𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋 !

GINGER FITZGERALD from ginger snaps (2000) long is the way that out of hell leads up to the light part of waywardvhq WRITTEN BY SOPHIE

[ofcornsyrup]

dicmondhecrt​:

Leah returned the smile, albeit a bit more concerned for Ginger after she could see something was up.  Ginger was probably the person she knew the most after her own brother.  She certainly was the person she cared about the most after her own brother, so that meant something to Leah.

She tried not to sigh in concern when Ginger said she didn’t sleep well.  It clearly showed, but that didn’t mean that Leah was happy about it being confirmed.  “Like you said, we’ll sleep when we’re dead.”  She said in answer to the question.  “Hey do you want dinner at my house tonight?  We can get a pizza and watch cheesy movies.  Maybe something to get our minds off of our own shit.”

Ginger could see her friend was worried, and she tried to brighten her smile, but it didn’t come naturally to her. She could feel that it looked stretched and forced, so she dropped it. Leah knew her well enough to know that shit like that didn’t come naturally to her, and she didn’t want her friend to call her out for it. She hated the overly concerned look in Leah’s eyes, and smiling like a fucking jack-o-lantern wasn’t gonna help ease her worry.

But, when Leah offered to do dinner at her place, Ginger’s eyes it up -- a real sign of happiness -- and she nodded. “Yeah, that’d be wicked!” she said, as enthusiastically as she could. “Heck, anything that gets me out of my house sounds awesome to me.” She felt a flicker of guilt at leaving Brigitte to fend for herself against their parents, but she needed space, and Leah got it. A night hanging out with pizza and a movie sounded like exactly what she needed. “Thanks, man,” she said, really meaning it. “So, forget my weird shit. How’s stuff with you?”

[ofcornsyrup]

recklessabandons​:

when she noticed the other flinch, wanda’s eyes softened for a moment and took a step back. not that she was too close to her to begin with but just out of respect. the last thing she needed was to cause problems. she’d done that more than enough in her life. “ vegetarian i take it ? ” she asked with a curious tilt of her head. wanda’s reasonings weren’t quite the same, although seeing half of what they did at the restaurant should do the case. but if she was keeping that in mind then there were very few foods she’d actually eat. 

When the other woman asked if she was a vegetarian, Ginger shook her head a little. Before these freaky nightmares, she’d loved meat. She’d devoured three hot dogs in one sitting, once. But now? Now, she didn’t even wanna think about hot dogs, let alone eat one. “Nah,” she replied. “I’m thinking about it, but my mom would be a real jerk if I quit eating meat. She’d worry about me getting enough protein, or whatever.” She scoffed, and then looked at the woman, curious. “You?”

[ofcornsyrup]

ofdirtyhandss​:

If there was something that caused him happiness, it was giving someone else the creeps - the knowledge that he could scare people. It wasn’t exactly a happy feeling, if he was honest - more a feeling of triumph. If he were a younger man he might have even called it a feeling of security - the sensation that he was okay if people were terrified of him. 

That he even sometimes scared himself. 

“You’re correct on that front.” He admitted, raising his brows in a face of mock innocence. “Though it occasionally seemed like I was the only one in this town who wasn’t cheery.” He added. “Refreshing to know someone else has teeth.”

As the guy looked at her, Ginger dug into her coat pocket for a cigarette, and her lighter. She stuck the cigarette between her lips, lit it with a quick flick, and paused for a second. This dude was creepy, but he obviously wasn’t going anywhere, so she gestured with the pack of cigarettes, holding them out to him. “Want one?” she asked. He looked like the kind of guy who would smoke.

She took a long drag of the cigarette, and held it between her forefinger and middle finger to reply. “You got that right, man. It’s like living in fucking Pleasantvile ’round here.” She gave him a curious look when he mentioned having teeth -- she remembered nightmares where she had teeth alright. Huge, jagged, wolf’s jaws bursting out of her gums. “Yeah,” she said, with a bitter smile. “I guess you could say I have teeth.” And she raised her cigarette a little, like a toast. “Here’s to having teeth!”

