Rucker Funeral Home

❝ when he shall die take him and cut him out into stars ❞

[graveyard-ripper]

i’m the escape to something that’s worse i am the shadow driving the hearse what was it like to feel in love…

[bodyxhorror]

disappearing from this blog for months is really sexy of me.

[bodyxhorror]

bodyxhorror‌:

hey all. spring semester starts tomorrow, and i have a full schedule ( eighteen credits lmao ). i still wanna be semi-active to active if possible! if that doesn’t happen, you can always find me on d.iscord and s.kype.

[gvgvdans]

- ; phrases that really hit you where it hurts

“ did you really have to be that honest? ” “ every time i see you i just feel more alone. ” “ you changed me. ” “ was this all just a joke to you? ” “ i don’t want to know. ” “ can we start over? ” “ you make me feel so insecure. ” “ i don’t know if i can love you. ” “ every time i wake up i’m reaching for you … but you’re never there. ” “ of course it meant something! ” “ stop yelling! ” “ i gave up on you a long time ago. ” “ you think i care about you? cute. ” “ did you just forget about me or something? ” “ i still need you. ” “ i wanna say that there’s still hope but sometimes things just don’t go your way. ” “ you said you would keep trying! ” “ no, you ARE strong. ” “ you promised me! ” “ fine. you’ll never see me again, okay? ” “ i gave you everything i had. ” “ your eyes can be so cruel … ” “ i can never do anything right can i !? ” “ i want my life back. ” “ stop crying. ” “ you should go. ” “ don’t come back. ” “ does hurting me make you feel good or something? ” “ just stop it. ” “ i was never in love with you now leave me alone! ”

[bodyxhorror]

hey all. spring semester starts tomorrow, and i have a full schedule ( eighteen credits lmao ). i still wanna be semi-active to active if possible! if that doesn’t happen, you can always find me on d.iscord and s.kype.

[inked-black-books]

[fuckyoubaker]

[bodyxhorror]

[ asynjja‌ ]

❛ &. ┊ So much for enjoying the dreadful trip to the funeral parlour; the sudden death of two researchers working in the same laboratory had urged a quarantine and an in-depth inspection of the rest of the team’s health in fear of an acute viral infection. She’d seen the results of the blood samples herself and shaken her head like any other involved agent – it appeared, to the befuddled observer, that all signs of an immune response were there… but without graspable cause. And so sat she here, one clothed hand delicately wrapped round a reusable mug filled to the brim with steaming coffee ( black, no sugar, decaffeinated ) and the other loosely clasped round the brown file that lay somewhat against her lap. She’d become unprofessional for a split moment, parted lips making perhaps a joke far too inappropriate for the conversation – her counterpart’s withdrawal was justified. “ Sorry, ” a forcefully humbled apology after an uncalled-for invitation for a cup of coffee some time, “ Forget about that. The… pictures I brought, do you have some sort of second opinion? ”

   Posture loosens, if only for Misty to lean forth and inspect the photographs splayed upon the desktop. Watchful gaze remains fixated on the client a moment longer, before turning downward and, once again, blandly professional. Taking a picture between thumb and forefinger, she considers her response. Two bodies, starkly pictured for documentative purposes, felled ( quite literally ) by an aggressive viral infection. Each stippled with blood crusted craters, as if necrotic mold, and congealed blood oozing from every orifice. Another photograph replaces that, and it falls atop the oak with a careless clack. Worsening necrosis around the extremities leaves her wondering what of it can be salvaged and, moreover, what of it is worth salvaging? ❝ Repairing the damage is not impossible, ❞ Misty states, still imbibing information. Ten seconds later, when she faces the client, her appearance is one of feigned compassion. ❝  What concerns me is the significant loss of tissue in the hands, especially the fingers. Without detailed pictures, I cannot guarantee an apt restoration. ❞  

[bodyxhorror]

give misty a hairdresser friend.

[bodyxhorror]

[ fracturedportrait‌ ]

What did Val WANT her to say ? Brows furrowed with the question & her jaw tightened, a twitch of one muscle along her jaw betraying the force with which she was — holding herself back. But from what - the vampire was not entirely sure. Did she want to run away ? Scream at this stranger ? Or ( - most troubling that she would even consider ) should she bring death into this very moment, bright & clean on the razor sharp edge of her fangs & — this woman would choose to die or understand that … such a luxury of … choice was not always possible ?

“ I want you to show some —— EMPATHY for a stranger, “ her voice was low & smooth, silken words pulled in tatters through the strong grip of her jaw. “ To understand that death was not a choice for someone like me, it is & continues to be a curse — ” once more emotion strained through her words - threatening once more to expose too much ! & that — was more terrifying than anything else.

Hands curled into fists as she took a step back, her pale chin rising, shifting so that she was half turned away, “ But I ask TOO MUCH from someone like —— you. ”

  Tensity twists, tears, turns to an expression of utter amusement. With whom did this woman sign a deal–– Narcissus, Ptolemy? And upon granting great vanity, did they, too, bestow her with exorbitant audacity? Misty never cared for religion, but Jesus fucking Christ. To what extent must her entitlement reach? It must be far beyond the disappearing horizons, beyond what she can comprehend, for all that comes of it is wry laughter. ❝ Yeah, ❞ Misty scoffs, glancing at the emptiness into which she stares for seemingly no other reason that to make William Shakespeare proud. ❝ I barely empathize with my own family, much less a stranger––– go whine to someone that gives a damn. I’m quite done listening to you. ❞ A dismissive wave of the hand, and she’s already turning away.

[mesopelagic]

i am just, a horrid little beast and i am, going to cause a ruckus

[bodyxhorror]

[ fracturedportrait‌ ]

“ You say that as if I have not TRIED — ” the words came out before Val could stop them. They came out flushed with more emotion than she would have otherwise allowed & it was more than just the vexation this woman was uniquely talented in creating. It was the painful twitch of a nerve that had been struck, one that Val had kept hidden for life - times — even from herself.

For a moment she could do nothing more than glare at the other - as she fought to earn control once more over her emotions. How Val hated to be so EXPOSED ! — left so vulnerable by a stranger.

“ You don’t fear it do you — DEATH ? ” her voice was soft but the curiosity & the question was real, harsh … accusatory. “ Would you give yourself over to it so … easily if given the choice ? ”

   As eyes of endless horizons become mirrors in which she sees unspoken truths, the glint of their reflections reduce her to nothingness. For a mere moment – an infinitesimal rift in time – Misty is but ash suspended in sunlight…transparent, esoteric, reduced to the truest essence of herself. When the stranger blinks, the vignette returns as perturbed as she. ❝ What do you want me to say? ❞ Misty reflexively responds, tongue tight with tension. Magnetic are these theatrics…for every effort she makes to push away, this woman presses forth. ❝ To die is my choice– until it is not. I accept that. ❞ 

[k3rosene]

[bodyxhorror]

   starter call…perhaps?

[bodyxhorror]

@asynjja​

   ❝ I suspect we’re no longer talking about the same thing, ❞ Misty notes, wary. Suspicion reveals itself in the stiffening of her posture, as if an animal preparing to flee. 

[bodyxhorror]

   starter call…perhaps?

[bodyxhorror]

my most recent plot-in-progress got me feeling some kinda way.