#Used Cars Battle Creek

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Since Taylor seems to be confused about what Mary's Song (Oh My My My) is, I put together a comprehensive list of potential mashups or pairings she could use during surprise song o'clock. Hope this helps 🫶

She said, (dear reader) I was 7 and you were 9. I hit my peak at 7. The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children. I looked at you like the stars that shine in the sky. Love you to the moon and to Saturn. The stars in your eyes shined brighter in Tupelo. I've never seen nobody shine the way you do. He's passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. The pretty lights. One night a few moons ago, I saw specks of what could have been lights but it might just have been you. I know looks can be deceiving, but I know I saw a light in you. And our daddies used to joke about the two of us growing up and falling in love. Up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush. And our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes. When you're on the phone and you talk real slow 'cause it's late and your mama don't know. And said "oh my, my, my." (My, my, my, my.)

Take me back to the house in the backyard tree. Please picture me in the trees. In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords. Friday night beneath the stars in a field behind your yard. Said you'd beat me up, you were bigger than me, you never did. Hey Dorothea do you ever stop and think about me? Down in the park, honey, making a lark of the misery. You would break your back to make me break a smile. We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be, the mischief, the gift wrapped suburban dreams. Take me back when our world was one block wide. We had this big, wide city all to ourselves. When I'm feeling alone, you remind me of home. I didn't choose this town; there's just one who could make me stay all my days. I dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried. Daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you. I've been loving you for quite some time; I just like hanging out with you all the time. Just two kids, you and I. You throw your head back laughing like a little kid. Like a child when our eyes meet. At 14 there's just so much you can't do. When you're 15 and somebody tells you they love you, you're gonna believe them.

(Next chapter) I was 16 when suddenly I wasn't that little girl you used to see. 16 and wild. A teenage couple in the driveway, holding hands on the way to a dance. I'm crazier for you than I was at 16. Teal was the color of your shirt when you were 16 at the yogurt shop you used to work at to make a little money. The kind of radiance you only have at 17. But your eyes still shined like pretty lights. Your eyes look like coming home. Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night. And our daddies used to joke about the two of us. Any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored, 'cause my heart is yours. They never believed we'd really fall in love. Seems like there's always someone who disapproves. Sun sinks down, no curfew, twenty questions, we tell the truth. You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out, you are in love, true love. Not trying to fall in love, but we did like children running. And our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes. And your mama's waiting up, and you're thinking he's the one. And said "oh my, my, my." "Oh my, love is a lie," shit my friends say to get me by.

Take me back to the creek beds we turned up, 2am riding in your truck. 2am, in your car. Just a boy in a Chevy truck that had a tendency of getting stuck on back roads at night. And all I need is you next to me. Everything I need is right here by my side. I'll be summer sun for you forever. Take me back to the time we had our very first fight, the slamming of doors instead of kissing goodnight, you stayed outside till the morning light. I remember that fight, 2:30am as everything was slipping right out of our hands, I ran out crying and you followed me out into the street; you took me by surprise, you said "I'll never leave you alone." This love is worth the fight. You fight, then you talk. When we had that fight out in the rain, you ran after me and called my name, I never wanna see you walk away. Oh my, my, my. My heart, my hips, my body, my love.

A few years had gone and come around. Our coming of age has come and gone. We were sitting at our favorite spot in town. I love my hometown. This place is the same as it ever was. And you looked at me, got down on one knee. And all at once, you're all I want, I'll never let you go. I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings. I wanna teach you how forever feels.

Take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle. Church bells ring, carry me home, rice on the ground, looks like snow. I want you for worse or for better. There you'll stand, next to me, all at once, the rest is history. Our whole town came and our mamas cried. I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe. I had the fantasy that maybe our mismatched star signs would surprise the whole school when I ended up back at our class reunion walking in with you. You said "I do" and I did too. I vowed I will always be yours. I'm so in love that I might stop breathing. You and me forevermore. Take me home where we met so many years before. I find myself running home to your sweet nothings. Barefoot in the kitchen, sacred new beginnings that became my religion. Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die. It's been 2190 days of our love blackout. Floors of a cabin creaking under my step. Just being in your arms takes me back to that little farm. He feels like home. I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet, 'cause I haven't moved in years. I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway. We'll rock our babies on that very front porch. Your little hand's wrapped around my finger and it's so quiet in the world tonight, your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreaming so I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light. Give you my wild, give you a child. We could get married, have ten kids and teach them how to dream. After all this time, you and I. Time, mystical time. I've been sleeping so long in a 20 year dark night, now I see daylight.

I'll be 87, you'll be 89. Long story short, I survived. Time breaks down your mind and body, don't you let it touch your soul; I'm gonna love you when our hair is turning gray. All my days, I'll know your face. I'll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky. When Emma falls in love, it's all on her face, hangs in the air like stars from outer space. Oh my, my, my, my.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! <This is Part 8!>

* Usually, whether you’re in a fantasy or realistic world, when you have to battle an opponent you can pick up on their emotions and thoughts.

* Most people don’t realize physics prowess is only 50% of the battle, the other 50% is strategy.

* The thing about fighting monsters, especially ambiguous monsters that don’t have a lot of documentation like an Arae, for example, is that there’s no tactic to fight them.

* So your only option is brute force.

* ‘It’s too bad that doesn’t seem to work either though.’

* Luke, ever the heroic type, gets in between you and this lithe monster, striking it with his sword, only for it to pass through, like it waved through black mist.

* You feel claws dig into your shoulder as you scream in reflex.

* Your ADHD takes over, like everything is happening in slow motion. The way Clarisse raises her spear, Annabeth’s eyes flickering around the cabin until she spots the emergency stop chain, and the way Luke analyzes the train windows.

* ‘This is going to end with us owing Amtrak about $200K in property damages.’

* There’s not much you can do, even if your whip worked on this monster you're lousy at using it at best, so you do the only thing you can think of:

* You press your hand into the monster’s chest and whisper: “Despair”

* Letting the metaphorical box within you that you've kept under lock and key within you creek open just the slightest bit.

* ‘Please let this work.’

* You’re not sure what god to thank, but the Arae shrieks in pain, doubling back enough for you to get out of their grasp, just in time for Luke to use his sword to slice the metal train, and for Clarisse to break the large panoramic window.

* You land on the ground with a hard ‘thump’, rolling down the hill, you wait in silence, the group letting out a collective sigh when the Arae doesn’t chase you.

* You stand up, dusting yourself off, and watching the train disappear into the distance.

* “What the hell was wrong with that thing?” Luke grumbles.

* ‘We are demi-gods, though we seem like the box car children at this point.’