[ofcornsyrup]

akawhiskeymess​:

Christ, it was like looking in a goddamn mirror. The hoodie pulled up, hunched shoulders, a look that said screw with me and regret it. That’s what she looked like at sixteen. (And seventeen, and eighteen… hell, it was probably not far from what she looked like now.) Then the girl turned at her voice, and Jessica saw the camera hanging there and things went into officially weird territory. Which was almost a nice distraction, truth be told.

“I’m no lady, trust me,” Jessica replied. She gestured to the polaroid. “Anything looks nice compared to that, hipster shit” she said, smirking lightly. She tapped her fingers against her lens. “Or something is probably more accurate,” she said, shrugging. “I work for the paper, and the most I photograph is blood-drives, bake sales, and bullshit.” She nodded towards the polaroid again. “What about you?”

The woman smirked at her camera, and Ginger gripped the strap tightly and glared at her. “I like the grainy look,” she said, defensively, and then felt kind of dumb for saying it, like a kid defending a shitty drawing or something. It was weird, because she usually really leaned into the whole ‘don’t give a damn, moody teenager’ vibe, but, for a second, it seemed to totally disappear, and she felt stupid. But it was just a second, and the walls were back up. Maybe it was because this woman was old enough to be, like, her mother, or whatever, and she was used to getting shit from girls at school, but not people like this.

The woman said she worked for the paper, and Ginger caught her bored tone. Huh. But, instead of ask her what that was about, she answered the question. “I just like taking photos of stuff,” she said. “My sister and me, we have this wall in our room, of memorable shit. Stuff we’ve done together, art projects, important moments...” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged. “It’s just a hobby.” She glanced around vaguely, and then back to the stranger. “So, you’re photographing birds, huh? Sounds awesome.” Her tone was flat, edged with mockery.

[volchitza]

Her nostrils flared. Becoming a werewolf had nearly destroyed her, but hadn’t. Thus she’d discovered the Conradian truth: The first horror is there’s horror. The second is you accommodate it.

Glen Duncan, The Last Werewolf

[ofcornsyrup]

survivedtheydid​:

@ofcornsyrup​

reacted for a starter with elena

it was almost uncomfortable for elena . the other being so young and her almost ten years older , they surely had so little in common . she cleared her throat , the silence getting to her .” uh - beautiful day , don’t you think ? ” from their experience with people everyone loved to talk about the weather .

When the woman spoke, Ginger looked up. She’d been doodling in her journal, totally ignoring the woman on the bench next to her. For a second, she didn’t realise the woman had spoken to her. Was she asking about the weather? Seriously? Ginger snorted -- a rough, scoffing, sound in the back of her throat. “Sure,” she said, in a bored tone. “If you care about stuff like that.” She paused, frowning at the woman. “You’re not great at small talk, are you?”

[ofcornsyrup]

recklessabandons​:

if there was one thing wanda hated the most in the world, it was grocery shopping. the store was always so full of people and don’t even get her started on the meat section placed right in the middle of the store. seriously - who put it there ? it stunk up the whole store. and since she was a waitress, surely the last thing she wanted to do was be reminded of that place on her only day off. mixed in with the lights that were moments away from giving her a migraine, she’s beginning to question why she even came here when she heard the woman next to her. 

“ you know what ? i was just thinking the same thing myself. it really is a bit repulsive, isn’t it ? ” wanda sympathized with a smile on her lips. although their reasons for their discomfort might be totally different. or maybe this sotre was really that overwhelming for everyone coming in. 

Ginger was so out of it that she actually half flinched when the stranger addressed her. She frowned, and the thoughts of vague animals squirming as they died faded, and she was just herself again, standing in the aisle of the grocery store like a total freak, talking to herself. Fuck. She gave the stranger a wan smile. “Yeah, it is,” she replied, in what she hoped was a casual tone. “Totally repulsive. Like, these things used to be living, y’know? Ew.” She wrinkled her nose a little, and hoped that would be enough to get the woman to keep walking.

