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DRAFT I DONT WANT TO LOSE ABOUT THEM MEETING

Adam maybe rewrite this as a hunting trip? a bunny and a crow outside his cabin window or… as an interview with a hobo about what he saw the night leah died

I see them through the window. There’s two girls. One who could’ve passed as a gyaru in another country, with her spiky space buns, bright purple lipstick, pleaded mini skirt and cream puffy jacket, and the other who seemed to be of no remark.

Her clothes hid her well with the night. black jeans and jacket do that. Her hair is a curly mess, also very dark. Could be the light though, the yellowed streetlight gives me the impression that she could be a redhead.

The gyaru snatched something from the other girl’s hand right as it came out of her pocket. A pill bottle? judging by how quickly she downed the contents, I’d guess so. No money passed hands. So it couldn’t be a drug deal.

They’re talking. I can’t hear what about. The gyaru seems to be annoying the other girl. I stand back. The gyaru just pointed in my vague direction, and it could’ve been the light, or my imagination, but I swore the girl in black saw me. If just for a second. Her eyes lingered where I stood, before slowly looking back at the gyaru. She shook her head slolwy, muttering something i couldn’t decipher.

The other girl pleaded with her hands, bending her knees like a child begging for candy at the store. The girl in black sighed deeply, I could hear the annoyance even though a hypothenuse distance of 10 yards, and a wall separated us. To be fair, the gyaru did seem to be incredibly annoying. I sympathized with the girl in black.

Finally, the girls make their way towards the entrance a floor below me. I feel my smile pressed against the thick fabric of my mask. I was about to start hunting on the high hobos here, but a prey I could chase would scratch my itch a thousand times better. The knife in my hand twists as I get a better grip on it. I make my way away from the window, thrilled about the upcoming the chase.

I crouched down to hear their conversation as I walked towards the stairs. I wouldn’t meet them on the first floor, where they had the best odds at escape. No, I’ll make them come to me, I just need to make noise in the right moments.

I heard a loud thud, and then an embarrassed giggle followed by a half-assed apology. A complaint about the most certain presence of rats. A denial of rats being amongst us. One walked by my side as this was said. I looked impassively at the vermin. Too small to be a good prey. 

The voice of reason insisted, explaining that rats carry diseases and with the state of the other’s clothing, it was too big a risk to take. The reply as a high-pitched reassurance that was anything but believable. This voice also claimed to own the place and to have had it seen by a professional exterminator, a remodeling was soon to come, so to not fret. The silence spoke by itself.

By the way they sounded, I guessed that the reasonable voice belonged to the girl in black. I liked her voice. Straightforward, reasonable, deep but distinctly… attractive. She sniffled every now and then. I couldn’t blame her. I hadn’t been wearing my mask upon arriving, the dust was uLBearable. So was the humidity. I knew the air in the first floor to be stale and musty. I sympathized with her.

Then it happened. She sneezed. It was quite the strange way to do so as well. A silent intake of breath, followed by the almost imperceptible chhst. Like a kitten. I had heard this before. It was a weird, irreplicable sound. She sneezed again. Now I was almost completely certain of who she was. But I had to make sure.

I stood up and walked into a room. Any room. I made sure to make as much noise as I could.

I heard them go quiet. Then, the distinct tone of the gyaru mumbling something high-pitched about no one messing with her property, then marching steps towards the stairs. Strangely, I didn’t hear any other steps besides those. Maybe the girl in black was even more sensible than I thought. 

I saw the gyaru pass me by, I wasn’t even fully hidden and she could’ve easily seen me had she been paying attention. But she didn’t. They never did. Easy prey is easy because they don’t pay attention. Their surroundings are a mystery to them. They don’t even know where to run when needed. It was satisfying to see their fear, but the chase was always meh. I wanted a challenge. A real one.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t hear the girl in black coming up the stairs until I saw her… no, I couldn’t hear her steps at all. She was so quiet. She took in her surroundings, eyes narrowed and nose wrapped with her scarf -a guard against the dust?- 

My head tilted. Her build was as familiar as I expected, but I needed to be sure. I slid deeper into my hiding spot, pulling my phone out and going to the blog. I looked at the most recent post from my favorite cooking page. A picture of a drink in a skull shaped glass. I had already seen this as i arrived into town. I had liked and commented already. But I needed to experiment.

_A_9_S_7: Didn’t peg you as an urban explorer

I turned to see her. Right on cue. She stopped… and pulled her phone from her pocket. My heart soared, i took in a sharp breath and observed as her screen illuminated her face. Long lashes, arched brows that sat close to her eyes as her eyes scanned my comment. She blinked in surprise, but instead of commenting back, she locked her screen. I panicked. I wanted to play. And she wasn’t following along.