* “I know what you mean, I’ve never seen an aggressive Arae before.” Clarisse grumbles in agreement.

* “Usually they just float around.” Luke nods.

* “It was leaving us alone,” Annabeth adds. “It was only looking for (Y/N).”

* Their gazes immediately shift to you.

* “What sense does that make, Hades is their dad.”

* ‘Not really, but I agree, he wouldn’t send monsters after me.’

* “Hades isn’t the only god out there capable of sending monsters.” This earns you stunned silence and the situation begins to sink in.

* ‘Dionysus did say that Posiedon was having to placate him up there, I guess he’s doing a shitty job.’

* “Now what?” You ask, the woods stretch on for miles around you.

* “The next stop is in Charlotte, and there’s a ten hour hault where we’re supposed to switch trains.

* “We can walk and catch the next one.” Luke nods.

* “Let’s hope there’s no Arae’s on that one.” Clarisse grumbles.

* You walk until the sun begins to set,settling into a small clearing for the night, deciding to sleep in watches. You stifle a yawn as Luke settles in beside you, his back against the tree.

* “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” You ask, and he shrugs.

* “I don’t feel sleepy.”

* ‘Fine, I guess we’ll just sit in silence then’

* “Are you thinking of going back home after the summer?” He asks, breaking the silence.

* ‘You mean if we survive this week?’

* You haven’t thought of anything beyond your next action. For the first time, you can say you’ve genuinely been living in the present.

* If all of this goes according to plan you’ll be back home in your cushy penthouse apartment, sleeping in your own bed, never having to experience something like this.

* But worst case—

* “I might get dragged into the Underworld.”

* You Mom isn’t around anymore, and you’ve never met your maternal grandparents so you imagine they aren’t a part of the picture. And if your dad isn’t around you imagine custody falls to good old Hades and Persephone.

* ‘Well there’s Maki too, but I don’t know, she’s so flakey maybe the underworld is safer for everyone involved.’

* Luke flinches at the mention, his face as pale as freshly fallen snow.

* “D-don’t worry, that won’t happen.” He stutters, his hand fumbling over your own, giving it a firm squeeze.

* ‘Somehow I feel like he has the wrong idea.’

* You don’t say anything though, the warmth after not having your father’s constant doting hugs and pats feels nice.

* “What about you?” You try to turn the conversation away from you, and Luke hesitates.

* “My Mom…isn’t capable of taking care of herself, let alone me.” He goes on to tell you about his mom, how she’s getting mental help at an institution now but that staying out to try and protect him wasn’t the right move. And his jerk of a dad only made things worse.

* “He drove her to it really, either with his negligence or lies—no matter what he does I’ll always blame him for it.”

* “So that’s my sob story.” He says with a shrug, he’s being so open and vulnerable with you. You turn your palm over and give his hand a squeeze.

* “Sometimes the gods can be jerks.” He looks at you wide eyed, it’s impetuous to say it aloud, especially when you’re sure you’re being watched, but Luke’s laugh reassures you.

* “Yeah, they can be.”

* You’re not sure when you fall asleep, just when you awake morning golden hour light fills your eyes, and there’s an ache in your neck.

* Your nose twitches as a thin, straw like material brushes against your nose.

* ‘It’s softer than straw.’

* Only when the fuzzy haze of sleep lifts do you realize that it’s not particularly soft grass, it’s hair, Luke Castellan’s hair to be precise.

* You gaze lifts to be met with a sleeping Luke Castellan, your drool covering his entire shoulder. You jerk away quickly, face feeling hot.

* ‘This is so embarrassing, I can’t believe I drooled all over his shoulder!’ There’s a literal spit stain over his shoulder.

* When you turn you’re met with a pouting Annabeth and a smirking Clarisse.

* You’re thankful they don’t say anything past their expressions when Luke begins to stir awake.

* “We should start walking.”

* The thing about North Carolina is that there isn’t anything there, it’s a rural area, with wide green fields for as far as you can see.

* You cross into the suburbs, and then the city, feeling positively miserable by the time you make it into the train.

* You fall into a heap when you get to your compartment, too exhausted to think about showering.

* “Let’s never do that again.” you sigh, receiving three disgruntled grumbles of agreement in response.

* You feel your eyes droop close.

* Black stretches for as far as you can see, dots of silver glimmering somewhere in the distance.You’re free falling, wind brushing against your face and body until you land on something. You rub your head, wobbly as you turn over, only to look into two star speckled black eyes.

* You want to scream, to say something, but the words get caught in your throat.

* “The boy has done well.” An ancient voice whispers, lips spreading apart to reveal a row of glimmering teeth. You’re lifted in the air by your shoulder, pinched between too thick fingers.

* Awakening just before you’re about to be swallowed whole.

* You wake up gasping for air, your hand clutching your chest. Your eyes sweep the compartment, Annabeth leaning against a sleeping Luke, Clarisse with her arms crossed as she snores lightly, fields of green falling past from the window.

* “That can’t have been good.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this part! As always if you like the series drop a like or a comment, they make my day! And if you want to be added to the tag list please comment on this post (The most recent post)

Tag List: @holybatflapexpert @atomicsoph @fadingunknowncoffee @hopeworldsupremacy @padsfirewhisky @magical-dreamland @ladylapize @kookiedesi @kiritokunuwu @bleepmorp @flickeringlizard @luckyzipperscissorsbat @jessiegerl @bluegremlin108 @undecided-as-always @officiallydarkgeek @marsbars09 @smolfrogz @yizhoutv @alicesolengg @luxaryllis-primaryacc @time-shardz @cryinghotmess @crow-with-a-hoodie

[ultfan]

SHAKESPEARE AESTHETICS

ROMEO & JULIET:

suburban  july.  scraped  knees.  bruised  knuckles.  blood in your teeth.  bare feet  on  hot  concrete.  restlessness.  your  high  school’s  empty  parking lot.  love  poems  in  your  diary.  a  window  open  to  coax  in  the  breeze.  burning  inside. an  ill - fitting  party  dress. a  t - shirt  you  cut  up  yourself. the  time  you  tried  to  give  yourself  bands. biking  to  your  friends  house.  bubble gum.  gas  station  ice. the  feeling  that  you've  met  before.  rebellion.  a  car  radio  playing  down  the  street.  cheap  fireworks. a  heart  drawn  on  the  inside  of  your  wrist  with  a  sharpie. switchblades. red  solo  cups. dancing  in  your  bedroom. screaming  yourself  hoarse.  running out of options. the  forlorn  looking  basketball  hoop  at  the  end  of  a  cul - de - sac. climbing onto your  roof at night  while your parents  are asleep. flip - flops.  a  eulogy  written on  loose - leaf. the  merciless  noontime  sun.

