#spooky read

[keirahknightley]

Crimson Peak (2015) 🎬 Guillermo del Toro

+ IMDb trivia

[someofusarequeer]

Stayed this thick ass gothic ghost romance story and I only 50 pages in but I'm eating it up.

[egophiliac]

buckle up lads we're going BACK INTO THE BOOK

[mayblueflamesreign]

Outside an unkempt, manufactured home, a nearby tree with spindly branches seemed to reach out, grasping for the moon. The fog rolling through the air outside bore a curious, smoky scent, mixed with dead leaves and dampened earth. It smelled like Halloween.

The Harvest Moon was hanging on a wide, dark canvas, just half past three in the morning. There were no stars visible outside of Toby’s bedroom window. No chance of a wish to protect him, no Peter Pan to whisk him away to a world of play. However, the moon conveyed its message well enough to compensate for the silent vigil: She was coming.

This time, nobody was left to argue.

Inside Toby’s bedroom, from corner to corner, the naked walls seemed to lean inwards. All of the stacked books and action figures barricading the windows didn’t help either; they veiled the walls with their looming shadows and the moon’s dim, amber glow. The indoor lights had already died some time ago thanks to an unpaid electric bill, which was only more collateral damage following the disappearances of his parents and uncle.

Toby wondered, his gut sickening at the unbidden thought, what CPS would do later in the day when they arrived to claim him. Would they find him? Would they care enough to ask around for answers?

A police report was crinkled between his fingers, prepared with sufficient details for such an investigation.

The officer who’d overseen the case had tiny writing deeply pressed into the pages with dark blue ink. Cold with dread, Toby needed no reminders of the report’s content. He needed the man who’d written it.

Detective Stefan Larento

You won’t believe one word of this report, but it’s happened, and will continue to happen in similar fashion. And you are going to see that there’s a fate worse than death.

September the 23rd, 2022

7:53 am

911 dispatch ��� B&E in NE Pensacola

The initial complaint came from Emma Sheffer (70 y) who’d been preparing to host an auction via video call. The auction was to take place in her garage. She says that she was unable to hear any disturbances from there and had no idea there was anyone in her home until ten minutes before the bidding was meant to start. Ms. Sheffer went into her house for a cup of coffee and found Baylee Knight (13 y) in the living room watching TV.

As I took Knight into custody, she explained that breaking into Ms. Sheffer’s residence had been the condition of a dare by some of her friends.

The possibility occurred to me that Knight had not acted alone. When I asked her if she’d had any friends come with her, she appeared nervous and didn’t answer. I lowered my voice to tell her I knew she wasn’t the ringleader, and that she shouldn’t waste her future for someone unwilling to protect her.

A downcast Knight replied that she already had no future, but looked up past the staircase. I asked Ms. Sheffer whether she kept any valuables upstairs and in which rooms; alarmed, she informed me that a collection of designer bags by Demelza Robbins was stored inside her bedroom closet. I went upstairs with Knight, and found Lowan Percetti (14 y) trying to escape through the window with one of the bags.

I apprehended the second suspect, who quickly turned on a third one he identified as Noah Zoro (age u/k). Once Knight and Percetti were both detained safely in the squad vehicle, I turned my focus towards finding Zoro. It took a nearly forty minute search before I finally checked the laundry room and found him hiding inside the dryer. His statement to me before I took him to join the others indicated that both his parents are deceased, and his relatives seem to have abandoned him.

Conclusion:

I’m not sentimental enough to use flowery expressives, but I wish I could do more to help. As I hold little to no experience with kids, I’m resigned to calling in CPS and letting them take this case from there. Nothing was broken or taken from the residence of Ms. Emma Sheffer. With luck, these kids will face minimal charges and receive the benefits of court-mandated counseling.

-Det. Stefan Larento

Toby blinked repeatedly in the empty darkness, as if by doing so he could blink it away; as though he could blink his tears back into their ducts and somehow reverse time.