[ofcornsyrup]

monstvrsfm​:

     jane  was  seen  jogging  through  the  grocery  store,  searching  for  the  meat  aisle.  good  thing  she  spent  some  time  casually  running  the  track  back  at  university,  she  could’ve  run  track  and  field  easily,  but  declined.  she  didn’t  need  any  more  trophies  on  her  shelf.  her  twin  sister  was  getting  off  work  in  an  hour,  and  jane  was  supposed  to  make  dinner  tonight.  but  jane  was  running  late,  which  wasn’t  like  one  of  wayward’s  best  uni  students.  she  needed  to  prep,  but  she  didn’t  even  know  what  she  was  making.  maybe  a  quick  run  to  the  store  for  some  meat,  would  do  the  trick.  her  own  creative  talents  would  do  the  rest.

     in  minutes,  she  was  there.  but  a  girl  was  standing  in  her  way.  she  leaned  back  against  a  shelf,  waiting  for  her  to  decide.  jane  didn’t  have  time  for  this.  “  hey,  zombie.”  she  called  out,  impatiently.  “  are  you  buying  meat  or  not?  y’know  what  —  whatever,”  she  groaned  and  purposely  collided  her  shoulder  against  the  other  since  she  wasted  her  time,    and  stepped  in  front  of  her  to  grab  some  meat  herself.  

When the girl spoke, Ginger blinked and turned sharply, just as the other girl shoved past her. And, suddenly, it was like all the bullshit -- all the weird dreams of jagged, yellow, fangs bursting out of her swollen gums, and bits of mangy fur sticking out of a wound on her shoulder, and warm, gushing, blood dribbling down her chin -- burst out of her. Ginger had always been an angry person, not afraid to punch bitchy girls who laughed at her sister, or yell at creeps who jeered at her in the school hallways. But it had always been a kind of controlled anger. She’d never totally lost it. But this was different. She felt this thing rising up inside her, like the rage was a physical thing crawling up her throat, like it had always been there, lurking in her skull, just waiting for a freaking reason.

Ginger snapped. She shoved the girl back, pushing her shoulder hard, and she felt a snarl -- a for-real, animalistic, snarl -- burst out of her throat. She bared her teeth, and, for a totally whacked out second, she imagined blood splattering across the white floor of the grocery store. It was just a second, and then the image vanished. But the anger didn’t. Her whole body was tense as she glared at the girl, and the thing inside her head growled quietly. But she didn’t push her again, or punch her (like she really fucking wanted to). She curled her hands into fists at her sides, digging her nails into her palms. And that helped a little.

“Jeez,” she said. “Who made you such a bitch, huh? God.” Her voice was rough and full of anger, and part of her wanted this stranger to take a swing at her, so she could hit her right back. Who cared if they got thrown out? Hell, who cared if the cops were called? But Ginger didn’t wanna make the first move. The flash of rage had cooled to steady, moody, anger, now. She just waited.

[ofcornsyrup]

dicmondhecrt​:

Leah was low on groceries, a game she frequently played called plain old forgetting and also not wanting to.  Soon she could see that she no longer could live solely on chips and cereal. As she pushed her cart to find any cheap and remotely edible thing, Leah found a familiar old friend who looked a little bit worse for wear.  “Hey Ginger what’s up?”  She asked kindly before she saw just how distant the other seemed to look.  “You been getting much sleep lately?”

Ginger recognised Leah’s voice immediately, and tore her gaze away from the shelf to look at her. She managed a weary smile that didn’t reach her eyes, but she knew her friend wouldn’t fall for it. “Hey Leah,” she said. After Brigitte, Leah was, weirdly, one of the few people in this dump Ginger would’ve called a friend.

She shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Eh, not much. We’ll sleep enough when we’re dead, right?” But she didn’t totally meet her friend’s gaze. Leah knew about her freaky dreams, and she knew about Leah’s. That was why they were closer now than they had been before. But that didn’t make talking about it any easier, so she said, in a forced casual voice, “... You?” That was another weird thing. Leah knew about her nightmares, but her own sister didn’t. No one had known, before Leah. And it was kind of comforting that someone else was having similar, freaky, shit happen in their head, but Ginger knew she couldn’t keep them a secret forever.