HAMLET:  

speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a  browning  garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered in sheets.  fog at dawn,  mist at twilight. losing touch. the  ethereal  space  between  winter  and  spring. the  soft  skin  at  your  temple. the  crack  in  the  hallway mirror. things you'd say if you knew the words. uncombed  hair.  books  with  writing  in  the  margins.  books  with  cracked  spines. books  with  lines  scratched  out. prayers  on  all  souls’  day.  a  chipped ceramic  bathtub.  a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness  of your own  heartbeat. the  sparrow  that  got  in  your  house. shadows. the  creek  you  played  in  as  a  child. a  dirty  night  gown. an  oversized  t - shirt. a  collection  of  your  favorite  words.  soil  beneath  your  nails. ghost  stories. the strangeness of  your own name  in your mouth. deep  silence. exhaustion. a  cliff  with  a  long,  long  drop  down.

TWELFTH NIGHT:    

wicker  deck  furniture. new  england  summer. large  sunglasses  and  a  blonde  bob. a  storm  over  the  ocean. patio  umbrellas. flapping  in  the  wind. the  smell  of  chlorine. muffled  laughter. sarcasm. starched  cuffs. day  drinking.  bay  windows. the  idea  of  love. love  for  the  idea  of  love. love  for  love’s  sake. hangovers. wandering  over  the  sand  dunes. a  vagabond  with  a  guitar. fishermen  with  tattoos. a  pretty  boy  with  a  slacked  tie.  a  lighthouse.  growing  too close. boat  shoes. feeling  yourself change. big,  floppy  sunhats. double - speak. a  song  you  keep  listening  to. turning  red  under  their  gaze. margaritas  drank  on  an  inflatable  pool  lounger. string  lights  on  a  balmy  night. sleepy  june  days. fights you're  unprepared for.  hope  you  weren’t  expecting. pranks  that  go  too  far.  bad  poetry. pining.  becoming  less  of  a  stranger.

MACBETH:    

the space where  your grief used  to be. a  bird  that's  lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the  smell  of  sweat. the stillness after a battle. a  fake  smile. a  curse. the  taste  of  metal  at  the  back  of  your  tongue. your  house,  unfamiliar  in  the  dark. a  dusty  crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks  in  the  sink. a  black  cocktail  dress. your hand on  the doorknob,  shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel  driveway on a  moonless night. clenched  hands. a  rusty  swing  set. a  flashing  digital  clock  stuck  on  12 : 00. a  snake  that  crosses  your  path. an  owl  that  watches  you. a  dog  that  runs  when  you  approach. red  smoke,  dark  clouds. cool  steel.  tile  floors.  footsteps  in  the  hallway  late  at  night. a  baggy  suit  that  used  to  fit  before.  visions. insomnia headaches. nursery  rhymes.  being too far in to go back now.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING:  

the  high  drama  of  small  towns. a  pickup  truck. military  supply  duffel  bags  in  the  hall,  hugs  all  around. tulip  bulbs. a  wraparound  porch. a  pitcher  of  iced  tea. a  rubber  halloween  mask. someone  on  your  level.  ill - timed  proclamations. stomach  clenching  laughter. rushing  in. not  minding  your  business. crepe  paper. white lies. secrets written  down and thrown  away. southern  hospitality. homemade  curtains  in  the  kitchen. a  sink  full  of  roses. hiding  in  the  bushes. old  friends. the  wedding  dress  your  grandma  wore,  and  her  mama  before  her. a  dog - eared  rhyming  dictionary. chamomile  with  honey. the  intimacy  of  big  parties. lawn  flamingos. gossip. a  crowded  church. friendly  rivalries. unfriendly  rivalries. shit  getting  real. love  at  five  hundredth  sight. not realizing  you're home  until you're  there.

KING LEAR:

cement  block  buildings. power  lines  that  birds  never  perch  on. the end of  the  world. useless  words. rainless  thunder,  heat  lighting,  a  too  big  sky. arthritic  knuckles. broken  glass. chalk  cliffs. the  pulsing  red - black  behind  closed  eyes. something you  learned too late. wet  mud  that  sucks  up  your  shoes  while  you  walk. a cold stare. empty  picture  frames. empty  prayers. the  obscenity  of  seeing  your  parents  cry. a  treeless  landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark  with reaching hands. the sharpness  at  the  tips  of  your  teeth. the  blown  out  windows  of  a  skeletal  house. decay. jokes  that  aren’t  jokes. biting  your  tongue. prophecies. aching  muscles,  tired  feet. stinging  rain. invoking  the  gods. wondering  if  the  gods  are  listening. worrying  that  the  gods  are  dead. white  noise. shivers. numbness. the  unequivocal  feeling  of  ending.

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM:    

the  smell  of  wet  soil  and  dead  leaves. listening  to  music  on  headphones  with  your  eyes  closed. wildflowers. the  distant  sparkle  of  lightning  bugs. a pill someone  slipped  you. fear  that  turns  into  excitement. excitement  that  turns  to  frenzy. mossy  tree  trunks. a pair  of yellow  eyes  in  the  darkness. night  swimming. moonlight  through  the  leaves. a  bass  beat  in  your  chest. a  butterfly  landing  on  your  nose. a  kiss  from  a  stranger. a  dark  hallow  in  an  old  tree. glow  in  the  dark  paint. drinking  on  an  empty  stomach. a  twig  breaking  behind  you. spinning  until  you’re  dizzy. finding  glitter  on  your  body  and  not  remembering  where  it  came  from.  an  overgrown  path  through  the  woods. cool  dew  on  your  skin. a dream that  fades  with  waking. moths  drawn  to  the  light. giving yourself  over,  completely. afterglow. the  long,  loving,  velvety  night.

[roonyxx]

The One Where It Hurts

Summary: Dean hurt you by leaving, can he make it up to you?

Warnings: ANGST, heart break, alcohol use, drunk, language, Dean being a little dickish, hurt.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam (mentioned)

Wordcount: 3249

A/N: this is written for @smol-and-grumpy​‘s super friends title challenge! I got the title “The One Where It Hurts”, congratulations I hope you enjoy! 

My Masterlist

You watched from your car to the suburban family house. The green garden surrounded by the white picket fence. Nice flowers next to the little path that lead to the front door.

The perfect apple pie life.

The curtains were open, more tears clouded your vision as you saw him kiss her.

The knife in your dead and cold heart twisted a little more at the sight of affection.

