What are your favorite bands/artists & songs by them
🌟 fleetwood mac - silver springs, gold dust woman, dreams, the chain, i don’t want to know 🌟 stevie nicks - wild heart, some become strangers, gold and braid, outside the rain, edge of seventeen 🌟 aimee mann - ray, deathly, red vines, it’s not safe, goose snow cone 🌟 lorde - white teeth teens, liability, ribs, buzzcut season 🌟 bon iver - re:stacks, holocene, the wolves (act i and ii), blood bank 🌟 daughter - the woods, medicine, run, youth 🌟 sharon van etten - tarifa, i love you but i’m lost, i know 🌟 florence and the machine - what the water gave me, various storms and saints, no light, no light 🌟 tom petty & the heartbreakers - last dance with mary jane, american girl, swingin’, listen to her heart 🌟 laura marling - new romantic, ghosts, my manic and i, blackberry stone
sitting here next to you in bed is right where i need to be. despite implications of different sleep schedules or energy levels, we have all we need. you’ve got your skinny little legs pulled up to your chest and i’m wondering how in the hell do you sleep like that? i’m sure once i’m done with this midnight love note (11:12pm actually), i’ll softly place them back down and wrap your beautiful arms around me like veins of ivy up a brick wall. everything about you is beautiful though. from the tips of your snow white teeth to the bottoms of your little feet pressed firmly on the ground we walk across together. i love you. i love you bottomlessly. like the humpback bridge that makes your stomach do flips. i’m forever flipping and twisting in love with you.
my snow white wakes up with her ravenwing hair in her mouth. my snow white has the first eight buttons undone. everything tastes dry. the air in her lungs is a blizzard.
her mother died screaming, so snow white has given up speaking. her stepmother has become loud enough for the two of them. mirrors echo down hallways. there are makeup stains on the rug. there are makeup stains on the first knight and lead hunter of the royal guard. nobody tells snow white’s father.
snow white has raw hands. snow white smiles like a drop of blood. snow white has eyes that will eat you up.
her stepmother is all long dresses. snow white wears miniskirts. she wears lingerie to bed. she winks and flirts and sings over the scalding soup her stepmother pours her. snow white paints her nails black.
on her twenty-second birthday, she wakes up with a dry mouth and a man in bed beside her, all rippled muscle and scar tissue and soft lips and good at choking. her fingernails have carved her mark on the skin of his back. first knight and hunter of the royal guard.
the stepmother only learns by accident. wakes up furious. in the mirror of his armor she sees herself aging. sees snow white with the ease of her long legs.
chases her step daughter from hall to hall. “what is mine is mine!” she snarls, “i am the fairest of them all!”
snow white sneaks out a back door. she kisses the hunter for good measure, bites his lip hard enough to get blood out of it. he stands there in the doorway, watching her fade into the shadows, his fingers touching the raw space where warm snow white used to fill his mouth.
my snow white is a warrior of a woman. she has every control over the beauty that lives in her bones. she does not run hungry through the woods. she makes herself an angel, a seductress, takes what she has to and gets away with it. when she can, she sleeps with men. their eyes dance with want of her long after she’s left their beds. they whisper her name and try to capture the last of her smell on their sheets. she hunts them. she finds the rich ones and coaxes them out of their diamonds. she calls them her little men. a little horde all to herself. all devoted to the twist of her wrist and that smile that shows nothing but says everything all at once.
the stepmother looks at herself in the mirror of the hunter’s eyes. sees a monster. presses her claws into his breast. tells him to find the princess or she will burn the country until there is nothing left.
snow white hears from the one she calls doc. he is giving her a back rub. he whispers it in her ear. she sits up a little taller. those black eyes dance.
the hunter brings back the heart of a hart. it is bloody and raw. the stepmother eats it in her kitchen hall.
snow white is a name whisper while shuddering with want. snow white is a dagger that wants all, snow white is a wound men ask to befall.
her stepmother, in the morning, belly full of meat, hears through the wires that snow white is still living. someone called dopey let the truth slip, his brain fermented by the sweet of her lips.
a poison apple for a girl who has made herself into the apple blossom and the wasp. her stepmother smiles a black grin. one bite and all of the spite between them will become the perfect weapon. it is dark magic.