[ofcornsyrup]

recklessabandons​:

it seemed almost unfair that peter had lost so much already. and if peter were the type to think in that way, he would’ve dwelled on it. but there was always a part of him that had convinced himself that maybe it was his fault, in some way. that maybe he brought some sort of curse upon those he loved. which was a crazy thought but really was it that far off from what he was going through ? so to cope, which was perfectly fine and if anyone questioned it they were wrong, he went to visit his aunt and uncle at the cemetery. to tell them about his week, vent about his feelings and everything else in between. 

once he arrived, he set down the two lukewarm cups of coffee on either side of the headstone before taking a seat to the side. he started to tell them how his week had been going, all about college because he was finally able to go now. until he realized that he definitely wasn’t alone and someone spoke back. he thought maybe, in some crazy world, that it was his aunt and uncle but then remembered that’s not how this worked. his shoulders slumped ever so slightly as he turned his head, offering her a small smile. “ yeah, i know. i just like to talk with them anyways. i know they’re here, even if they can’t talk back. they’re here. ”

Ginger frowned at the kid, and folded her arms. Her grandparents were dead, but she’d never been super close to them, so she had no idea what this guy was going through. She looked at the headstone, and wondered who they were to him. His parents, maybe? It seemed rude to ask, even for her, so she didn’t. Instead, she just looked at him again, and managed a small, weak, smile back. She wasn’t used to smiling at anyone besides her sister, but there was something about this kid, a softness, that made her warm to him, in a weird way. He seemed sad, which wasn’t exactly surprising. They were in a cemetery.

“That’s... nice,” she said, uncharacteristically gently. She wasn’t used to making small talk, and she considered just walking away and leaving him to talk to them, but he hadn’t told her to piss off, so she stayed. Totally at home in the graveyard, she leaned against a tall, neighbouring headstone, and crossed one ankle over the other, her boot laces trailing down. “And I guess you’re right. They’re here, just... underground.” She glanced under her arm at the name on the headstone she was leaning on. “Sorry Mr... Johnson. Hope you don’t mind me stepping on you!” she said, jokingly.

[ofcornsyrup]

frvgmentd​:

the feeble attempt at pretending to be amused hadn’t fazed agatha in the slightest  — if anything, it was merely something that was absorbed, and subsequently soon set aside. it wasn’t the right time or place for her ‘cheery neighbour’ demeanour, and that was that. fine. in contrast to previous ease of dismissal however, the words that followed were the one thing to catch agatha off guard. definitely not what she had been expecting on approach, nevertheless, she could work with it. it was already far too late to not outwardly display the hint of surprise that overcame her within the moment. regardless, the woman kept her cool, as manageable as possible, at any rate. ❝ oh honey… ❞ spoken slowly, carefully considering the exact correct thing to say. ❝ all living things have to depart from this life so that they can move on to the next. i think it was just their time. all of them. ❞

she wasn’t a therapist by any means, didn’t pretend to be. it appeared as if the girl had been through something, something absolutely harrowing. whatever that was, real or not. and what happened next was just foolish, agatha herself was entirely too self aware. before any physical self-restraint, hand carefully made for the younger woman’s shoulder. it was intended as a gesture of comfort, soothing, even. yet at the same time would more than likely spook it’s recipient. ❝ vegetarian. become one. it’ll help you out. and tell your mom if she really wants meat products, to get her own groceries. ❞

Ginger kept staring at the shelf, but, out the corner of her eye, she saw the woman looking at her. She was used to freaking people out -- that was her whole deal -- but this felt different. This wasn’t her taking photos of graves with her polaroid camera, or wearing all black, or writing some violent poem for English class. This felt personal, and weird, and it felt wrong that this total stranger was witnessing it. But then, when the woman spoke again, Ginger turned to her in disbelief. Their time. Huh. She said it in a sort of motherly way, like she was trying to be comforting, and, weirdly, Ginger did feel a little better. She knew death was just a part of life -- she welcomed it -- so why was this getting to her?