Things turned bad six months ago…

You fought hard for the people you loved, one you lost and the other, he left you…

For Lisa…

So here you were, all alone. Watching the man you love, loving someone else.

You never told Dean about your feelings, to afraid he’d reject you and lose your precious friendship with him.

But that changed when you both lost Sam…

While you were working on a way to get Sam back, Dean was packing his bag.

“W-where are you going ?” you asked Dean when you saw the bag in his hand.

“I-I can’t Y/n…” his voice wavered with unshed tears “I – I can’t stay…”

“B-but where are you going ? I will come with you, Dean. I won’t leave you alone.” You turned to grab your bag but Dean stopped you.

“No.” he said “You can’t come.”

“Why not ? I-I won’t bother you.” You begged him, without Dean you would be all alone.

“I’m going to Lisa Y/n. I can’t bring you with me, it’s worse enough I ask her to take me in, I can’t ask for more.”

You looked up at him, but he was avoiding your eyes.

“Y-You’re leaving me ? But… I have no one Dean… I-I need you.” You sat back on the bed, afraid your legs wouldn’t be able to hold you.

“You can go to Bobby, I just… I need to get away. If one day I wanna be happy again, I know Lisa is my best shot.”

With those words he had loaded his gun and shot right through your heart.

You weren’t enough to make him happy… you weren’t enough to make him stay.

So when Dean left, you went to Bobby and stayed there for a while, you stopped eating, stopped sleeping, throwing yourself into hunting because that was the only thing you’re good at.

And every Friday evening you would drive to Battle Creek, Michigan to watch the man you love getting cozy with his girlfriend. Drinking your cheap bottle of whiskey until the sun rose again and you had to drive back to your depressing, cold and lonely bed.

He hurt you by leaving, you hated him, and still… you loved him.

You hated that you loved him.

It was 11:23 PM now, she would go up to their room and Dean would start closing the curtains and making sure everything is locked up. You chuckled to yourself, his hunting skills were already disappearing. You have been sitting in the same car, in the same spot for over 6 months and he still hasn’t noticed you. Not like he ever noticed you when you were friends…

You just hoped they would sleep… you have seen his shadow move over hers plenty of times in the last six months. It hurts, and after the rough hunt you just came from, there is only so much that you can take…

You loved Dean for years and she showed him one good weekend years ago and she gets to end up with him ? What is fair in that ?

You had picked him up half dead or half drunk, saved his life multiple times, sew him up and been his shoulder to lean on since forever. You gave him your everything.

But still, you weren’t enough to make him happy… to make him stay.

You watched his shadow move through the house to his bedroom. And as he turned off the light, your sobs grew.

Just the thought of him holding another woman was cutting off your air supply. You clutched the bottle close to your chest, trying to fill the hole Dean made. But it didn’t work…

You spend the rest of the night drinking your tears away, only to leave when the sun rose again.

To return to your bed and wait for the next Friday to come around to torture yourself some more.

The next Friday you felt worse than ever. You had brought two bottles of Jack with you when you parked in front of the house.

Opening the first as you turned your head towards the kitchen window. Taking your first big gulp as you watched his arms curl around her waist and kiss her cheek.

You went on three hunts this week, barely making it out of every one, and losing more people then saving them.

You were letting yourself go, you could feel it in the way you held your machete earlier that day, your grip on it lose, as if you wanted the vamps to kill you…

It would end your suffering.

But you killed them first, not before they slammed you into a wall making your head bleed.

You smelled horrible, your hair bloody, mixed with dirt from digging graves and pieces of ghoul, your knuckles split open and infected from hitting your motel wall in drunken rage, skin ashen grey from living on whiskey and not much else.

You had no time to take a shower this week, not that you cared to take one, you were alone, no one was bothered by how disgusting you were, so you felt no need to. You were used to your own disgust and frankly too exhausted to acknowledge it.

Another long slug of the bottle, rendering it near empty. You had no intention to drive back the next morning, so you kept going, finishing the first bottle in twenty minutes.

It was unfair… Looking at Dean being happy and you feeling miserable, barely alive.

His words never left your head, they played in a permanent loop.

“If I one day I wanna be happy again, I know Lisa is my best shot”

“When I do picture myself happy, it’s with Lisa.”

She wasn’t there when he came back from Hell, she didn’t put him back together piece for piece, hoping that when he was whole again, he would notice you, what you did for him, that you loved him.

But no, as soon as you had put him back together, he was banging the first chick that flashed him a smile.

You couldn’t even get a thanks from him, his flirty smile was never towards you. Not like you would deserve his attention, you were already happy to be his friend.

You opened the second bottle, watching Dean and Lisa make out on the couch, coughing with sobs as the whiskey burned down your throat.

With the big weigh lost and the empty stomach you could start to feel the alcohol flowing through you. Making you feel weightless, the exhaust fading, the broken heart almost forgotten.

Almost…

When you were near the end of your second bottle something brave inside you sparked, something stupidly brave…

You opened the door of your car and stumbled across the street, bumping into the mailbox, making it fall to the ground as you moved towards the front door.

“W-woops.” You slurred.

You stumbled upon the steps, half falling against the front door as you started banging on it and ringing the bell.

Dean opened the door, gun pointed at your face.

“Who are you!” he demanded.

You laughed loud and put your hands up.

“It’s me! You know, the girl you left when you hurried off to live your apple pie life.” Your laugh completely gone by the end of your sentence, tears rolling down your face as you looked at the man you loved, treating you like a stranger.

“Y-Y/n ? W-what are you doing here ? You look horrible.” He said as he put his gun away and looked behind him to close the door to his warm house that he obviously didn’t want to share with you.

“I’ve been here every Friday, watching you get all cozy with your girlfriend, is she that good ? Do you even think of me at all ?” The second bottle was catching up on you, you pushed down the bile as good as you could, focused on the man in front of you.

His eyes searched the street and caught sight of the familiar car across the street, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose

“I had noticed the car before, thought the neighbor was having an affair… Why are you here, Y/n ?”

That he even had to ask that completely broke you, your knees buckled and fell to the ground as Dean caught you just in time so you wouldn’t hit your head.

Everything was turning, you couldn’t stop it. Your body went limp as you felt the bile rise up and come out of you with an impeccable force, bending over to vomit all over the porch.

A big hand rubbed over your back, waiting for you to empty your stomach.

“Fuck Y/n, you’re skin over bone… when was the last time you ate ? Or even showered ?”

You were to weak to answer, reaching into your pocket you handed him the key of your motel room and car before everything turned black.

The soft sloshing of warm water around you is what woke you. Slowly you opened your eyes.

You were in a bathtub. Someone was running a washcloth along your neck. You turned your head to see Dean.