my snow white would know this woman in any form, so the stepmother sends the one person she has left: the hunter, with the holes her claws left still healing in his breast. he knocks on her door at midnight. he begs her to take a bite. he tells her of her stepmother’s threat to put the kingdom at risk and because she is kind and gentle and clever - because she is snow white - she sinks her teeth into the skin of it. she knows what will happen.
when she falls down, he carries her back to his hut out in the mountains where his sister lives. he then takes everything he has and walks into the woods and is never seen again. on his bed, snow white is dead.
the sister brings her outside. she calls the women from the village. they stand around her. they speak of the things she has managed. she was born a woman in a world where that gave her nothing. she used her womanhood for power. she used her weakness as strength. she was clever and provocative and she gave everything for people she’d never spoken to. the women join hands. there are better magics, older magics, than the blackest.
snow white does not rise from the other realm quite whole. her eyes are now completely black, all pupil. those lips are a red that hungers. her teeth are too sharp and her voice is like thunder.
she gasps awake there, on the floor of a forest. she is weakened. when the women leave, the sister takes care of her for weeks and weeks. spoon feeds her, even though snow white will not eat. wraps her in blankets. holds her hands when the shaking memory of death suddenly enters snow white’s brainstem.
on a day that is grey, out rides snow white with a small woman in tow. on a night that is midnight blue, up rides snow white with a smile and a yawning desire she cannot quell.
she finds her stepmother sleeping on a couch with hair in her mouth. there are men at her feet.
snow white eats.
when their ribs are empty and snow white is queen, the white of her eyes starts to come back until she is completely clean. on her arm is a small woman who brought her back to life and snow white reigns supreme.
While I have some scary incidents that happened throughout
my younger life, this one has probably stuck with me the most.
remember when I was a little boy, and my parents used to live in this crummy
apartment somewhere in Cleveland, Ohio. I reminisce to the days of the constant
smell of mildew and mothballs, as my parents lived in a pigsty of clothes and
old trash. They’re not bad people, no, they’re just not the cleanest in the
parents room had one TV, one bed, a near empty dresser, and the rest of the
dresser’s clothes scattered on the floor. They had decent jobs: My mom was a
clerk at at this big grocery store that had hundreds of people storm in a day,
and my dad worked as a valet for this fancy hotel, so he always got good tips.
just that, my family never cared much for buying furniture, or anything that
would liven up our home, so we stayed in that pigsty for a year. Wasn’t the
greatest of my childhood memories. But, not because of the ugly environment, or
the tiny, but effective smell of dirty clothes and a hint of fruity air
freshener. I mean, the mixture of those smells made the room smell slightly of
rotten fruit. It wasn’t those things at all, in fact, I didn’t even mind the
smell that much.
it wasn’t any of those. It was the bathroom that terrified me. I remember being
at a height where I could just see a tiny spec of my head when I walked past
the mirror, and seeing a black shadow sitting in the corner. I was too short to
see the full figure, and when I would do a quick jump up to get a glance, it’d
On days when my parents were alone in their rooms, and I would be left
alone in the other side of the apartment, I’d go to the bathroom to go pee and
see that the mirror would be fogged up like someone had just got done taking a
shower. Even the heat you feel basking around after the shower was present. But
I specifically remember my parents not even using the bathroom that day, as
both of them were most likely napping after a long shift. I mean, even if they
had used it, they didn’t take showers in the evening.
always felt like I was being watched, but not by a bad presence. But rather a
presence… Of comfort. I never felt scared when I felt this sense overwhelm
me, rather I’d just smile and go back to playing with my Tonka truck or
whatever I was doing. The reason I’d never feel worried, is because I was just
a tyke then, and never took a second chance to think that a sudden change of
emotion in a room would be something horrible.
I had a feeling that warm presence wasn’t the only one nested in our apartment.
Sometimes I’d watch Looney Tunes in my room with my tiny little television, and
feel a cold chill go up my spine and I’d feel like something wasn’t right. When
this feeling happened, I would usually run to my mom and dad and hang out with
them instead, watching game shows and occasionally looking out their open door,
nervous. But I never saw anything suspicious.
Title: Hurts Like Hell Fandom: The Walking Dead Pairing: Rick x Michonne, Glenn x Maggie Rating: PG-13 Summary: Negan comes, and Negan goes. There is a price, and it has been paid. This is the aftermath. Disclaimer: I haven’t been spoiled for the finale, so this is all purely speculation on my part. No purposeful spoilers.