Then he allowed himself to remember the rest – because Larento’s report covered more than just the beginning. Why the detective hadn’t turned it in, Toby still couldn’t quite grasp. He’d merely discovered it that morning stuffed in his mailbox sans envelope.

…a fate worse than death.

The name Demelza was curiously emboldened with black pen over the blue. Demelza was the key in this testament manifested from Larento’s tomb.

Demelza Robbins was called eccentric, a token of appreciation for her contributions to the fashion of high society. Lower-born company deemed her something else entirely, something she’d earned with her quiet, intense hatred of men and the numerous disappearances of those who crossed her path.

The children even had a rhyme for her:

Moonlit beaches don’t scare me

Miss Demelza, set me free!

Deep down, everyone knew and was just too afraid to say: Demelza Robbins was a witch.

In the case that this document never makes it to Captain Maya Valentine’s desk, it will mean that Toby Holloway is reading it right now – and it means I’ve failed. I’m sorry.

Teeeer! A harsh scraping noise from outside startled Toby out of his reverie, plunging his senses into ice-cold terror. Toby’s shallow breath shook hard in his lungs as he waited.

I never took Noah Zoro into the station after he told me his uncle had disappeared without so much as a missing persons report filed-this in itself was not the reason I brought in Baylee and Lowan but not him. I didn’t bring Noah in because he revealed himself as a key witness for several of the ongoing investigations. He would only talk to me if I could protect him.

First, we went to Indigo Beach, where he’d been living alone since May of 2022-surviving off of the profits from his break-ins. Baylee Knight and Lowan Percetti never roped him into stealing anything – it was always the other way around. Apparently he’d told Knight and Percetti that Emma Sheffer’s house was the score of a lifetime.

“The score of a lifetime?” I interrupted him. “Who even talks like that?”

Noah scowled. “I do! Now listen -.”

“How old are you anyway?” I wondered out loud.

Ignoring me, Noah cast his tale. “Uncle Redd had always been nervous about this place. We didn’t have money, so there wasn’t much choice in that. But he hated the smell of the Atlantic waters, and the noise of seagulls screaming. Most of all, he didn’t like being so close to her.”

“Who?” I asked as he pointed towards a cliff built up from the sand.

Noah hesitated, and I sensed he was going to reveal a mind-blowing truth. Or, more likely, an obvious lie.

“Miss Demelza.”

Demelza Robbins? My mind echoed the name, unsure that we were indeed talking about the overpriced purse designer. People in this town thinks she eats babies and communes with the Devil. However, I didn’t live near them. In my opinion witches were either Wiccans or trick-or-treaters in costumes. Anything else sounded completely absurd to my ears.

“Okay,” I said finally. “We’re going to the precint.”

“I’m telling the truth,” Noah snapped. “Demelza did something to my uncle! I saw it!”

“Saw what?”

Noah fell silent. He still didn’t trust me, and I didn’t have time for this.

“Sorry kid.”

He glared. “Don’t ‘sorry kid’ – you’re what? Ten years older than me?”

Then he was about twelve years old. I made a mental note – he looked much younger than that.

“You have an uncle,” I tried. “How about an aunt?”

He shook his head. “Aunt Nelly left awhile back to look for Uncle Redd, and she’s still gone.”

I hesitated. “Do you think Demelza Robbins did something to her too?”

“Maybe. I don’t know yet.” He seemed so downcast, and I couldn’t blame him at all.

“Alright, I’ll look into it – if you agree to tell me your real name. Can’t do much without it.”

The kid’s jaw hit the ground. “How did you know?”

I snorted. “One Piece fan. “Roronoa Zoro is the best, hands down. So, am I talking to your neighbor or not?”

The kid raised his eyebrows. “You’re not nervous?”

“I don’t believe in witches.”

“Do you believe in serial killers?”

“I believe in guns,” I assured him.

He looked uncertain. Then, “My name is Toby Holloway.”

I nodded my appreciation. “Thanks Toby. Don’t leave town.”

