sitting on the bottom of a boat loading ramp with your grandfather just after the stars come out. he shines his flashlight out over the swamp to show you all the alligators resting on the banks. you can see the little bit of devil leftover in their eyes when the light’s on ‘em. gator-fire, he tells you. you turn to ask him why they’re so bright just as the last truck pulls out of the gravelly lot behind you, illuminating his worn face for just a second. his eyes flash red-orange in the headlights.
with a little practice, you can tell your future by crushing a mosquito onto your skin and reading the portents in the blot of your own blood
you go out on the gulf one day in the rickety little fishing boat you’ve had for years, the one streaked with rusty fishblood stains inside and too old and ugly to sell. you’re a few beers deep when the dolphins show up, dancing around and splashing, giving you a show in return for a handful of your baitfish. they stay long after they’ve finished eating, slapping your boat with their tails and spitting water at each other. you toss them the rest of your bait an hour later, chalking your empty buckets up to bad luck. you don’t notice the shadow that’s been circling the boat all morning, kept at a distance by the anxious dolphins and larger than any shark could be.
there are old men with small coffees and pastel shirts who skip church to sit in the park on sunday mornings. they try to teach you to play dominoes every time your mother takes you there. you’re not very good, and they chastise you kindly but urgently in spanish as they take your worn stone pieces and change them around to help you lose less awfully. they sweat into their straw hats and you catch the pained, frightened looks on their faces when you leave them without really having grasped what they tried to teach you. it’s almost like they need you to learn. like there are higher stakes than the pennies they loan you to gamble with.
there are different men in the park every weekend, always strangers. you should have paid attention.
never fall asleep on the ground. the kudzu creep will find you and take you.
you’re driving to work early one morning, the acrid smell of smoke from a controlled burn on the northbound side of the road digging at your eyes. you’re headed south. you slow down to let a rabbit run in front of your car, out of the safe green forest on your side and toward the blaze on the other, disappearing into the smoky underbrush. rabbits aren’t too smart, so you think nothing of it until you have to brake for a family of deer, three more rabbits, and a tortoise the size of a manhole cover to cross in front of you all at once, into the small inferno on the other side. you see a black bear follow their path in your rearview mirror when you can finally start driving again. you pull into the right lane to put a little distance between your car and the safe green forest on your side.
the three a.m. dew in the grass feels good on your feet as you wait for your dog to stop inspecting the darkest corner of your yard. when she yelps suddenly and runs back to you, you assume the rustling and hissing you heard was just a possum, a raccoon, maybe a cat. you’re too tired to get the flashlight and make sure, so you walk back into your house, your bare feet leaving dark red smears on the tile.
tourists feed the alligators when they come, leaving picnic garbage in the waterways and throwing food to them directly. the gators eat, the tourists snap photos and leave, and the people left behind lose dogs and cats and limbs when the beasts are no longer satisfied with hunting, finding themselves more suited to hand-fed sacrifices.
if you don’t like the weather in florida, just cross the street. there’s something strange over there, and it’s definitely worse than the rain.
cassadaga is a spiritualist camp, a town full of psychics and mystics. or it’s a distraction from some other arcane power you’re not supposed to notice. don’t buy anything from the gift shop. don’t take anything with you when you leave.
( sms ) the DEVIL HAS A WHAT?? ( sms ) now i cant stop thinking that it has a british accent.. ( sms ) how does the devil look like?
✉ → hoshi: you read correctly! don’t make me spell to you… ✉ → hoshi: the devil looks handsome. a little bit old, but still handsome ✉ → hoshi: have you seen the originals? or the vampire diaries? those 2 shitty shows? ✉ → hoshi: the devil is in those shows… okay not exactly the devil but close enough
He’s a gentle person by nature, I think, but in the time he was raised and how he needed to be a Tough Guy™, he didn’t really get the chance. He likes dance, he likes art, he likes pretty girls with flowers in their hair. But he doesn’t get to have gentle things, soft things, he doesn’t get those. Until he meets Carla.
And Carla is a spitfire, Carla is outgoing and bold and knows what she wants. She is kind and she believes in him, and by nature, she is full of piss and vinegar just as much as he is, but she’s not afraid to show it. And she pulls him out of that shell a little bit, and he gets up the guts to let all the things he keeps inside out a little bit. That devil-may-care grin of his shines brightest when she’s around, until it’s a permanent fixture on his face.
But she can be very gentle. Touches the back of his hand and leans her head against his shoulder. Cradles his head to her and kisses his forehead. She’s just got a lot of affection in her, and once she meets Stan and they find each other, she has someone to shower it on. Hugs and kisses and giggles, small hands running fingers through his hair and laughing lightly. Carla is gentle with Stan, gives him all kinds of loves and hugs and sweet pieces of affection.
She’s never more gentle than after a boxing match, when he’s worn out and drenched and sweat- which doesn’t bother her. Carla doesn’t care.- and his lip is split and he can’t see out of at least one of his eyes. She leaves feather kisses on the bruises and doesn’t flinch away from the blood. Presses careful fingers to his cheek and smiles at him.
Me: “Yesss Sea Devil is like these two hot Disney villains as a couple I’m so here for that awesomeness how fun how cool I love it otp”
Show: “K but what if I told you that they were sent to New York in the 80s and had to navigate and rearrange their whole lives with this newborn child neither of them were in any way prepared to care for, eventually leading to the child being put in foster care and the two women going their separate ways, despite being the only two people in this entire new world who had been a part of their previous lives?”
Show: “And then EVEN AFTER THAT separation happened, they rebonded like instantly and supported each other and were totally in sync God knows how many years later?”