck, he was talking about that again. If you hadn't known any better, you would've said that was the part he really liked – the aesthetics of his grisly hobby, the idea that he was somehow better than the monsters and maniacs who bathed in blood and kept coolers packed to bursting with buckets of viscera and rotting corpses hung on rusting hooks. When he first took you, when you were still delusional enough to think that there was anything you could do to make him let you go, he’d spend hours ranting about it, holding you to his broad chest as he rambled on and on about how you shouldn’t be afraid, about how he was going to savor you for as long as he possibly could. As if that made him any less of a sadist. As if you’d find it comforting to know he was going to tear you apart, piece from piece, and keep you alive long enough to do it over, and over, and over again. “They don’t know how to pace themselves. They don’t have any self-restraint. They wouldn’t love you, not like I do, and if you were stuck with one of them…” He trailed off with a light chuckle, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t think about that. Stress spoils the taste.”

He bent down, fished a cast-iron pan out of a cabinet with a padlock hanging from the handle, waiting to be used on another closet door, another empty meat locker. The chill had thawed, and the kitchen’s heat was beginning to get to you, to work its way under your skin and make your mind that much uncooperative. Minutes later than you should’ve, you forced your eyes to shut and let your head roll back to rest against the chair’s spine. You were aware of your mouth opening, but the sound of your voice was as surprising to you as must’ve been to him. “Are you going to kill me?”

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin teeth and little else. “Need a little more sleep? I just told you – I’m not that wasteful."

“That’s not what I—” The faint click of a gas burner switching on, the bubbling pop of meat falling into boiling oil. You dug your nails into the chair's arms, doing what little you could to hold yourself steady. “Are you ever going to kill me? Or, am I just going to be here until die, and you’ll be cutting me up forever, and—”

“Don’t push yourself.” His tone was light, but the order was strict. You closed your mouth instantly, gritting your teeth and locking your jaw into place. “Do you want to know why I can’t hurt you, darling?”

He did hurt you. He hurt you by keeping you here. He hurt you by doing this. You were missing a piece of your fucking leg because he couldn’t stop hurting you.

But, you only nodded, staying silent for a moment before catching yourself and correcting your mistake. “I do.”

He didn’t respond to that, not at first. A small, smart part of you hoped that he never would.

There was another round of seasoning, another minute or two of cooking and cutting and mutilating what he didn’t have the right to touch. By the time he finished, what little strength you had was already beginning to wane, making it near-impossible to do anything more than blink as he pulled another chair up in front of you, as he held something up to your pursed lips. A strip of meat, lodged on the end of a sleek steak knife. Seared, but barely. Just a few seconds past bloody.

Immediately, bile rose up in your throat. A new wave of nausea washed over you. If you weren’t strapped down, you might’ve collapsed, let your body put you out of your misery before your mind could force it to. “Get away from me.”

“Don’t be stubborn. I’m just giving you what you asked for.” He was always so calm. He was always so patient. You wished, more desperately than you’d ever wished for anything, that he’d snap, falter, leave you little more than a body to be gutted and dismembered. You wished that he’d just get it over with. You wished that he’d even try to be that nice. “Open up, baby. This will only be as bad as you make it.”

You wished he would kill you. You wished he would kill you. You wished he would kill you. “Don’t— No, no, don’t touch—”

He didn’t give you a chance to finish. The blade cut into your bottom lip and scraped against your teeth as he shoved it into your open mouth, drawing it back just as quickly before dropping it altogether, letting it clatter to the floor. You tried to spit the meat (because it had to be meat, because it couldn't be anything else) out, but his palm was already plastered over your mouth, and he was already hushing you, too, already laughing as he took you by the shoulder and coaxed you forward, as he murmured meaningless nothings. You gagged, your body lurching forward, but he only held you still, only smiled. Only watched on, drank in your revulsion and your terror like a fine wine, hand-brewed and aged to perfection.

You didn’t chew. You didn't think. You swallowed it whole, choked the meat down despite the way it clawed at the inside of your throat, despite the way you heaved when it was over, when Eve had gotten what he wanted. “You did so good. You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?” When you stopped moving, your body going completely limp, he pulled back just far enough to cup your face, to lean towards you. “You’re the best fucking thing I’ve ever had. That’s why I’m never going to use you up. That’s why I’m going to take care of you. That’s why I have to love you, like this.” He kissed the top of your head, lingering seconds longer than he absolutely had to. “You understand, don’t you?”

You nodded, but all you could taste was ash and blood.