As I went to the door, I could have sworn he rolled his eyes.

I really should’ve left it alone, but I’ll admit that I was curious. So then. Off I went to see the Dark Artist of Pensacola.

Toby had been waiting on Larento’s return ever since. Now he feared the worst.

Fear. It was just an illusion to protect oneself from danger. Nothing shameful about it, nor anything necessary for this moment in time.

Darkness. Scratches behind the walls. Tall, shadowy figures in the moonlight.

They wouldn’t hurt him. They couldn’t hurt him.

But Toby was terrified of the stillness and silence.

Demelza probably preferred to advance when everything else was stopped. It made her victims’ screams louder for her to enjoy.

Toby wondered if Larento had screamed in the end.

A crisp ocean breeze blew into his little home suddenly, blasting his bedroom window off its hinges. The wait was over.

Toby, came a soft whisper. Toby. Come home with me.

No, he shuddered.

Toby, it said again. Don’t you want to know about your detective friend? I can show you.

“No,” Toby whispered again, all of his pleading useless.

The room brightened, and Toby blinked at the scene. Larento was knocking on the crest-white painted front door to Demelza’s beach house.

A statuesque figure with bouncy ebony tresses opened it.

Larento immediately devolved into a giddy high school senior. Clearly he’d been expecting Scary Granny Witch Demelza.

Young, hot, fashion icon witch Demelza was going to eat him up.

“Ah, hello?” Larento coughed. “Demelza Robbins?”

For a moment, Toby saw Demelza’s eyes narrow as they did at the sight of any man, and then they lifted in a politely puzzled expression.

“Yes?” she replied, a slight pitch in her voice hinting at a faded British accent.

“Hi, I’m Detective Larento with the Pensacola P.D.”

Toby groaned nervously at the transparent question mark Larento had left at the end of his introduction. Apparently Demelza’s cheerleader body was costing him his certainty that he was a cop.

“Did you find him? My lost dog, I mean?”

Demelza owned a dog?

Larento hesitated. “Ma’am, I’m sorry about your dog, but I’m here on another matter.”

Her face fell with a practiced grace. “Oh. What can I do for you then, Detective?”

Larento hesitated, and Toby knew he was the one who was lost. The poor sap must have been a virgin.

“Is it all right if I come in?”

Demelza flicked her long eyelashes in wide-eyed surprise. “Of course.”

NO! Toby’s heart sped into a frenzy.

Once Larento and Demelza were settled at the kitchen table with a teapot in the middle, Demelza took full charge of the conversation.

“This is a special leaf blend of mine,” she gestured at the teapot. “But you don’t need to drink it. I know there are words whispered about me around town.”

Larento coughed again, and Demelza offered him a cup.

Then the idiot drank the tea.

“How does that make you feel?” he asked, now a therapist rather than a police officer.

Demelza shrugged. “Makes perfect sense. I cross the pond and wind up in a fairly superstitious part of the country. But I don’t make my livelihood selling fortunes and reading palms, Mr. Larento.”

Larento ignored the drop of his title and surmised, “You make purses.”

Demelza laughed, and it echoed through Toby’s veins as he watched the scene play out.

She sobered. “I hope to branch out and create more than handbags eventually. But yes.”

“It’s an impressive career.”

“I owe it all to the people who helped me get this far. But you didn’t come out here to discuss fashion accessories.”

“No, in fact, I came to ask you about a man named Redd Rivers.”

Demelza’s dark brown eyes flashed cold for a moment. Larento must have seen it, because he continued, “His disappearance and the subsequent vanishing of his wife left their nephew without a guardian. I need to find them before he’s placed in the foster system.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” she murmured. “Why come to me about this?”

“Because, according to Toby Holloway, you were the last person Rivers saw before dropping off the face of the world.”

“Hmm.” Demelza seemed nonplussed. “Fair enough.”

“Do you have any idea where he went?”

