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Key Keepers by Sasha Song

Hello, Tumblr! It's writersashasong here introducing my debut project, Key Keepers: The Opening -- the first installment in the Key Keepers series! MTV's Teen Wolf meets Netflix's Chilling Adventures of Sabrina in this ongoing adult horror fantasy series.

While plenty of magic and mayhem awaits throughout this series, the first book, Key Keepers: The Opening, is more psychological, allowing the reader to get acquainted with the unique setting and series characters in their normal world before they're thrust into the world of the supernatural.

The first rule of investigative journalism, Ms. Hawthorne, is that nothing is impossible… You have to believe that, or you will fail every time…

Bedlam, USA. Spring 1988.

Ren Prescott only meant to run away from the weight of her family’s reputation. Dahlia Sinclair only wanted her nightmares to stop. But when the senator’s daughter flees the island in her family’s stolen RV with her infamous rockstar girlfriend, they set in motion a chain of events neither can control.

Tasked with bringing the couple home, private investigator Erik Hawthorne takes his daughter, Faye, on the road, hoping the chase will rebuild a lifetime of lost connection. Faye finally wants the truth about her family. Erik desperately wants redemption. Neither is ready for what they’re about to find.

Their search leads them into the heart of the country, where haunting visions, buried histories, and long-kept secrets converge. When all four paths collide, the border between reality and nightmare shatters… and nothing in their lives will ever be the same.

With heartbreaking betrayals, salacious secrets, and hidden magic, the first installment in this epic horror fantasy series, Key Keepers: The Opening, takes you on a ride with a compelling cast of characters as they discover the ancient magics that tie their fates together.

the last few years have really sucked but sometimes im grateful that i lost my mind because i learned a lot and expanded my interests and met some cool people that make me feel accepted and got put on meds that help regulate the anger that my therapist says is understandable all things considered. i will always regret how mean i was toward certain people though.

pansy1993

“The person of the submissive transformed into a property object belonging to the Dom is the Shadow's response to Western culture's privileging of self-reliance, personal responsibility, independence, individuality, and ability. As an exercise in negation and erasure, the image poses the unthinkable questions: What remains of "you" when you are no longer a person? When you let go of the vestiges of identity, where do "you" go? What happens to a personal relationship when the construct of the person disappears? What happens to the psyche when it is unshackled from the stories you tell yourself and others about the person you think you are?”

— The Deep Psychology of BDSM and Kink, Douglas Thomas

rivermotifs

Violet Lucca, from “David Cronenberg: Clinical Trials”

doomsayings

“His linking of eroticism with vileness is as original as his linking it with cruelty, and can be explained in like manner. Beauty is too simple. We grasp it by an intellectual evaluation which does not free consciousness from its solitude or the body from its indifference, whereas vileness is debasing. The man who has relations with filth, like the man who wounds or is wounded, fulfills himself as flesh. It is in its misery and humiliation that the flesh becomes a gulf in which consciousness is swallowed up and where separate individuals are united. Only by being beaten, penetrated, and befouled could Sade succeed in destroying its obsessive presence.”

— Simone de Beauvoir, Must We Burn Sade? (via corneliushickey)

havingapoemwithyou

Origin of the Marble Forest by Gregory Orr

feral-ballad

Carrie Fountain, from Burn Lake; “Late Spring in the Mesilla Valley”

feral-ballad

Carrie Fountain, from Burn Lake; “Summer Practice”

weltenwellen

Beverly Engel, Healing Your Emotional Self

inkpressedpetals

derangedrhythms

In varying degrees, both she [Sylvia Plath] and her husband seemed to believe in the occult. As artists, I suppose, they had to, since both were intent on finding voices for their unquiet, buried selves. But there was, I think, something more to their belief than that. Ted has written that ‘her psychic gifts, at almost any time, were strong enough to make her frequently wish to be rid of them’. That could simply have been her poet’s knack of sensing the unspoken content of every situation and, later, her easy, instinctive access to her own unconscious. Yet although both of them talked often enough about astrology, dreams and magic – enough, anyway, to imply that these were not just casually interesting subjects – I had the impression that at heart their attitudes were utterly different. Ted constantly and carefully mocked himself and deflated his pretensions, yet there was always a sense of his being in touch with some primitive area, some dark side of the self which had nothing to do with the young literary man. This, after all, was what his poems were about: an immediate, physical apprehension of the violence both of animal life and of the self – of the animality of the self. It was also part of his physical presence, a quality of threat beneath his shrewd, laconic manner. It was almost as though, despite all the reading and polish and craftsmanship, he had never properly been civilized – or had, at least, never properly believed in his civilization. It was simply a shell he sardonically put up with for the sake of convenience. So all that astrology, primitive religion and black magic he talked about, however ironically, was a kind of metaphor for the shaking but obscure creative powers he knew himself to possess. For this reason those dubious topics took on for him an immediacy which may not have implied any belief but which certainly transformed them into something beyond mere fad. Perhaps all I am describing is, quite simply, a touch of genius.

Al Alvarez, The Savage God: A Study of Suicide