@hellhaunted-blog / hellhaunted-blog.tumblr.com
listen. do you hear them? do they tell you what you want to hear? do they tell you that you’re beautiful? do they affirm your deep-seated beliefs? do they tell you that your base desires are nothing to be ashamed of? do they tell you that red is your color? do they SCREAM that you deserve the world? do they SCREECH until their voices give out? do they rip their throats to SHREDS? listen to them. listen to them. listen to them. listen to them.
( c. )
i’m hopefully going to be writing here tonight, but until then, you can catch me on my multi muse!
i’m hopefully going to be writing here tonight, but until then, you can catch me on my multi muse!
2, 4, 16, 12, 14, 17 & 20.
2. besides writing, what other creative outlets do you have?
music. music, music, music. i play piano & trumpet and i love to sing ( despite my mediocre voice ). jazz is my favourite, though classical will always have a special place in my heart.
4. have you always liked to write and at what age did you start?
i have! when we’d get writing assignments all through elementary school, i’d take the story and run with it even after i submitted it. as far as writing online goes... lmao i don’t remember how old i was but it was on neopets SO!
12. is there a quote from literature that means a great deal to you? what is it and why is it important to you?
there are SO MANY honestly. quotes tend to stick in my head. in the interest of keeping this short, i’ll only post one. it’s an entire paragraph but i’ll condense it to my favourite parts.
‘ if your deepest self is singing and coaxing you toward the bonfire, is it better to turn away? ( ... ) or... is it better to throw yourself headfirst and laughing into the holy rage calling your name? ‘ -- donna tartt, the goldfinch.
i think this quote resonates with me because i’ve had a fucked-up head since i was a kid. i won’t go into details but my brain works Very Differently and i’ve had to learn to deal with it. accept it for what it is instead of trying to force myself into the shape of what others perceive as ‘normal.’ so when i read this quote -- this entire book, honestly -- it just really resonated with me. and if you haven’t read the goldfinch you totally should, just saying.
14. what are your fears when writing online?
THAT IM NOT GOOD ENOUGH. i try to be confident and i try to write from the heart and write the way i feel represents my characters well... but i’m SO insecure and that’s why sometimes i take so long with replies. i’ll literally get a HELLA long reply done and then scrap it and rewrite because i think it’s shit.
16. what inspired you to start writing?
reading. i can remember reading and disappearing into another world, disappearing into someone else’s head for awhile. and i wanted to try it.
17. what is your favorite genre to write?
horror. horror for sure. i want to write scary shit. maybe because my brain is so weird... but i love horror. ( you’re talking to someone who went to another state to listen to stephen king speak and then literally hyperventilated and almost cried upon meeting him ok. )
20. who are your top three favorite fictional characters and why?
OH MAN........... THIS IS SO DIFFICULT........... HOW DO I NARROW........ ok so one is roland deschain from stephen king’s dark tower series ( if you haven’t read it you should, i read it when i was about 13 and it’s had a profound impact on me, and also they’re making movies out of it now ). and..... ELEVEN. from stranger things. i love her and i’ve already saved a url for her tbh. for one day when i have time for more blogs. AND. uh. uhhhhh. sherlock holmes. every version tbh.
( meme. )
me: has the day off co-manager: texts me to say she's really sick at work and needs me to come in and cover her shift me: woke up at four... two hours of sleep... but money... for college...
it was like clockwork. every morning for the passed week and half she was greeted with this acidic burn in her gut that forced her to the bathroom. but this morning she was woke up with kisses instead and a sense of relief. she didn’t want to waste the day when she finally felt herself. his concern brings forth a smile accompanied with a nod.
‘ m’ feelin’ fine today — ‘ she’s quietly thankful for it.
she’ll lean in to steal a brief kiss before moving from his side. ‘ i’ll grab my gear and meet ya’ downstairs? ‘ and with that she trails off to gather her belongings and other equipment needed for their run.
it should be quick and painless for them.
it’s hard to believe, sometimes, that they can trade these small moments in a world so severely malignant with death. the kiss is a brush of warmth that he has come to expect -- and yet still finds the capacity to appreciate.
( every kiss could be their last. )
❛ it’s a date. ❜
he moves to gather his own bag, packed already with a variety of knives and guns. the louder weaponry is for a last-ditch attempt to survive -- something they hope to avoid. blades are far more effective for dispatching the shambling monstrosities without drawing the attention of their hordes of friends.
but it always pays to be careful.
as he moves through the quiet house, the group gathered in the living room collectively raise their heads, looking for instruction, ready to move at the point of a finger. it’s unclear how he took on the role of leader ( in all honesty, it is at least half out of fear that they follow him at all: seeing his eyes flat with rage, his body smeared with gore and gunpowder -- it could inspire even the most ignorant to choose his side ), but at his wan smile they all seem to relax.
❛ maggie and i are goin’ out. we’ll be back before dark. axe -- you keep a lookout. stay safe. ❜
somehow his words reassure them.
hopefully they return before nightfall, because if they don’t, it might well be the death of them all.
@hellhaunted
“ i bet you… three dollars the guys in red score next. “
three dollars, guys in red, his grasp on football was tenuous. his grasp on his money was even more so, but he was bored, making the vital difference between a quiet punter and a mischief maker. he sipped at his drink and pointed at the television.