Demelza smiled. Only smiled. “Poor Toby,” she said at last. “He has quite an imagination, doesn’t he? Did he tell you the locals’ running theory that I turn those who cross me into handbags?”

“Please answer the question, Ma’am.” When Demelza did not respond, Larento asked the most intelligent question used so far in this “interrogation.” “Did you…turn Redd Rivers into a bag, ma’am?”

Demelza grinned wide, and the basket containing all of Toby’s hopes fell to the wayside. “You’re cute. I think you should stay,” she cackled at him, the scene reverting back to Toby’s bedroom. Demelza’s cackling still reverberated from the walls.

“What did you do to him?”

For the first time tonight, Toby felt bold. For a brief thirty seconds, he’d felt like he could finally have an actual friend in Larento.

“I let him go.”

Toby whirled around to see Demelza standing at his door. She had a tartan handbag slung around her arm – the one that was left behind after she was finished enchanting his uncle. Toby gulped.

“Yeah. I’m guessing he just went home to binge One Piece. What about this report?”

“Oh that?” she waved a dismissive hand. “He knows what your fate was all along Toby. To be an orphan, abandoned and unloved. He could have fought for you, but he mailed off a half-baked apology and abandoned you instead.” Her eyes flashed in the dark. “Just like Nelly and Redd. Just like mommy and daddy. They all could have had a gift to cherish but they wasted it.”

Then it hit Toby, bringing a lightning sharp shock to his senses, making him sick to his stomach.

The real reason Demelza was ridding the people around him, for the purpose of her claim – the one thing Larento hadn’t been able to do anything about.

Demelza Robbins’s lost dog.

“Mistress,” he remembered, disbelieving.

Demelza’s smile returned, twisted in malicious amusement as Toby dropped to all fours.

“Let’s be a good boy and get going. I have a new bag to pick up for my collection.”

THE END

[mythos05reviews]

2.4/5 stars

I will start by saying that I really tried hard to like this book. I read this when I was in high school but dropped it. This time I picked up both the audiobook and the physical book in order to make sure I actually finished. (Sometimes my brain simply cannot compute an audiobook.) It took 2–3 days (I had to pick up the book again today because I already forgot everybody's names. I lost the sheet with all their names/info.), but I was able to get through it. I've only read a couple of Stephen King's books, and by far this is my least favorite one. The only reason that I finished so quickly was because I did not want to have to deal with dwelling on it any longer.

Things I liked

- The narrator did an amazing job of adding emotion and making this long book bearable. - Evie was an interesting character to follow as well as the rats. - Norcross's backstory was actually complex and interesting but that isn't transferred much into how he acts as an adult.

Things I Disliked:

- There are too many characters to keep track of. I ended up having to annotate the character's name, chapter they were introduced in, & a little bit of info on them because I kept having to go back. (This could just be a me problem.) Some characters didn't seem to be anything more than a series of stereotypes. Others were given too much thought to not even end up becoming relevant to the plot. - As mentioned before, I do believe this could have been shorter. I do feel like certain parts could have been cut out. Such as giving too much attention to characters that contribute nothing to the plot or worldbuilding. - The pacing was driving me insane. It went so slowly, but we were bouncing through so many different people's POVs. Just when I was actually getting interested in what happened BOOM, another person's POV, and its back to square one trying to remember the last time they were mentioned because sometimes you need that to understand what's actually going on. - The ENDING just sucked in my opinion. It was rather predictable and at that point I was glad I was done. I'm actually proud of myself for getting through the full 23 hours of the audiobook. Even if I took so many breaks.

To me, this wasn't scary at all. It had a good premise but a bad execution. I would be very hesitant to recommend this book. I would have to know the person really well and know that this is exactly what they wanted to read in order to do so.

[vicioustoker]

jon getting offended everytime he basically gets called an old man will never not be funny

[from-the-gray-spaces]

14 days until autumn ❤️❤️❤️

[esthers-wine]

There is magic in the night, when pumpkins glow by moonlight.

