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ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ*melancholic, horror ⟋supernatural.

#lisaries is an independent, private & mutual only ( multimuse ) . ♡🦂 26 +, she/her gmt. ‒‒‒‒‒ canon muses & original characters always influenced by my own perspectives & aesthetics. read rules prior to interacting. ⭑

02void

03-04-2025, 4 PM

madis0nmans0n

some additions to my room

0008753

WHY THINGS BURN . . .

[ * ] writing prompt ) : below, you will find a series of various prompts from daphne gottlieb's why things burn. these can also be altered as seen fit to better suit the characters in question. content warning: the following prompts may not be suitable for everyone as they contain references to violence, blood, death, and murder.

"make sure you have everything you will need on hand." "maybe something is only yours when you can do as you please with it." "the important thing is to stay alive." "any weapon you carry can be used against you." "I'm sorry it's been so long since I've written." "you'll never hear from me again. " "they're going to kill me." "there was blood everywhere. " "I lit a match and ran out." "I got blood all over the seat but kept driving." "I have been in darkness and seen no light." "it's only a power greater than me that keeps me alive." "you realize this is it; the world is ending soon." "there's only so much any of us can take." "don't rock a boat that doesn't need you on board." "behave, or I'll cut you out." "it's hard to love someone who's full of shit." "it's hard to love something that's only important when it makes trouble." "I never meant to hurt anybody. I just hurt too much all the time." "baby, there is no god, but they'll kill you for him." "let me start again, slower." "the girl who wasn't me in your bed this morning. " "everything looks like something else." "the world gets under his skin." "whatever's coming, let it happen." "seduction isn't what it used to be." "it's inevitable. sooner or later, we break along faultlines." "would you love me if I got my hair cut?" "I go looking for your smile every night, on other faces, with other names." "some of us are loved even though we're the last to believe it." "this attention, this adoration, is something I have always longed for, something I have always wanted to belong to." "it kills me, the way the world is." "every story ends the same, in death, and every story happens here." "every daughter presumes parents." "you are the only one who ever listened to me. I can die happy in that knowledge." "the confrontation with the necessity of being saved." "none of you can prevent this." "no one speaks the universal anguish of love anymore." "my mouth is a wound, and you want to kiss me." "all power can be dangerous." "I'd just like to be friends. that's what I'd really like." "because just for a second, the world has gone away." "because it only gets uglier from here." "you want a place in my heart, but it's already full." "a woman's work is never done." "a girl never knows when she's gonna need to soak up some blood." "we only get the superheroes we imagine, never the ones we need."

⠀⠀jacob black ⠀⠀՞ † ˖ (. . .)⠀⠀ ‒‒ it would have been easy for us, easy as breathing…⠀ / ⠀⠀(@forestlure) .

⠀⠀jacob sat on the narrow porch of the red house. the coffee mug steamed between his large, firm hands, and he slowly inhaled the strong aroma before allowing his lips to touch the dark liquid of the black coffee.

⠀⠀the morning breeze, usually cold, felt sharp today. it came from the surrounding forest, sliding over his golden skin with icy fingers, as if to remind him that he belonged to something he could not leave, even in moments of apparent calm.

⠀⠀everything was too quiet.

#՞ † jacobb.

gothish

02void

04-14-2025, 4 PM

⠀⠀john constantine ⠀⠀՞ † ˖ (. . .)⠀⠀ ‒‒ i've carried worse demons inside me. ⠀ / ⠀⠀(@crimlune) .

⠀⠀the smell of cheap cigarettes permeated every inch of the apartment, mixed with the remnants of burning incense—a failed attempt at purification in a place that had forgotten what was sacred. but it was permanent, like the air itself: thick, saturated with sulfur, guilt and something else, something old, as if the walls had absorbed all the sins they had witnessed and refused to let them go.

⠀⠀the overhead light flickered, casting shadows that crept into the corners as if they had a life of their own. the light, weak and sick, pulsed like a dying heart, undecided whether to keep fighting or simply go out altogether.

⠀⠀john sank into the torn armchair, the leather raw like viscera. In one hand, he held a half-empty bottle of whiskey—or maybe it was half his sanity, hard to tell. on lap, an ancient grimoire lay open, its yellowed pages covered in crooked, menacing runes that seemed to move when she wasn’t looking directly at them.

⠀⠀containment magic. the fourth attempt that week.