victorian supernatural

It’s easy to forget that cemeteries were made for the living. Where first we may come in sorrow, seeking consolation, we often return again and again for something else.

We discover that places of eternal rest have many moods and designs — the moneyed hush of Oak Hill in Georgetown, the canine frolic of Congressional near Capitol Hill, the fields of infinite sacrifice at Arlington — yet in whichever idiosyncratic refuge we linger awhile, we sense the dead watching and taking our measure as well, keeping us company as much as we keep them.

“I just came to say ‘Hi’ to my dad,” says Christina Incognito, 53, eating a picnic salad with her son, Tyler, 20, on a blanket spread over the Arlington National Cemetery grave of Robert Eugene Bornsheuer, senior master sergeant, U.S. Air Force (May 21, 1927-April 5, 2012).

They drive down often from suburban Maryland to happily reminisce about the departed veteran. Incognito is awed by the crisp beauty of the ranks of white stones that seem paused in a timeless march.

“It gives me hope,” she says. “That there’s still kindness, that people take care of people who are not here.”

Hope is a concept that Romantics, Victorians and plutocrats brought to cemetery design in the 19th century. Before then, urban burial grounds were dismal, overcrowded labyrinths wedged into churchyards, scarcely meeting the minimum requirements of either municipal sanitation or reverent remembrance. Carved stone skulls and images of stalking Death adorned the tombs like dire warnings.

Romantic designers with Victorian taste and plutocratic capital launched the movement toward so-called garden cemeteries or rural cemeteries within the city. Monuments and mausoleums were set along curving paths within picturesque landscapes, the more topography the better. Stones were decorated with cherubs and angels and hopeful messages of gone-but-not-forgotten.

These green oases — places like Oak Hill, Mount Olivet and Rock Creek cemeteries — became the first large-scale parks of great American cities, places to stroll and court and relax, before actual parks came along, inspired in part by the restorative and aesthetic possibilities of cemeteries.

Read more here: The secret life of cemeteries: Go for a stroll, meet your book club, visit the dead

Little Miss Robin Hood | Sam x Reader Imagine | Request


I clutched my growling stomach that sent hungry pains into my muscles.

It’s okay. I can keep going for another day or two. The kids, however… They cant. I need to get them some food before the day is up.

My eyes flickered through the cobbled streets of London, scanning for someone unaware.

A passing beggar… A group of children back from work with only a few coins in their pockets… A woman with a scar trailing down her neck… Ah!

My sights landed on a wealthy looking man with longish brown hair, bright green eyes, and a large lump of coins in his pocket…


I began to walk with a fake limp towards the man, expertly flinching when my ‘wounded’ leg hit the stone. Keeping my head down I bumped into the cash holder’s side, slipping my hand into his coat pocket and clutching the coins so they didn’t make a sound as I held them.

“Oh, sorry sir…” I mumbled, keeping my head low.

“Its alright…” He sounded like he had a lot on his mind. Perfect. He wouldn’t notice the money that had mysteriously dissapeared.

My limp went away, granting me the freedom to speed walk down the populated street.

Everything was going well… Until…

“Hey! Give that back!” Shit.

I broke into a run, pushing past the people and ducking into the alleyway.

Unfortunately I heard loud footsteps behind me. That little rich kid must know how to run…

Ducking around the corner I spun down the dirty trail, passing by others who looked up in curiosity. After all, this was the first time they had seen me being chased.

I contemplated drawing the gun from my holster and shooting the man square between the eyes but that would surely draw the police. Last thing I need is

Scotland Yard breathing down my neck.

Also, I’m trying to enforce this new 'No Killing’ policy. So there’s that.

As I turned past the edge of a building I swore loudly, finding only a large brick wall.

The victim I had stolen from caught up, not even panting after chasing me for half a mile.

“Now… I don’t want to hurt you. Just give me the money and we can both go our separate ways”

Sighing, I drew my single action army pistol and aimed it at his forehead.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

He only looked annoyed at the idea of facing down the barrel of a gun, “Sam Winchester…”

It was only now I realized that he was an American, judging by that accent. “Well Sammy, I think I’ll be keeping this money. There’s people out there who need it a hell of a lot more than you…”

I aimed slightly to the left of his face, pulling the trigger and catching that my targeting was perfect. He only stumbled back, clutching the narrow cut that I had made on his cheek.

“Bye love” And with a small wave I darted past him and sped off into the crowded streets.
“Miss Y/N! You’re back!” Little Kate cried in joy, running up to me and hugging my waist.

I smiled softly, “How was your day Kate?”

“It was alright, I was able to steal this bastard’s pouch when he wasn’t lookin’” I playfully cuffed her around the head.