[spookyasmr]

[adharagranley-writer]

it's october. it's autumn. it's time for long walks, reading sessions, writing, baking cookies, carrying books in tote bags, listening to soft music as it rains, more reading and more writing.

[cat-cosplay]

Happy National Read A Book Day...

[jeeaark]

The End

Never had my max level 12 ass been more humbled than trying to complete that Nightmare of a Haunted House Quest during the Patch 0 days. Back when those friggin' cursed skulls were indestructible and hurt.

Every other Act 3 quest: Full-on Limitless Confidence, No strategy?Not fully rested? No worries, we're practically gods.

This Artist quest????: Put the fear of TPK back into me. What a wild Quest. I loved it. Shame they nerfed it. Truly the Ultimate DND experience.

Was the last quest I completed before the finale. Fitting to have the last reward be a painting of you. Real nice of the game to allow you to acquire a permanent physical copy of the 'old' you, just moments before becoming the 'new' you. Something real to hold onto instead of only having the memories of who you were before. A tribute to your past and a reminder of 'who are you?' in case you started to...forget. Fucked me up y'all, had to turn the bittersweet thought into something more wholesome.

[1980shorrorfilm]

every road i know

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

pairing…ellie williams x gn!reader

in which…ellie thought it was time to solidify your relationship. she might have been wrong.

before you read…inspired by the strangers, minus the killing n stuff. modern day fic. angst with comfort <3

the autumn night is silent, save for the occasional creak of the old miller’s cabin settling into its nighttime routine. you listen to the wind whistling outside, through the tall pines surrounding the small wooden home. 

it’s a lonely town, the nearest house a few miles down the road, something vastly different from your shared apartment in the city. 

ellie started bringing you here after joel had let it collect endless dust and cobwebs, the woman cleaning it all up for you. whenever life got too busy, chaotic, or hard, this way your getaway. peace. just you and her and the nature that surrounded you.

now, it feels as though it’s purgatory. 

the fireplace flickers softly, its glow dancing on the wooden walls, but the warmth couldn’t seem to comfort you. not right now. ellie sits in front of the flames, her silhouette outlined by the orange gentle light.

she has yet to utter a single word to you. the car ride here was silent. even the radio on mute, because ellie couldn’t find the simple strength to turn it up.

the moment is replaying in her mind, over and over, the sad smile you had given her burned into her memory. the thing she’s had anxiety about for the past month. proposing, to you.

the dark velvet box holding the special ring, now lying on the coffee table beside her. a stark reminder of the event.

you’re sat on the couch, chewing your lip, a rose petal in your hand. it’s soft, you find yourself stroking the smooth flower. they cover, nearly, the whole cabin. ellie had thrown the petals around before you had arrived together, trying to make it appear as romantic as possible. 

it’s not her strong suit, her appreciation toward you shown in much different ways than typical lovey-dovey things you see on television, but tonight it felt right. long candles garnish whatever surface she could put them on, yellow and smelling like vanilla. they’re not lit. 

she assumed she’d spark them when you came back from the long day you had. one that started with your favorite breakfast, ellie waking up extra early to make it as perfect as she could. and she did, you made sure to compliment her repeatedly.

then she took you downtown, viewing places you rarely visited, spending more time admiring you than the other pretty views. what occupied most of your time, was going to a museum she took you to on your first date, reminiscing on how awkward you two were compared to now.

she swears that’s her favorite place, and not just because she’s a nerd, because she now associates it with you. 

ellie had took you out to dinner, to your favorite restaurant, hardly eating and claiming she just wasn’t hungry. that was a lie, she just didn’t think she could keep food down. her nerves were washing over her, multiplying when you had finished, and you took a walk near the river, beneath the red trees that blew softly above you.

you had felt her pause in place, holding her warm hand, and you thought maybe the tie had come undone on her sneakers. she had washed them the day prior until her fingers pruned, you found it odd for ellie but didn’t say anything. but that wasn’t the problem. she stared at you like she saw a ghost, and it worried you.