“W-what happe-“

“You knocked on my door in the middle of the night, drunk out of your mind, puked on my porch, and passed out.” He stated bitterly, you noticed his eyes were looking ahead of him and not at you.

Well that explained the enormous headache and feeling of guilt, but why did you feel so …

Naked! You were naked. You wrapped your hand over your chest and clenched your thighs shut.

“Sorry… you were covered in vomit and… blood, you were cooling down. I had to get you warmed up and clean.” He said as he stood up. “I’ll be in the room next doors.” And with that he left the bathroom.

A big sigh left your mouth… stupid! Why did you go to his door and pulled him from his perfect life and into your shit.

You looked at the brown bathwater you were sitting in. You felt so ashamed he saw you like this…

You stood up and pulled the plug, rinsing off the remaining dirty water from your body with the shower head.

You got out, dried yourself off and put on the bathrobe before leaving the bathroom.

Dean sat on the bed as he looked around the room, papers from cases on the walls and table, clothes everywhere, many empty bottles, knives and guns everywhere, even a condom wrapper here and there.

“So this is where you have been living ?” he asked as his eyes kept going over the mess.

“Yeah” you walked to the fridge to take another beer. “You want a beer ?”

“No thanks” he said.

You shrugged and took one for yourself, but before you opened the can, it was ripped from your grip.

“Hey! That’s mine!” you yelled at him.

“I’m not letting you drink this, you puked and passed out hours ago!” he groaned.

“Well I’m sorry to ruin your perfect life, why don’t you just leave again so I can suffer in peace.”

“I’m not leaving before I see you eat something. You’re skin over bone, when is the last time you ate something?”

“Since when do you care? You don’t have to pretend, go back to your pretty girlfriend, Dean.” You swallowed hard, this was the first time you said his name after he left you, it hurt you to much to hear it out loud.

“I care! Don’t you dare saying that I don’t !” he yelled at you.

You turned to him and pushed his chest hard.

“YOU DON’T! YOU FUCKING LEFT ME! I HAD NO ONE! FUCKING NO ONE!”

He grasped your wrists to stop you from pushing him.

“You had Bobby !” he held your arms in his hands, looking at you.

“Yes, and  I’m forever grateful that he took me in, but I couldn’t put my shit on him.” You snapped as you pulled free from him.

“So you have been living in this dump for six months ?” he mentioned to the mess around him. “Not eating and not showering ?”

You shrugged looking around, not really seeing the problem.

“Please tell me you at least showered after you fucked some random guy.” he sighed as he pointed toward a condom wrapper.

“That’s none of your fucking business” you seethed at him.

You tried to move on in the beginning, tried to fight the loneliness by inviting strangers to warm your bed, but by the morning it was twice as cold, and your heart only broke more. No one was what you wanted, what you needed.

No one was him.

He started picking up bottles and putting them in a box by the door.

“Please stop.” You told him.

“Just let me help clean this place.” Said as he continued picking them up

“I said STOP” you pushed him again, your anger over flowing.

He dropped the bottles and held up his hands.

“Fine if you want to live in this garbage, then that’s your choice.” He spat at you.

“Just leave, go back to her. I won’t ever bother you again. I’m sorry.” You breathed out. Maybe if you didn’t see him anymore it would be easier ?

Deep inside you knew it wouldn’t be …

“What happened Y/n ? Why did you let yourself go like this, this isn’t you.” He looked you in the eyes.

“What happened ? Seriously, Dean. You shouldn’t have to ask that.”

“What do you mean ?” he seemed to genially not know.

“I lost Sam too Dean, and on top of that you left me, because you could impossibly be happy around me. You might have found a warm home with Lisa but I didn’t, the last six months have been the worst of my life. I am alone Dean, I have no one… So YES I had sex with some random dudes who were desperate or drunk enough to even want me because I got tired and sick of feeling so lonely all the time! “ Tears were rolling down your face as Dean looked dumbfounded at you.

“I lost both my best friends on the same day. One because he sacrificed himself and the other because I wasn’t good enough. Because after everything we went through… I wasn’t the one making you happy.” You took a deep breath before you continued.

“And I’m not blaming you for going to Lisa… Really I’m not. All I want in life is for you to be happy, I just wished it didn’t hurt me so much… I wish it meant that I could be part of your happiness, of your life, but obviously I’m not.”

“Y/n-“ Dean started but you cut him off.

“I’m not finished yet. I know she is the one making you happy, and that I’m clearly not enough for you, I know that. It just… it hurts Dean. It hurts because I love you and I can’t even make you happy…” Your voice broke with emotion as you continued.

“So yes, I watched you be happy and love another woman, because truth is ? I can’t life one week without seeing you. I lost my best friend and the man I love, and I hate you for leaving me, but I hate myself more for not being able to give you what you needed, and I tried, I really did… but I just wasn’t enough.” You sat down on the other bed, quietly sobbing to yourself. You did feel relieved to finally get it all out.

“Y-you love me ?” you heard him ask, you turned your head and saw a tear roll down his cheek.

You nodded slowly “I always did and always will.”

He got up from the other bed and sat next to you.

“I lied.” He said.

“Lied ? About what?” you asked him.

“About you not making me happy…”

“Wh- what ?”

He looked at you, really looked at you for the first time since you fell against his front door.

“You’re the only that really makes me happy, where I can be myself. But I… I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve to be happy, it’s my fault Sam jumped in the pit, I should have done more to stop him.” His tears didn’t stop.

“It’s not your fault, you know as well as I that Sam is too stubborn to listen to anyone. He wanted to do this, it was his choice, Dean. It’s not your fault.” You said, wiping you own tears.

He took your hand in his, squeezing it tight.

“I…I am so sorry for leaving you, it was the hardest thing I ever did… I just… I was too broken, you deserve someone good, someone who is not 99% crap. I thought if I leave now that you could heal on your own and find something better, but I just made it worse…” he sobbed, his head leaning onto your shoulder.

“There wasn’t one day where I didn’t think of you, where I didn’t miss you, Y/n. I’m so sorry…”

“Do you love her ?” You asked him.

“Who ? Lisa ?” He lifted his head to look at you.

You nodded.

“No, never. I just… I needed to try something else, I needed a fresh start. I… I was wrong, I hate this life, pretending to be something I’m not.” His jaw clenched.

“I’m not happy, you… you make me happy. You always did and I was to stupid to realize…” he cupped your face, looking into your eyes.

“I need you Y/n. Can I please have a second chance ? I know I don’t deserve it… But I wanna do good by you. Make you happy.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “I… I love you too.”