_A_9_S_7: Don’t ignore me.

Her brow furrowed as she read my new comment. She looked up for a second to try and find me. No dice. I was peeking through a peephole. She couldn’t see me, but I could see her just fine. She responded.

ODDS.HOBBY: ???

I smiled. I felt my phone vibrate as the reply arrived to me.

_A_9_S_7: Did you like the gift I sent you earlier?

I was talking about a card. I had doxxed her blog and email a while ago. I never did anything about it other than just snoop around until about two weeks ago, when I checked in like usual and found a chain of correspondence between her and a funeral home, pertaining the final rites of her mother. Old bitch had finally kicked the bucket. I had sent her a “condolences” card then. The card did say sorry for your loss in the front, but upon being opened, it would pop a balloon full of glitter and confetti, and the song the witch is dead from the wizard of OZ would start playing. I got notified of its arrival at her house a day prior. I could tell by her eye roll that she knew what I was talking about.

ODDS.HOBBY: It was funny

I let her wait for a response for a long moment. Mainly because the other girl was in the room next door, and my door was open. She would definitely see me standing there if I wasn’t careful. TO my surprise, she just walked deeper into the room she was in, almost tripping on the bathtub there. 

_A_9_S_7: Your friend doesn’t seem to care much about being here despite inviting you… are you sure you’re hanging around the right crowd?

she sighed quietly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she brought out her free hand to text me. ME. my favorite was paying ME attention. No one else.

ODDS.HOBBY: She doesn’t care about you being here either.

_A_9_S_7: she should

_A_9_S_7: as you should

ODDS.HOBBY: why should I?

_A_9_S_7:I might try something

ODDS.HOBBY: Really?

ODDS.HOBBY: Like what?

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NOSFERATU (2024) THE WITCH (2016) dir. Robert Eggers

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beautiful blue skies and golden sunshine all along the way

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Sometimes it is your fault.. Sometimes you don’t listen well enough, you’re selfish, you’re rude and you aren’t always right. Sometimes you fucked it up and tbh that’s okay. It happens, learn from it, apologize and keep it moving. Just because you fucked up doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. Don’t dwell on it

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Once neither scars nor blood bind you, freedom becomes more than a metaphor

Grab prints here

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Van Helsing: It's a good thing we left Madam Mina alone and in total ignorance to keep that pretty mind of hers safe from the horrors, these rats we just faced would have given her nightmares for sure because she is a woman, she's instead right now calm and peacefully resting at the asylum

Mina at the asylum:

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orlok animation! this movie! has me in a grip!

| find my art + me on instagram |

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im going to make a masterpost for all of my works relating to my series “In God’s Hands”

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I may kms

My favorite fanfics have been deleted and I had them nowhere else but here.

Theyre in their right to delete them, but nooooooo

Imma go cry now

Wishing them the best tho, the first were sickening (in the best literary way but also concerning about their mental health)

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want one/want two - rufus wainwright

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*does this to you*

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Adam is the only one who truly sees her

He is well aware that it is o ly because she allows it.

He knows he is privy to invaluable moments of humanity that others think unlikely of her. He knows that her doctors would pay with their souls for the information about her he gets for free.

He knows, for example, that she wakes up with her eyes closed, and they'll remain closed until she's had at least two cups of coffee.

He knows that her shower routine consists of at least 25 steps -that he lost track of afterwards- and he knows she uses specific scents to mask her natural smell.

He hates that, always preferring the soft iron and red he tastes on her skin. He knows that despite her routine preceding this shift in her natural essence, and the fact that he's responsible for this change, she won't stop.

He knows that it is because she is afraid... no. Not afraid. She's cautious about others knowing her condition. He knows that she's not sweaty, but she believes to be. She was told her hallucinations cause stress sweat, therefore, her extensive and meticulous care.

He knows her favorite food to be pancakes in the morning, pasta at midday and rice for dinner. With whatever pairing fits her taste buds that day.

He knows she turns anemic once a month on her period. He knows she is in pain, but is wise enough to never offer too obvious of a helping hand. She wants to prove she can tough it out.

He knows she runs both hands over her hair twice when she's nervous. He knows he makes her nervous.

He knows she's shy to a fault. He knows she'll never admit to this.

He knows that she's always itching to hold him, especially in public. He lets his arm drift outwards just slightly as he speeds up, knowing that she'll grab onto his pinky or his sleeve "to not lose him in a crowd" when in reality she just wants to touch him. He thinks this is adorable.