you almost thought this was the end, she was about to tell you those four dreaded words. we need to break up. oh, the idea terrorizes you. that, however, also wasn’t it.

she had whispered inaudible words to herself, then mumbling ‘okay, okay, okay.’

you thought the woman was breaking before you, concern in your eyes, holding her hand tight. then she gulped, trying to get out the rehearsed words that seemed to vanish the longer she stood in your presence. 

how much you mean to her. from the very moment you two got paired up for a project that she insisted she’d do all the work for, but you fought back, finding yourself in her bedroom the entire week, the girl studying you more than the work laid out before her.

she found herself by your side all the time afterward.

she needed to be by your side. 

she doesn’t know how she lived before you, and if she could live without you— no, insisting she could not live with you. she simply wouldn’t have the will. waking up to a bed you didn’t occupy, not hearing your genuine laughter to her most idiotic jokes, not being able to hold you when you experienced the hardest day of your life.

she couldn’t have that. she needs this…you and her, to last forever. so, she asked those four words that you weren’t prepared for. will you marry me?

to which, you didn’t say yes.

you couldn’t. you love ellie, more than you could ever put into words, you swear on your life that you do, and it didn’t at all reflect your feelings for her. you were just…paralyzed. by fear, uncertainty, and the weight of expectations that you couldn’t hold up to for her. every single insecurity, hitting you at once, in the worst moment it possibly could.

you had said her name in a weak whisper, and ellie gulped, realizing what was happening. a tear slipped from your eye, that she quickly wiped away, reassuring you it was okay. that you’re okay. putting you before her, a habit of hers. bits of her broken heart being blown away in the cool wind that hits you, while she cradles yours. 

you walked to the car together in silence, a suffocating fog. a silence that seemed to last forever.

the tension between you two is almost palpable, both of your minds are currently a whirlwind of heavy emotions. a gentle crackle of the fire and ellie shifting in place, makes you finally turn your attention to her. “ellie,” you say her name softly, voice strained as you finally break the unbearable quiet. “can we talk?”

her gaze remains on the fiery flames, her shoulders tense. “we don’t have to,” she replies quietly, “i get it.”

“i don’t think you do,” you lowly say, heart aching at the mere thought of all the negativity running through her precious head, doubts about herself and your relationship. that’s the last thing you could ever want.

ellie swallows thickly, “it doesn’t matter.”

you watch her get up, turning her back to you as she leaves the room. your eyes trail her to the kitchen before you follow her. she doesn’t glance at you as you lean against the nearby counter, watching her grab an expensive champagne bottle. 

you assume she bought it just for tonight, she wouldn’t drink it any other time. she won’t even touch a glass of wine. she pops it open, pouring it into one of the two glasses beside it. “i don’t…” you begin to say as she hovers over the other glass, ellie nodding in response. you’re afraid if you drink it you’ll throw up all the nerves inside your system. 

“i got your favorite ice cream…if you want that instead,” ellie mentions, tapping her finger on the glass, “went to like…3 different stores. couldn’t find the brand you like.”

she ends the sentence with an attempt at a laugh, finding it so silly now. all the effort, for what? humiliation? pity? she sips on the disgusting drink like it would make her feel better. the only other thing that helps her in trying times, is you; and that’s not exactly possible in this scenario.

“do you…” she pauses, staring at the liquid as she swirls it around, “do you want this…us?”

“of course i do,” you answer her without hesitation, taking a step closer to her, but still out of reach. “it’s not that, ellie,” you tell her, trying to figure out how to inform her it’s you and not her, without sounding like a poor cliche overused excuse. 

“it’s just…we’re young…im scared you’re making a mistake,” your voice wavers near the end, ashamed to admit such a thing, that you are her mistake. ellie looks at you like you just spit in her face. she doesn’t know how to interpret the comment, she slightly feels insulted that you would think that she’s making a ‘mistake.’ 

this isn’t putting a shirt on inside out. this isn’t forgetting to turn the light off when you leave a room. it’s not tripping over your step. it’s her committing herself to you, after five beautiful years attached to you, something she wants hundreds more years of, if that were possible. nothing about that is a mistake.

you’re the love of her life. cementing that is not a fucking mistake. 