And then, when the woman put a hand on her shoulder, Ginger tensed automatically, but didn’t push her off. Her own mom knew better than to do shit like that. Ginger hated being touched, but she felt so strange and lost that she didn’t protest. “Vegetarian?” she repeated. She remembered the vivid blood in her dreams, the way a plate of chicken wings for dinner could make her stomach turn, but also make her wanna wolf them down at lightning speed. And the thought of not eating meat again filled her with a kind of panic.

But she couldn’t tell a stranger that, so she shrugged her shoulder to make the woman let her go. “I appreciate the advice,” she said, trying to sound sincere, which didn’t come naturally to her. It sounded false and twee. “I’ll think about it.”

[ofcornsyrup]

ofdirtyhandss​:

Kaz’s slow, cold grin spread across his lips, causing his sharp cheekbones to go hollow enough that he appeared practically gaunt, and all the more horrifying for it. He liked the power he held over people simply with one of those looks. Being the monster under the bed, the one people feared. Even with a woman like this, who refused to back down - there was something satiating about holding that level of power that he craved more than a man in the desert craved a drop of rainwater. “Better psychic than psychotic, I suppose. Although I have been known to be called both.” He said. 

Scanning his eyes up and down her form, he arced a brow at her. “I may not truly be psychic but I have a good eye for what people are feeling. And you don’t seem to be feeling particularly cheery.”

This guy was enjoying this. Ginger met his gaze steadily, her expression cold. God, he looked like a fucking skeleton. “Yeah?” she asked, scornfully. “Well, hooray for you.” She was used to jerks at school, but this guy was way creepier. Maybe it was the dark, or his freaky smile, or the fact he was older, or all of the above. When he looked her up and down, she was grateful for her big, heavy, overcoat, hanging loosely over herself.

“Cheery isn’t really my thing,” she replied, in a flat voice. She radiated that -- she wore oversized coats and a bird skull necklace, she wanted everyone to leave her the fuck alone, she avoided people’s gazes in the school hallways. She thought everyone else was a waste of time. And this guy was proving her right. She looked at him with a blank stare. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she added.

[luthienne]

But the wolves have a way of arriving at your hearthside. We try and try but sometimes we cannot keep them out.

Angela Carter, from The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; “The Company of Wolves” (via luthienne)

[ofcornsyrup]

awakenz​:

           cherry   intertwines   with   tongue   as   dark   chocolate   eyes   fight   from   rolling   to   the   back   of   her   head   ;   the   audacity   of   the   mayor   for   expecting   her   to   do   her   own   job    ―    one   she’d   secured   for   an   ulterior   motive   ,   of   course   .   anyone   who   truly   knew   katherine   knew   that   she’d   rather   be   caught   dead   than   working   a   job   that   required   her   to   wear   a   knee   length   pencil   skirt   .   french   tips   flick   through   a   meaningless   stack   of   papers   ,   not   bothering   to   look   up   as   the   other   approached   .    ❝   go   away   .   ❞  

Sometimes, Ginger’s nightmares didn’t freak her out. Sometimes, she woke up, and she didn’t feel totally whacked out of her mind, checking that her teeth were still human, not jagged canines, or that her nails weren’t long and sharp and thick. Sometimes, the nightmares about ripping into living things and chewing their unidentified meats, hot blood spurting onto her cheeks and dribbling down her chin, didn’t freak her out at all. No, sometimes, she woke up, and she felt powerful. Like she could take on the whole freaking world.

Today was one of those days, so, when she slowly wandered past a woman with a huge pile of papers on an outside coffee table, and the lady told her to go away, Ginger stopped. She turned to stare at the stranger with a disbelieving frown. “Well hello to you too,” she said. She leaned over, trying to read the paper upside down, deliberately being antagonistic, since this lady had been such a bitch. “Whatcha doing?” she asked, in a falsely cheery voice.

[ofcornsyrup]

ofdirtyhandss​:

Being called dude was a first - it wasn’t that the word was unfamiliar, but it definitely wasn’t the first word that came to mind to describe himself. Kaz prided himself on looking well-kept and dressing for his success level; a side effect, he supposed, of not having any of it in his youth. The term felt so modern and sluggish that he almost would have found it insulting, if not for the stick of a girl saying them. 