He is the only one who knows what she looks like as she folds her laundry. Or how she looks cooking. Eating. Reading. Sleeping.

He is the only one who knows how she looks like when she comes for him.

He knows that she sleeps sideways only to wakeup facing up with both hands over her ribs.

He knows that there's many things that only he knows. And that no one else in the world will ever find out if he can help it.

But it's not enough for him.

Hes mad, actually. Furious. That he's not the only one who knows what she looks like bleeding out.

There was no other way, and he knows this. At least he got to carry her in his arms until the ambulance arrived.

He knows that it was the only day that she'd ever smell more like herself -like blood, hers specifically- than any other day in their lives. He knows that the entire way out of there, he understood why she wanted to subdue that smell. It was addictive to him.

But not in the way he expected.

Other people he smelled bleeding out had him feeling like waiting upon a beat drop at a rave.

Audrey bleeding out though... it had him feeling like standing in the middle of a mile long fall on a rope bridge. The kind that would give away with a single light breeze.

Dread. He knew and understood that emotion that day.

Guilt as well.

He knew it was necessary for their cover. He knew she wouldn't hold it against him. He could tell by the way she quietly reassured him as he tried to keep calm, carrying her with shaking hands over to where the police told him to meet them.

He didn't know if he got the right spot or not. Had the wound been fatal? Had it been more painful than need be? Would she be strong enough to take it?

She had to be. He wouldn't forgive himself if she wasn't.

He likes how soft and smooth her skin is. He had fantasized about scarring her. About making her feel pain in ways that even he surprised himself with.

But never like this.

"Make it real" she had told him. "Make it painful. Make it purposeful. Make it merciless." Her eyes were dead serious.

She didn't so much as hiss as he stabbed her. Didn't even grimmace as he slid the blade from one side to the other. She did dig her nails into his arm as he twisted his wrist.

Too much.

It had all been too much.

She knew it was all to play innocent. For the both of them.

Her injuries and his shaken state would clear them from all sins.

But it hurt.

By God, how did it hurt.

Adam had never been attached to anything in life. Just to her. Only to her.

He knew love to be pain.

While he ways thought it meant to hate your other half, he now realized that it actually meant that if Audrey died in that operating table, he too, would die.

How to live without her now? That, he didn't know.

He didn't want to.

Without her, nothing would ever be worth it.

Not even his freedom.

He would confess if she died.

He would claim he killed her out of madness.

He would confess to all they did, but leave her out of it.

Her descent was his fault. So it would all fall on him.

The doctor tapped his shoulder. When had he dropped his head? Why was everything so blurry?

"She's stable." He said, taking off his mask and glasses. "You can see her now, but she won't wake up until later."

Adam shot up. His line of sight reached the doctors forehead. That didn't matter.

He slipped past the man, wide steps that felt too slow even though the world was moving so fast past him.

He saw her through the glass door. Asleep. But not like he knew she slept. Eyes too still.

He walked in soundlessly, never tearing his eyes from her sleeping face.

It wasn't sleep. It wasn't a coma. It wasn't rest.

"Audrey" he called. Why was his voice shaking? Why was her name a whisper in his lips?

She didn't respond. Not with her voice. But he knew she heard him. Her brows reacted to her name.

He didn't feel his fall. Just a sharp pain in his knees before his forehead touched something soft. Then he cried.

No sound left him. The occasional sob or hiccup here and there just served to provide more fuel for his tears.

He didn't know how long he cried there by her side. It must've been a long time.

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After the movie

Van Helsing: Orlock was not one of strategy. Unlike Dracula, he would slap and bite with so little a provocation.

Jack: But like Dracula, he controlled a swarm of rats

Van Helsing: Yes

Van Helsing: That is true on both Counts

🥁

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fucking hate it when the stuff everybody says "actually works" does actually work.

hate exercising and realizing i've let go of a lot of anxiety and anger because i've overturned my fight-or-flight response.

hate eating right and eating enough and eating 3 times a day and realizing i'm less anxious and i have more energy

hate journaling in my stupid notebook with my stupid bic ballpoint and realizing that i've actually started healing about something once i'm able to externalize it

hate forgiving myself hate complimenting myself more often hate treating myself with kindness hate taking a gratitude inventory hate having patience hate talking to myself gently

hate turning my little face up to the sun and taking deep breaths and looking at nature and grounding myself and realizing that i feel less burdened and more hopeful, more actually-here, that i am able to see the good sides of myself more clearly, that i am able to see not only how far i have to grow - but also how much growth i have already done & how much of my life i truly fill with light and laughter and love

horrible horrible horrible. hate it but i'm gonna do it tho