“is that how you feel?” she flips the script, putting the spotlight on you, feeling like you’re burning beneath it at the accusation. “what?” you whisper, “n-no…no ellie.”

you can’t read her expression, she’s swallowing the rest of her drink, blankly staring ahead. 

she ignores your response, “i’ll drive us home in the morning. you should get some sleep.”

she turns away, placing her glass carefully in the sink, resting there for a moment. your eyes are boring into the back of her head as if you could read the thoughts inside it. so many bad thoughts. 

you push yourself forward, taking a few quiet steps to her. you plant your feet behind her, wrapping your arms around her body. her breathing is slow, her figure painfully stiff, hugging a tree and not your person. so solid despite the endless embraces where she would melt into you.

you murmur her name, holding her tighter. 

ellie can’t resist you.

her hands reach for yours, resting against the center of her torso. her fingers brush against you softly, her breath hitching slightly, before letting out a sigh she’s held in for hours. 

just for this moment, the tension settles beneath the old floorboards of the cabin, giving you air to breathe instead of holding in. your hug is so tender, ellie could be lured to sleep by it. and her body is so warm, you’d rather die than pull away.

you wish it could last forever, and the hours prior could be forgotten. 

then her phone rings from her back pocket, vibrating against you, and she shifts. you let go, biting your lip, watching her fish the device out. joel. assumingly calling to congratulate her. ellie wishes she never told him, because fuck, this is going to be awkward. 

“i uh…should take this,” she whispers, not sparing you a glance when she walks away. you hear the front door open, then shut. you can’t help but walk back into the living room, standing before the window and peeking at ellie, who sat on the porch steps. 

you can’t see her face, her head down, a glow from a cigarette, and grey smoke surrounding her figure. it’s clearly not a happy conversation, there was no sugarcoating what had happened. it pains you. 

you turn back around, following the rose petals that scattered the floor, all the way down the hall, and stopping at the bathroom. you open the door, turning the light on, eyes falling on the several small candles on the edges of the bathtub. red, grey, and purple, they decorated the space. 

ellie really tried to make tonight special.

you stand idly, taking a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, staring at yourself with shame. a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, knowing it did something so drastic, that the only person they love, finds it hard to look at them. 

you quickly turn away. 

you run the bath and wait, tugging your top and pants off, kicking them to the side. you strip naked when it fills up completely, steam radiating from the water. you step in, adjusting to the high temperature, before sinking into it. it almost burns you, but not in a way that you mind. you just don’t care right now. 

ellie is the only thing on your mind. you wonder if she’s talking about you, openly questioning where your relationship lies, if she thinks it’s even going to last after today. 

before you know it, a single tear is falling down your face.

you hug your knees, turning your head and laying your cheek against them. you stare out the open bathroom door, to the wood paneled wall, a framed photo of a deer hung on it.

you forget to blink, spacing out, not noticing the creaking of the front door or the floor. not until ellie is within your view, pausing in the doorway, looking down at you. you’re crying to yourself.

her expression softens, not saying anything when she joins you, kneeling beside the bathtub and touching your face. her thumbs wipe the salty tears from beneath your eyes, but they don’t stop. 

“i’m scared, ellie,” you say just above a whisper, ellie only hears you because of how quiet the cabin is. besides the repetitive dripping from the sink. “i’m gonna fail you…” you continue, your voice now giving up on you, “scared’m gonna ruin this…ruin us…you’re so good, ellie— i just —i couldn’t say yes.”

you choke into a sob, her green eyes now glistening with unshed tears. “oh baby,” she says so softly, giving you the time to process your emotions, to let the tears fall while she holds you. 

