#pyshcic

[dangersy]

[pathcend]

Yay / Nay?

created by Everyday Health [Instagram]

[drakefenrir]

Gardevoir & Mega-Gardevoir

[parasomme]

“     AL - ISSE  .    ”     death’s   bed ,      death’s   knell  ,      all    the   warped   words   of   the   somnambulist   come   as   these  .     his   wide   eyes   are   vacant ,    and   his   body   suspended  ,    as   the   spine   of    the   creature   arches   crookedly  .     the   sleepwalker   bends   down ,    down   to   meet   her   eyes .      but   this   gesture  is   merely   a   mimic ,   movements    of    thin   limbs   long   restricted   by   an   unseen   hand .      his   gaze   is   hollow   and   pointed   to   a   world   beyond .    

 flecks   of   hair   on   the   tile ,   there’s   blood   in    teeth ,    on   lips .    all   the   people   standing   on   the   docks   point   at   the   witch   child ,    and   the   red   bayou   waters   rise   up   and   swallow   the   town   whole .         --         his   jaw   hangs   open ,       and   then   shuts ,     as   entranced   eyes   follow   the   path   of   something   invisible .      

                           “        ...     BILOXI    KNOWS    YOUR    NAME   .         ”      

001 . @pyshcic​ / LIKED .

[absensia-archived]

CHARLOTTE STOOD IN A SHALLOW GRAVE IN THE WOODS. HER HEAD WAS BOWED AND A GENTLE RAIN SLOWLY SOAKED HER HAIR. FROM PALE GOLD TO A DEEP AMBER, BY THE TIME SHE RAISED HER HEAD TO PEER AT ALICE, SHE WAS A DIFFERENT WOMAN. ANOTHER BODY.

@pyshcic / WHO'S USING WHO?

Her hands had grown raw from gripping the shovel, her back sore from the constant push and pull of the dirt out of the ground. The rain had begun only minutes ago, but as the cold and the water soaked into the dirt and clay of the earth, the work of digging this grave was quickly becoming untenable. Especially considering she might be the one who has to lay in it in the end. The woman, half - ghost and half - nymph, as Charlotte had begun to think of her, had neglected to tell her for exactly what or whom she was digging this grave for; likewise, there hadn't been a single word on why it had to be her and only her to dig this damned hole.

With a huff of the cold, clean rainy air, Charlotte straightened her back and shot a glare up at the woman standing balanced on a nearby fallen tree - trunk. Despite the rain in her eyes, Charlotte's stare was steady, fixed. Raindrops dotted her lashes and she forced herself to breathe slow and deep. Seriously. Who's using who? Something like a laugh escaped her, that is, if a laugh could sound like it'd been in a mausoleum for the better part of a century and had only recently crawled out to find that all the moisture in the atmosphere had vanished. Desiccated was the word. And if it weren't for the rain, which was now nearing torrential, Charlotte herself would've felt close to naught but ash and dust.

" Clearly, I am down here, digging myself into a miraculous watery grave while landlocked because I'm taking advantage of you. I told you, didn't I? That it was going to rain today? "

[vyngak]

'meriC4 !🇺🇸

[medusacomplex]

⤳   @pyshcic​​​​   ...

she's been going for hours; long open road behind her, dimly lit by street lamps spread out at least a mile apart from one another. there was no one around this part of the country –– the ground was clean of footsteps, no muddied prints along the pavement. just long stretches of asphalt in the middle of a vast sprawling green. it reminded her a little bit of hawkins, or rather the space surrounding it. the drive between there and the next city over, whenever her and mike and her mom would make it, was reminiscent of these empty acres. the in-between, nancy had called it in her head, eyes glued to passing green blurs outside her window, shutting out the sound of her brother's whining and mother's humming. now, as rain thundered down and the dark of night overcame her, she found herself stopped and stationary in the midst of this in-between, breaking the unspoken rules she'd believed were law as a child: the in-between doesn't exist, and so you can't stop here. a lot of the rules she'd set up for herself as a child had, of course, become obsolete by now.

in the trunk of her car is a black duffel bag which makes a clattering of noises as she lifts it and slings it over her shoulder. she grabs a gun from beneath the bag, already placed in its holster, and draws it, holding it close to her hip as she turns, now, towards the only structure visible in the expanse of this emptiness. as she steps up to the farm house door, she's met by an eager answer, as the door opens, and a woman appears.

[vvhitch-blog]

                         have   you   heard   the   tales   of   harrow   county   ?            they   speak   of   many   a   -   terror   .            I   ,      A   CURSE   ,   EMBEDDED   IN   THE   HEART   OF   TOWN   .            II   ,      HAINTS   ,   SOME   AWFUL   CREATURES   ,   LURKIN’   ‘ROUND   EVERY   CORNER   .            III   ,      A   WITCH   ,   REBORN   .            those   stories  .   .   .   you   recall   .   .   .   in   visions   ,   in   dreams   .            you   dig   with   nails   to   the   bone   ,   hoping   to   let   them   up   ;      fingers   come   back   muddy   ,   blood   caked   ‘neath   the   nail   .            the   oak     groans   ,   fitted   with   teeth   that   snap   &   break   :      lies   ,   it      /      screams   !            ALL   LIES   .            you      /      should   have   stayed   ‘way   from   these   here      /      parts   .            inquires   .                ❛   ❛             what   brings   you   to   harrow   ,   anyway   ?   .            ❜   ❜

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