“What ?” you pulled out of his grasp “What did you just say ?” Were you dreaming ? He could have impossibly said that he lo-

“I love you, I have for a long time, I didn’t know it until I left you… I don’t feel complete when you’re not around.” His eyes were searching your face.

“I… don’t say that if you don’t mean it Dean, my heart can’t take it anymore.” You sobbed.

“I mean it Y/n. I really mean it.”

“How  can I know ?” you gasped for air between sobs.

He cupped both your cheeks and pressed his lips on yours, his plumb pillows moved against yours, tongue brushing your bottom lip to ask for access, which you granted him, your hand coming up to run your fingers through his hair like you dreamed of doing so many times.

His tongue danced with yours as he moaned into your mouth, one of his hands slipping to the back of your neck to pull you closer, he angled his face to the right, his nose pressing against your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

You could feel his love flow through his movements, you always knew Dean was a man of action and not much of words. You could feel the love he was giving to you, feel in in the way he kept his eyes closed, feel it in the way his hand was grasping your waist to pull you closer to him, in the way his tongue was mapping out every inch of your mouth.

He really does love you.

When the need for air became too much you broke the most intense kiss of your life and looked him in the eyes.

“I believe you” you said, smiling with tears in your eyes.

You slapped his chest softly “Don’t think this makes us good, you really hurt me, Dean. I can’t just forget the last six months.”

“I know Y/n, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. That is if you give me a second chance ?”

“Yes Dean, I could never say no to you. I love you, Dean.” You said.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

Feedback is my fuel or buy me a coffee :D

[sordidery]

∘ ▫ ♚ richard campbell gansey iii & shakespeare aesthetics.

romeo & juliet. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you'd say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls' day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love's sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you're unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you're home until you’re there.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren't jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream. the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by: @oddyseas. im smothering u in kisses and u cant do shit about it. tagging: @altarcup, for sabran or lestat or alice! @dreamlorn, love u. @damsul. @thanatologies. @wildkissed, for the trc kids or van or mal! @zerorisk, for the driver or grace!

[brawlqueen]

shakespeare aesthetic. 

romeo & juliet.   suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet.   speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter & spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night.   wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses & a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth.   the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing.   the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down & thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, & her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear.   cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream.    the smell of wet soil & dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body & not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by.  stole it from @riwrite ! tagging: @zelotae @bonescribes @desuetmort @nulltune @nostomannia @paraleech @hopefromadoomedtimeline @lykaiia @causalitylinked @woeborns @sinplly @kiealer @toadmiretoweepover @peachrote @stellarhistoria @pleiadeshalo@sheyearns @psychcdelica + you !

[xbadnews-a]

SHAKESPEARE AESTHETICS

romeo & juliet. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream. the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by: no one! i saw it in my recommended posts & snatched it tagging: @softersinned ( on any blog ), @deathwalkerr, @stellarhistoria, @whalefelled, @seeliecourt, @bookofvesper, @turnedfolkl0re, @khenzi, @zealctry, @barovianblood & literally anyone who wants to do it i want to Know

[belasso-blog]

ted's shakespeare aesthetics.

romeo & juliet. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you'd say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls' day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love's sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you're unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you're home until you’re there.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren't jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream. the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by: @andthe6 (thank you!!) tagging: @becoach @shegunner @afuckinglion @bekeeley @sangwoochos @consumare + anyone else who'd like to do this!!

[audiofictionuk]

New Fiction Podcasts - 27th January

Space Train Audio Drama Punch your ticket for a laughter-filled journey that transcends the boundaries of time and space. Space Train is a full-cast audio sitcom for people who like shows like Community, Futurama, Arrested Development, and the Good Place, delivering a unique blend of humor, heart, and interstellar absurdity. Buckle up, because this space-faring ensemble cast is about to take you on the ride of a lifetime! https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240124-01 RSS: https://feeds.fireside.fm/spacetrain/rss

Tales of the Crossroads Audio RPG We're just a bunch of friends, sitting around a table, playing The Crossroads Interdimensional Tabletop RPG. We decided to start recording these because we have a lot of fun and to give others a chance to learn about The Crossroads ITRPG. Embark on thrilling adventures across The Crossroads, a realm woven with countless portals to diverse dimensions. In this captivating podcast, dive into the immersive tales spun by various groups using The Crossroads Interdimensional Tabletop RPG system. Join our intrepid adventurers as they navigate this multi-dimensional world, facing challenges, unraveling mysteries, and forging unforgettable bonds. The Tales of the Crossroads promises an exciting journey where exploration knows no bounds. Uncover the secrets, triumph over obstacles, and experience the magic of interconnected stories in every episode. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240122-01 RSS: https://feeds.acast.com/public/shows/tales-of-the-crossroads

EAR CANDY Presents: The Next 5 Minutes Audio Drama It’s 2035… and things aren’t great Downunder. Mass homelessness, pollution ruining beaches, teenagers facing slave labour and everything, including euthanasing the elderly, has been privatised by a corrupt libertarian government in cahoots with Empyrean Industries, a shadowy corporation busy mining the moon. An underground terrorist movement called Swag Sting is mobilising but wracked by infighting. Crowd control measures include giant, deadly robot kangaroos. As our protagonists battle for humanity's essence, we uncover an alarming future that lurks uncomfortably close. THE NEXT 5 MINUTES is not just a podcast—it's a movement, a deep, dark, truthful mirror reflecting a future we must avoid. Every. Second. Counts. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240123-02 RSS: https://feeds.acast.com/public/shows/654d9e4a07e8cd00124881f9

Stop, Drop & Roll Initiative Audio RPG Introducing Stop, Drop & Roll Initiative, an actual-play D&D podcast hosted by wrestler Martin MacAlistair, podcaster and content creator Satsunami, Twitch streamer RoboticBattleToaster, and Chatsunami Podcast co-host Andrew. Elran (Andrew), Morek (Toaster), and Tempest (Satsunami) form an adventuring party after seeing a local guild's wanted ad and set out to fix a broken world. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240123-03 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/f0c1659c/podcast/rss

A Feminist Romance Novel, Podcast! Temptations at Sweetwater Creek Audio Drama What if you were suddenly plunged into the world of a romance novel? Charlotte, April and Polly find out when their car breaks down in Texas during a cross country road trip. After taking refuge at the Sweetwater Creek Ranch Inn, they meet Jack, a brooding cowboy with a rough exterior, Luke, a sexy innkeeper searching for a friend, and Dylan, a mysterious guest who may or may not be a vampire. Driven by a narrator obsessed with romance and happy endings, our three friends are whipped into a frenzy of sex, doubt, and betrayal. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240124-02 RSS: https://feeds.soundcloud.com/users/soundcloud:users:923516737/sounds.rss