“ ——- make that four dollars. “
❛ i’d feel kinda bad, takin’ your money. do you even know who’s playing? ❜
beer bubbled, effervescent, down his throat, coating his smile in hops and barley. one finger tapped the glass, a tempo which disturbed the condensation and dripped water onto the couch between them. these lazy days were few and far between, but ever a gambler, dean chased after the bet with all eagerness.❛ make it five and you got yourself a wager. ❜
wolf.
it was unlike her to be so careless. she’d spent so many years looking after beacon that she should of seen the signs. the police were on alert, the people talking of brutal animals attacks. five dead so far. her senses should of told her that it wasn’t just some animal, but werewolves unlike her kind. the ones that needlessly kill for sport. she told herself that it wasn’t her business, but here she was in the thick of it, and at the mercy of a hunter.
her head lulls to the side as she exhales, fingers wiggling in order to regain some feeling. he had her bound tight to a chair with wires that dug deep into her flesh. she was innocent despite what he believed, and very much wanted the same outcome as him. them dead, and preferably her alive.
‘ how much longer are you going drag this out? ‘ she questions with a dry tone. ‘ because it’s just wasting your time. ‘ they were still out there, hunting, and there would soon be another innocent victim.
there is a monstrosity LURKING inside. it rattles its cage, scraping talons along frayed lungs, tapping an infernal rhythm on a ribcage made of corrugated iron. tissue vibrates with such a great capacity for evil; the thought of torture THRILLS this anathema, this antithesis to everything a hunter stands for. there is FLESH to rend, dean winchester, come have your fill!
a glint of silver in the dim room belies the weaponry clutched in a bloodied fist. even the knife seems eager, ready to sizzle against inhuman flesh, ready to tear at dean’s unholy bequest. it is impossible to see a woman when he knows the beast inside. hard to hear a weary voice when he knows the snarl so close behind it. what she represents now is a means to an end, however bloody either of those might turn out to be.
❛ all you fuckers like to talk. put those fangs away, lady, and let me tell you how this is gonna go. ❜
there is a hint of a smile playing around dry lips. it is disconcerting as he approaches, blade flashing in his hand. the very tip is placed just under the hook of her chin, an exhortation to her gaze, drawing it up to meet his. those eyes -- so comparable to jade, to lush greenery -- appear black. lifeless. empty and ready to fill with the joy of torment.
❛ i know the deal here. it’s not your fault, you only eat people’s hearts during the full moon, you black out when you do it, blah blah blah. i’m gonna kill you either way, but if you sell out your friends, i’ll be sure to make it painless. ❜
it had been a time long since alucard had encountered the fellow hellion , an infernal magnate upon both their minds in spite of the solomonic seals carved upon his very body that kept him bitch to whatever codger wielded control over the seal of solomon . in the midnight hour , lights of the city polluted the once pristine night sky , clouds roiling overhead with the sky crackling from an overdue rainstorm . the dracul had found a rare night of parole that allowed him some space from the cage he was confined to , an opportunity to breathe . and here they were , alucard’s expression wry at seeing someone he thought he wouldn’t again .
‘ well , well – aren’t you a sight for sore eyes ? ‘ he greeted laconically .
malice settled HEAVILY in his ribs, cracked in knuckles so ready-made for pain. his skin thrummed with malevolent energy; the monster which used to be dean winchester fractured into laughter FRAUGHT with the sulfur of hellfire. eyes wide, he cuffed alucard’s shoulder, fingers digging in for a moment before scarred digits released the nightwing’s arm.
❛ wish i could say the same. you’re just as ugly as ever. ❜
untrue? perhaps; sarcasm marries well with aeons of undisclosed torment. they were birds of a feather, and -- as the adage goes -- flocked together. brimstone acidity, sparkling, darkling, hello, darling.
❛ how you been? ❜
are you really back :o
YES ‘NONNIKINS. i am really back. i’m gonna be slow for a long time because of work and school applications and school itself but i will be here writing!!! who is this omg ur cute and this makes me feel so welcome
when she stands by him, she stands beside the reason she’s still here. the reason to keep fighting. a world without him, would mean there’s nothing left but the walkers that over populate their world. she’d lost everything, her friends, the remaining family she had left, and even her will to live before he so happened to of stumbled on her family’s farm.
he was more than just a shoulder she leaned on, he was her right hand as she was his, and a simple run that he suggested would be quick and easy compared to someone going in their place.
‘ ‘course, when you wantin’ to leave? ‘ she could be ready to leave in minutes.
these days, each breath comes as a surprise; every inhalation, every heartbeat, every moment’s inundation of sight and smell and sound -- every moment spent amongst the living feels like a gift. having the privilege of spending those moments with someone you love almost feels like overkill.
it’s smart not to take it for granted ( but he does anyway ).
❛ soon. next couple minutes, anyway. sure you’re not feelin’ -- too sick? ❜
his gaze falls down ostentatiously, brushing across her midsection with precision. she’s not showing yet, but it’s only a matter of time. he’ll be obligated to traverse the darkness alone, brave the harsh reality of their world without her at his side. but all for the greater good.
for THEIR greater good.