“i can’t…” she stops, gulping and sighing, “i can’t change what you think…but i can promise you that nothing could ever change my mind about you.”

her grip on you is firm, reaffirming, as she continues to speak, “we can wait…i’m willing to wait forever for you. i will show you no matter what happens, i will still love you— i will always love you. i just needed…need you to know that.”

very faintly, your lips twitch upwards slightly, ellie mirroring you the moment she notices. “you’re enough for me,” she says, “just you. that’s all i want.”

ellie is, unfortunately, right; it doesn’t change the tainted mindset you have. that, however, has nothing to do with her. you don’t doubt the things she tells you, you’ve never felt more love from someone in your whole life, and you know for a fact that you never will.

and that’s why it brings you relief, to listen to her, understanding her point of view rather than your own, and the cruel demon on your shoulder whispering harsh words into your ear. 

ellie williams is the angel. 

it’s not the first time she’s eased the anxiety taunting you, and it will not be the last. she will always be there, rain or shine, you pushing her away or letting her in. she truly means what she says. you’re enough for her. and soon, you will accept that for yourself.

“i really want to hug you right now.”

ellie chuckles, a lightness in the air as she gets up, grabbing a beige towel. you stand, letting her wrap it around you, shivering at the coolness in the air. not caring about the water droplets still coating your body, ellie’s arms are quickly around you, her palm on the back of your head, cradling it gently.

you instantly feel warm again, at peace.

after the moment of serenity ends, ellie is leading you to the bedroom. she grabs your pajamas from your still-packed bag, letting you put them on while she does the same. your eyes fall on her pale back, watching her throw a white tee on, looking away when she turns her head at you. 

“was thinking about leaving at 8…wanna beat the traffic,” she says, hoping the statement doesn’t go back to making things awkward. just in case, she adds, “can stop at that pancake place you love.”

you can’t ignore the glum undertones of the suggestion, but you still give her a smile, barely modding your head.

you sit in bed, ellie exiting the room to turn off every light in the lonely cabin, leaving you with your thoughts. you hate it. thinking about how happy the two of you were coming here, compared to you leaving. you don’t even want to leave. you want to shut out the rest of the world, but more importantly, your mind.

how differently things would be right now, if you could just do that.

your eyes meet hers when she enters the room again, and you debate what you’re about to ask her. you can’t help it. “can i see it?”

“hm?” “the ring.”

ellie looks at you, freezing for a moment, stuttering, “y-yea…sure.”

again, she exits the room, grabbing the velvet small box on the table, the one she avoided even sparing a glance at just a minute ago. then she jogs back, scratching the back of her neck. she’s nervous as she approaches you, placing it in your open hands, like it’s a baby. 

it’s the first time you’re getting a decent look at it, having been unable to observe it during the moment, and it’s beautiful. it’s simple, yet the green sapphire is so elegant, resembling the way ellie’s eyes look beneath the sun. you smile at it. 

“i…can’t return it…if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“i’m not,” you tell her, “it’s gorgeous, ellie.”

you don’t want to give it back to her. it feels…so right, in your possession, that you can’t help but nervously slide it down your finger. there’s a bittersweet smile on your face at how perfect it is. how when you look at it, ellie is the first thing to come to your mind. 

your lover, for eternity. your lover that swears to you, that your need for her is as mutual as her need for you, no matter the circumstances, it is permanent. that your worries are just that. worries— self-doubt, and bitter thoughts about yourself, that are only present in the moment. they won't last forever. not like you and her.

with hesitance, you take it off, avoiding her gaze when you give it back to her. “i’ll be ready,” you promise, your finger oddly feeling so lonely despite only wearing it for a minute. “i will…i will be,” you find yourself mumbling, ellie getting closer and grabbing your hands.

“hey, i meant what i said,” her thumbs stroke your skin, reminding you once more, “i can wait forever for you.”

and she means it.

[galina]

Picked up some spooky reads from the library this week 🍁🍂🎃

[halloweenisallyear]

What is your favorite book to read around Halloween?

[fairytaleprincessart]