Science Fiction - Hörspiele Audio Drama Bereits heutzutage finden immer weniger Bürgerinnen und Bürger der offenen Gesellschaft zum gemeinsamen Verweilen zusammen. Wie mag sich dies erst in 140 Jahren verhalten, immer vorausgesetzt, dass die den drittnächsten Planeten zur Sonne beglückende Menschheit bis dahin durchhält ohne sich selbst chemisch, bakteriell, atomar oder klimatisch auszulöschen? Fragen über Fragen wie geschaffen für einen utopischen Seelenstriptease-Thriller ... https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240121-03 RSS: https://moderne21.de/science-fiction-hoerspiele.xml

S-O-A-P Audio RPG This is an actual-play podcast for the indie ttrpg Stories of Adventure! https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240120-01 RSS: https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/2290034.rss

The Cellblock Scorch Writing Contest Audio Book A weekly short-story writing contest among a group of friends that started in 2018 and has continued unstopped since then. In this podcast the members of our group, the Stella Corps, share the winning pieces (aka "scorches") every week https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240123-04 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/ebb17894/podcast/rss

Modern Gothic Audio Book An anthology of weird stories. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240124-03 RSS: https://feeds.acast.com/public/shows/659d69ceeddc8100174ac30d

Harsh Static: A Fallout Actual Play Audio RPG What was just another day in the Mojave Wasteland gets interrupted by the pounding of metal feet and strange feedback through the radio. Rumors of odd robots and settlements going dark have people outside The Strip on edge, and things only seem to be getting worse when the Brotherhood of Steel is getting involved. Join our intrepid survivors as they brave the dangers of the wastes in search of the truth, encountering mechanical menaces along the way. Will they make their mark and conquer the day, or end up as another lyric in a sad old song? https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20240116-04 RSS: https://feeds.castos.com/63ovm

[songandflame]

—— shakespeare aesthetic.

romeo & juliet.

suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet.

speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter & spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night.

wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses & a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth.

the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing.

the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down & thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, & her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear.

cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

Tagged stolen from: @leatherforhell || Tagging: those with an inner Jean Valjean

a midsummer night’s dream.

the smell of wet soil & dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body & not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

[feysworn]

SHAKESPEARE AESTHETICS.

romeo & juliet. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream. the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

[multeasers]

♢ . SHAKESPEARE AESTHETIC. for aq ♡

romeo & juliet. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream. the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by : @sentinaels ( thank you !!! ) tagging ( though by no means feel pressured to do this ! ) : @coffinseas @battleguqin @goatedespada @healingpacifist + anyone else who'd like to !

[winterfollows]

SHAKESPEARE  AESTHETICS .

ROMEO & JULIET.   suburban  july.  scraped  knees.   bruised  knuckles.  blood  in  your  teeth.   bare  feet  on  hot  concrete.   restlessness. your  high  school’s  empty  parking lot. love  poems  in  your  diary.   a  window  open  to  coax  in  the  breeze. burning  inside.  an  ill - fitting  party  dress.   a  t - shirt  you  cut  up  yourself.   the  time  you  tried  to  give  yourself  bangs.   biking  to  your  friends  house.  bubble  gum.   gas  station  ice.  the  feeling  that  you’ve  met  before.  rebellion. a  car  radio  playing  down  the  street.  cheap  fireworks. a  heart  drawn  on  the  inside  of  your  wrist  with  a  sharpie.  switchblades.   red  solo  cups.  dancing  in  your  bedroom.  screaming  yourself  hoarse. running  out  of  options. the  forlorn  looking  basketball  hoop  at  the  end  of  a  cul - de - sac.   climbing  onto  your  roof  at  night  while  your  parents  are  asleep.  flip - flops.   a  eulogy  written  on  loose - leaf.  the  merciless  noontime  sun.

HAMLET.   speaking in a  whisper.  holding your breath.   a  browning  garden. a  half  remembered  story. furniture  covered  with  sheets. fog  at  dawn.   mist  at  twilight.  losing  touch.  the  ethereal  space  between  winter  and  spring.  the  soft  skin  at  your  temple.  the  crack  in  the  hallway mirror.  things  you’d  say  if  you  knew  the  words. uncombed  hair.  books  with  writing  in  the  margins.   books  with  cracked  spines.  books  with  lines  scratched  out.  prayers  on  all  souls’  day.   a  chipped ceramic  bathtub. a  cold  stone  floor. the  uncomfortable  awareness  of  your  own  heartbeat.    the  sparrow  that  got  in  your  house.    shadows.   the  creek  you  played  in  as  a  child.  a  dirty  night  gown.   an  oversized  t - shirt.   a  collection  of  your  favorite  words.   soil  beneath  your  nails.  ghost  stories.  the  strangeness  of  your  own  name  in  your  mouth.   deep  silence.  exhaustion. a  cliff  with  a  long,  long  drop  down.

TWELFTH NIGHT.   wicker  deck  furniture.   new  england  summer.   large  sunglasses  and  a  blonde  bob.   a  storm  over  the  ocean.   patio  umbrellas  flapping  in  the  wind.   the  smell  of  chlorine.   muffled  laughter. sarcasm.  starched  cuffs.  day  drinking.  bay  windows. the  idea  of  love.  love  for  the  idea  of  love.   love  for  love’s  sake.  hangovers. wandering  over  the  sand  dunes.   a  vagabond  with  a  guitar.   fishermen  with  tattoos.   a  pretty  boy  with  a  slacked  tie.   a  lighthouse.   growing  too  close. boat  shoes.   feeling  yourself  change.    big,  floppy  sunhats.   double - speak.   a  song  you  keep  listening  to.  turning  red  under  their  gaze.   margaritas  drank  on  an  inflatable  pool  lounger.   string  lights  on  a  balmy  night.   sleepy  june  days.  fights  you’re  unprepared  for.   hope  you  weren’t  expecting.  pranks  that  go  too  far.   bad  poetry.   pining.  becoming  less  of  a  stranger.