It was a stretch to say he liked to take walks at night, when his leg would scream with too much work, though he tended to ignore the cringe-worthy pain shooting up towards his hip. “And yet, something tells me you aren’t enjoying yourself tonight.” He said with a predatory smile. He wasn’t intending to do anything to the young woman, but it didn’t hurt to be on someone else’s list for thinking he was odd. Besides - for someone who claimed to enjoy an evening stroll, that was far from a smile.

The guy smiled at her, and Ginger didn’t smile back. She knew his smile. It was the same look the guy’s on the football team gave her when they watched sports class from the bleachers, the same look some of the pervy teachers gave her. She was glad for her heavy coat, and she glared at the stranger silently for a few seconds. Her nightmares had been totally freaking her out, but, at that moment, she felt weirdly comforted by them, reassured by their violence. There seemed to be a presence in her head, like a voice whispering you can take him, if you have to.

She looked him square in the eye. “Yeah?” she asked, coldly, her voice stronger than before, rougher. “So you’re a psychic, huh? I was having a great time, til I saw you walking ahead.” That was a lie, and she had a strange, unsettling, feeling that he’d know that, but she squared her jaw and held her ground anyway. “I’m kinda used to doing these walks alone, without weirdos talking to me.”

[ofcornsyrup]

frvgmentd​:

usually,  a  trip  to  the  grocery  store  was  an  uneventful  affair.  the  odd  few  conversations,  usually  initiated  by  herself,  then  the  short  walk  home  afterwards.  today  however  was  an  exception,  and  agatha  would  be  lying  if  she  said  that  she  hadn’t  been  curious  at  the  ever  so  unusual  sight  before  her.  odd  things  were  interesting.  ❝  you  alright  there  darling  ?  you  stare  any  longer,  that  meat  will  cook  right  under  your  gaze.  ❞  an  attempt  to  both  bring  the  girl  out  of  her  trance  as  the  woman  approached,  while  simultaneously  lightening  the  mood  settled  in  the  atmosphere.  it  didn’t  take  a  genius  to  recognize  that  something  was  bothering  her,  and  it  wasn’t  her  business  to  pry  in  to.  not  for  the  time  being,  anyway.  ❝  you  look  like  you’ve  seen  a  ghost.  ❞

Ginger turned sharply when she heard someone speak. “Huh?” she said, in a dumb voice. She blinked, and her head cleared of the memories of blood and warmth and squirming, and she saw a middle-aged woman, looking at her with concern. “Oh,” she said, flatly. “Right. Ha ha.” She said the laughter, in a cold, empty, tone, and managed a weak smile. It was easier to look at this lady than it was to look at the meat, so she kept staring at her, and her smile faded to a close-lipped, fake, thing, and then disappeared totally.

“I haven’t seen a ghost, lady,” she said. “It’s just, like...” She struggled to put it into words. She wasn’t gonna tell a total stranger about her nightmares -- no way -- but she did wanna tell her something. Brigitte would freak the fuck out, but if this woman thought she was nuts, so what? Ginger would probably never see her again. “... D’you ever think about how, like, they once had eyes, and teeth, and a tongue, and stuff?” she asked, tearing her gaze away from the woman and staring at a chunk of meat that was labelled lamb. “Blood going through their veins... a heartbeat...” She trailed off, and just blinked at the shelves.

[ofcornsyrup]

Ginger stood in the meat aisle of the store. The fluorescent lights were sickly white, unnatural, and she stared at the processed meat in sealed containers, the transparent plastic clinging to goosepimply chicken flesh and links of sausages in spirals. It made her feel nauseous. Last night, she’d dreamed about eating something again. Something that was still alive, still squirming. All she could remember was a high-pitched yelping sound, and the warm blood, and the bone-deep, aching, hunger and need.

She baulked a little, but hid it well with a swallow. “Pick up dinner for tonight, mom said,” she murmured to herself, moodily. “It won’t be totally freaking disgusting.” She’d never felt this way about meat before. She’d never given a shit before. But right then? She totally sympathised with the vegan hippies who had badges like meat is murder. All because of those dumb dreams.