“Kate, don’t say those bad words” I mocked.

The small Scottish girl pouted, “Its true! He was kickin’ this man on the ground when I saw him. He was too busy bleedin’ him that I just had to snatch the wallet”

I paused for a moment before peering back at the ginger, “Then yes, he was a bastard”

She giggled happily before running off to shake the other sleeping children by the fire I had started in a nearly empty barrel.

“Evie! Jacob! Miss Y/N’s back!” Jacob merely groaned about wanting more sleep and curled back into the tattered rags.

“She brought fooood~” Kate said in a sing-song voice.

Jacob darted up with a jolt, “Its a pleasure to see you Mrs. Y/N!”

“You’re such a suck up Jacob…” His quieter, more thought out sister, Evie, muttered.

“I am not!” Before the two eleven year olds could get too heated I stepped in, handing the two kids bread I had bought with that Winchester’s money.

“Jacob Frye, you are indeed a suck up. But in this world that habit’s gonna do ya some good”

The brown haired boy perked up at  this, smiling proudly as he wolfed down the loaf of bread.

And as I watched the three small kids replenish their hungry stomachs I could only smile, glance up at the smog colored sky and think…

'Thanks for the money… Sam Winchester’

I whistled as I aimlessly wandered down the rancid streets towards Lambeth where I would be meeting with someone to help free some of the indebted child workers at Arthur’s clothing factory.

Suddenly a strange noise came to my attention that made me stop in my tracks.

It was the sound of struggling and shouts of pain.

My gut told me to ignore it. To simply walk away.


I swerved around and darted around the corner to face what was going down.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

A nobleman was locked against three Gang brutes in combat but from what I witnessed it looked like he was winning.

In the flurry I couldn’t catch a good look at his face, I was too busy looking at how he fought. The noble was delivering hard punches to the one guy’s face while he managed to whirl around and knock another one unconscious.

“Holy hell…” I muttered in awe.

But he neglected the third man, who came up from behind him and fastened an arm around his throat, holding him in place while the first took on a wicked grin, and unscathed a bleeder from his belt…

Thinking quickly I grabbed my pistol and fired, the bullet going into the thugs shoulder.

“AH!” He screamed, collapsing onto the ground and holding his seeping wound.
I aimed my gun towards the one who had an arm still locked around the noble’s neck.

“Get out of here or I’ll make sure the next one hits!” I threatened, making the man hesitate before he released the trapped man, and running off with the wounded partner.

My arm went limp, swinging down lifelessly before I shoved my gun back into its holster inside my coat and walked towards the convulsing noble on the ground that was gasping for air.

“Hey, are you alri-” My breath caught in my throat when I caught a look at his face.

“You!” “You!” We both screamed at once, making Sam stand up from the ground again.

“You’re the one who took… my..” His voice faded out, making him wobble dangerously to the ground.

“Y-You okay?” I asked while keeping far away from him collapsed body, it could be a trap after all.

He coughed up a sticky spray of red blood, “He… stabbed me”

Looking down at his clothes I swallowed thickly at the sight of a steady crimson hue pooling around his shoulder. “Yeah, I can see that…”

Without hesitating I leaned down and pulled him up, slinging his arm around my shoulder and limping forward to the warehouse not too far from here.

“Why are you… helping me?” I rolled my eyes and crept a hand to his stained vest and pressed down hard, earning a cry of pain from his throat.

“Because I would be a pretty big arse to let you bleed out on the ground”

I hope you liked it ! Bye bye!



Shadowgraphy Hands Silver Goat Pendant

Two hands throwing a goat shadow.

Shadows speak volumes by candlelight.

Hand carved by Moon & Serpent

IG: @moonandserpent

The Fandoms at the Current Moment
  • Doctor Who: wow that episode was amazing it was really deep and moving and just yes doctor who is back it's good this is everything also RIVER IS COMING BACK FOR THE CHRISTMAS SPECIAL WHAT IS LIFE
  • Supernatural: nostalgic brothers episode with good Destiel everything is right with the world.
  • Harry Potter: NOT A PREQUEL
  • Once Upon A Time: CAPTAIN SWAN
  • Merlin: *on the floor, covering ears, convulsing*

Self help groups for gothic horror literature, man. 
Elizabeth, Lucy, Christine.
The Creature (Adam?) Dracula, Erik, the Phantom. 

I went on a binge for Halloween. And yes, yes, I know, Frankenstein is set in Regency, JUST GO WITH THE JOKE. 

Meanwhile, Dorian Gray is confused on which one to go to. 

I know Dracula is supposed to be tall, but compared to The Creature and Erik, I figured he’d be the short on, comparatively.