MACBETH.   the  space  where  your  grief  used  to  be.  a  bird  that’s  lost  an  eye. old  blood  stains.  heavy  blinds.  the  smell  of  sweat.   the  stillness  after  a  battle.   a  fake  smile.  a  curse.   the  taste  of  metal  at  the  back  of  your  tongue. your  house,  unfamiliar  in  the  dark.   a  dusty  crib.    the  smell  of  sulfur.  an  orange  pill  bottle.   streaks  in  the  sink.   a  black  cocktail  dress.   your  hand ��on  the  doorknob,  shaking.  a chilly  breeze.  crunching  from  the  gravel  driveway  on  a  moonless  night. clenched  hands.  a  rusty  swing  set.   a  flashing  digital  clock  stuck  on  12 : 00.  a  snake  that  crosses  your  path.  an  owl  that  watches  you.    a  dog  that  runs  when  you  approach.  red smoke, dark  clouds.   cool  steel.  tile  floors.  footsteps  in  the  hallway  late  at  night.  a  baggy  suit  that  used  to  fit  before.  visions.   insomnia  headaches.  nursery  rhymes. being  too  far  in  to  go  back  now.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.    the  high  drama  of  small  towns. a  pickup  truck. military  supply  duffel  bags  in  the  hall.   hugs  all  around. tulip  bulbs.   a  wraparound  porch.   a  pitcher  of  iced  tea.  a  rubber  halloween  mask.   someone  on  your  level. ill - timed  proclamations.  stomach  clenching  laughter. rushing  in.   not  minding  your  business.  crepe  paper.  white  lies. secrets  written  down  and  thrown  away. southern  hospitality.  homemade  curtains  in  the  kitchen.   a  sink  full  of  roses.   hiding  in  the  bushes.  old  friends.  the  wedding  dress  your  grandma  wore,  and  her  mama  before  her.   a  dog - eared  rhyming  dictionary.   chamomile  with  honey.   the  intimacy  of  big  parties.   lawn  flamingos.  gossip.   a  crowded  church.  friendly  rivalries.  unfriendly  rivalries.  shit  getting  real.   love  at  five  hundredth  sight.   not  realizing  you’re  home  until  you’re  there.

KING LEAR.    cement  block  buildings.  power  lines  that  birds  never  perch  on.   the  end  of  the  world.  useless  words.  rainless  thunder,  heat  lighting,  a  too  big  sky.  arthritic  knuckles. broken  glass.   chalk  cliffs.   the  pulsing  red - black  behind  closed  eyes. something  you  learned  too  late.   wet  mud  that  sucks  up  your  shoes  while  you  walk.   a  cold  stare.  empty  picture  frames.  empty  prayers.   the  obscenity  of  seeing  your  parents  cry.  a  treeless  landscape.   bloody  rags.  grappling  in  the  dark  with  reaching  hands. the  sharpness  at  the  the  tips  of  your  teeth.   the  blown  out  windows  of  a  skeletal  house.   decay.   jokes  that  aren’t  jokes.   biting  your  tongue. prophecies.   aching  muscles,  tired  feet.  stinging  rain.  invoking  the  gods. wondering  if  the  gods  are  listening.  worrying  that  the  gods  are  dead.   white  noise.   shivers.   numbness.  the  unequivocal  feeling  of  ending.

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM.    the  smell  of  wet  soil  and  dead  leaves.    listening  to  music  on  headphones  with  your  eyes  closed.   wildflowers.   the  distant  sparkle  of  lightning  bugs. a  pill  someone  slipped  you.   fear  that  turns  into  excitement.   excitement  that  turns  to  frenzy.  mossy  tree  trunks.   a  pair  of  yellow  eyes  in  the  darkness. night  swimming.  moonlight  through  the  leaves. a  bass  beat  in  your  chest.  a  butterfly  landing  on  your  nose.  a  kiss  from  a  stranger.  a dark  hallow  in  an  old  tree.  glow  in  the  dark  paint.  drinking  on  an  empty  stomach. a  twig  breaking  behind  you.  spinning  until  you’re  dizzy.  finding  glitter  on  your  body  and  not  remembering  where  it  came  from.  an  overgrown  path  through  the  woods.  cool  dew  on  your  skin.  a  dream  that  fades  with  waking.  moths  drawn  to  the  light.   giving  yourself  over,  completely.  afterglow.   the  long,  loving,  velvety  night. tagged by: @colecassiidy tagging: @dalishflame, @corvidblade, @bcneheaded, @ramblingsofamoonwatcher, @sunxdusk, @arsuledin, you!

[gloryseized]

shakespeare aesthetic.

romeo & juliet. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter & spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses & a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down & thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, & her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream. the smell of wet soil & dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body & not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by. @gerudosage (thank you so much for the tag!! this was a fun meme =3 ) tagging. @stellaelillac (for Annabeth) , @leatherforhell, @okeancs , @vigilantdesert , @unapologeticapaathy

[vigilantdesert]

shakespeare aesthetic.

romeo & juliet. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth.bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter & spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses & a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night.clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in.not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down & thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes.old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, & her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare.empty picture frames.empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream.the smell of wet soil & dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body & not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin.a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by. @gloryseized thank you love! tagging. youse!

[fanficanatic-tw]

Kayla Hale when Allison is killed by the Oni, controlled by the Nogitsune? For the oc fandom question.

Ahhh this episode broke my heart 💔

Just before they made the plan to save Lydia, Kayla and Allison had a talk about mortality and destiny, with Allison saying she felt like she was put here for a purpose and Kayla essentially sawing "screw fate. Screw destiny". They talk about how they love each other and have worked through so much together 🥺

The battle to save Lydia at camp oak creek commences, and Kayla manages to steal an Oni's sword and get past their defences to threaten the nogitsune. He tells her he let her through, and that even if they manage to kill him, nothing - nothing - will work out in Kayla and Stiles' favour. That they won't have a life together.

Kayla turns and sees her friends failing and getting injured, so throws the sword she wanted to use against the nogitsune to impale one of them before they slice down Isaac.

Just then, Allison shoots the nogitsune with her arrow and kills it. There's no time to process this as Kayla tried to run to her friends but the nogitsune grabs her and slams her into the car as she watches the oni leap towards Allison.

She fights to escape, to warn Allison, screaming her name and her panic conjures up this blast of energy that knocks everyone down.

For a second she thinks she warned Allison in time - that her blast of power did enough to save her, but it didn't.

She's forced to watch, as the nogitsune grabs her and pins her to the car, her best friend die in Scott's arms as the nogitsune taunts her.

"You see little Hale, this is what happens when you cross me" he growled as he pressed his taut body against hers, not letting up on his grip, forcing her to watch her best friend die in her first love's arms, knowing there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop this, "that-" he slammed his free hand next to her on the cool metal, firm body trapping her like a caged animal despite her desperate cries and pleas, her body shaking "-is just the beginning. Watch your back" and with that he let her go, watching in something close to amusement as her body slid down the length of the car, heart wrenching sobs escaping her throat, blocking out the last bloody words Allison spoke.

Yay; thanks for asking @darknightfrombeyond ❤️❤️❤️