10 More Favorite Movies meme

In today’s “I’m Not Worthy” news, I was tagged again for the movie meme by the absolutely fucking iconic serabiet!

Rules: Using gifs, and without using titles, list your top ten favorite movies of all time. They don’t have to be in any particular order. Tag however many people you like.

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10 Favorite Characters from 10 Different Fandoms Meme

I’ve recently had the honor of being tagged by the lovely the-chosen-half-of-one on tumblr! This was another one I was hoping someone would tag me in (thank you for making my dreams come true, tchoo!), but it was probably the hardest one so far; it’s just ridiculously damned hard to narrow down all of my favorite characters to just the Top 10 – and from 10 different fandoms, at that. The other versions of this were pretty easy, but this one? This one was Evil.

Rules: Name ten of your favourite characters (in no particular order) from ten different fandoms, then tag ten people.


10 Favorite Video Games meme

I must have done something good recently, because I keep getting tagged by all of my faves. This time it was my girl, jaydesims in the library with the revolver over at tumblr with the candlestick for the video games version of this meme.

Rules: Using gifs, and without using titles, list your top ten favorite games of all time. They don’t have to be in any particular order. Tag however many people you like.


Favorite TV Shows Meme

I was tagged by dreamybluewhale over at tumblr, but as always, tumblr has decided to screw me, specifically. So here we are, again. Anyway, thank you, dreamybluewhale, for tagging me! I was secretly hoping someone would, and what a wonderful surprise to have it be you.

Rules: Using GIFs, and without using titles, list your top ten favorite TV Shows of all time. They don’t have to be in any particular order. Tag however many people you like.


I didn’t meme to…

I was tagged by devotedghosts over on tumblr, but tumblr is a joke, and I was a fool to think it would do anything it was supposed to do, so I’m posting over here.

Rules: Using gifs, and without using titles, list your top ten favorite movies of all time. They don’t have to be in any particular order. Tag however many people you like.

I know you’re not supposed to say anything, but “Dinosaurs! A Fun-Filled Trip Back in Time” is available on youtube and that movie was my entire childhood. I still have the VHS and a working VHS player because of it. Watch it, or don’t!


Two-Sentence Horror Stories

Secret Garden

The first day at her aunt Olive’s house, Ophelia had been afraid; by the last day, she was terrified.

She could see it through the window, dirt and boards and cracks in the glass; Olive’s garden had bloomed.


For Sale

Next time they come down here, I’ll kill them, Nervous swore and this time, he meant it.

Downstairs in the windowless basement, he had no way of seeing the “For Sale” sign pounded into the dry earth in the front yard.


Left Behind

“It’s not fair,” Cassandra sobbed, collapsing into her father’s stiff embrace.

Don had said he’d never leave her, but he’d done exactly that; she hadn’t even finished the operation!


Snuggle Buddies

“Goodnight, Porthos,” Cyd Roseland said as the bed dipped beneath the dog’s weight.

He was just thinking to himself that his old friend might need to go on a diet when he heard Porthos begin to bark in the hallway.


Ophelia’s Dolls

“Mama,” she said, quietly. I almost didn’t hear her; my mind had drifted, far away from the seemingly endless stretch of asphalt and sand, away from the hot vinyl seats that stuck and peeled away from my skin every time I moved. Away from my daughter, sitting quietly in the seat beside me, playing on the tablet she’d received for her last birthday.

“What is it, Ophelia?” I asked, glancing over at her. She was all but stabbing at the smudged screen with one delicate finger, her frustration apparent. I saw the familiar bright colors and dark lines of the dollhouse game she was too old to be playing, but I had given up on trying to convince her to find something more age appropriate. Better something too young for her than too old, I supposed. We passed another sign, warning us that we were almost upon Strangetown, and I sighed.

“My doll won’t stop crying.”

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The houses have no doors.

My name is Eleanor. That much I am sure of. Whatever else I tell you from here on out are the facts as I know them, but I cannot promise, with any certainty, that I am telling the truth. It’s not that I’m lying – it’s that reality is shifting. Changing shape.

Being replaced.

But for now, my name is Eleanor.

I live in a house I’ve never seen before, in a town that nobody can identify, with a young boy who says his name is Mr. Eli.

He is six-years-old, likes dinosaurs and aliens (“But not alien dinosaurs,” he tells me angrily, toys frozen mid-air in his white-knuckled fists. “The law forbids it.”), and has a monster under his bed he calls “Nana”. He is my son.

When I went to bed in my other life, I did not have a son.

I believe I do have family, though. Just not here… wherever “here” is. I have tried to contact them, but phone numbers are out of order; texts won’t send; e-mails come back “user unknown”; letters are returned unopened, a large red stamp across the front reading “UNAVAILABLE”.

I got through once. The man on the other end – my brother, James – said he didn’t have a sister, and hung up. I hit redial, but the phone number had been disconnected.


Excerpts taken from the diary of Angela Pleasant.

Had the dream again.

*                 *                 *

I think I’m running out of air.

My room smells funny. I asked Mom about it, thinking maybe she’d installed some new air freshener or something without my knowledge, but she insists that not only would she never (although she has before, which is why I asked), but she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. She says my room smells “fine”.

But there’s an earthy smell in here, something damp and almost… sweet? Not in a good way.

I’ve searched everything, even the closet, but there was nothing to find. I finally gave up and tried to open my window, but the wind was doing that howling thing again, and I couldn’t stand it. I had to close it again.

*                 *                 *

Still smelling it. Can’t find a source.

I’m afraid it’s in my head somewhere.

Something rotting and meaty inside of me.

I can’t get it out.

*                 *                 *

I take the pills to help me sleep.

I can’t manage without them. Sometimes, I can’t manage with them. But when they work, I burrow so deeply in the darkness that not even the nightmares (and I know they’re looking) can find me.


We Came Along This Road

x-posted @ my a03 account

Fandom: Rule of Rose
Pairing: Wendy/Jennifer
Summary: On December 20, 1930, tragedy struck the Rose Garden Orphanage, leaving only one known survivor, nine-year-old Jennifer Brown. Years after the hideous event, Jennifer seeks to reopen the orphanage. News travels fast, and quickly piques the interest of a long lost dead girl who never forgot the promise made to her by her old friend.
A/N: This story is part of a 14-part album fic challenge, in which each song from a single album will serve as inspiration for the story. The album I chose is “And No More Shall We Part” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.

WENDY
It was late, and the weather was poor. I should have been at home, half-finished with my nightly rituals, preparing myself for bed. Really, I should have been in my favorite nightgown, perhaps even crawling beneath the heavy blanket, sinking into the warm embrace of my glorious bed. Under less unusual circumstances, I certainly would have been.

Alas. I’m tired, but well awake, and instead of surrendering myself to the luxury of my soft bed, I have instead submitted myself to the indignity of the stiff, torn fabric of a bench seat at the back of a dreary bus. Trundling along at this indecent hour, looking for a girl I haven’t seen since I’d lead the dogman on the death march to the orphanage door, in the tender years of my own girlhood.

Jennifer.

Even now, her name fills me with such terrible longing.

If only she hadn’t betrayed me… chosen that filthy creature over me. Humiliating me not once, but twice. Without even trying, I still plainly remember the feel of her palm across my face, the heat in my injured cheek. The poisonous swill coursing through me, spilling black and viscous from the cracks in my heart, as I laid pinned beneath her on the floor, like a butterfly.

The memories are automatic, and unstoppable. The anger in her voice and the furious tears in her eyes as she demanded that I “give her back her friend”, even though I had not been taken from her, at all.

No… if only she’d understood, as I had, as all of the others had, that nothing of value had been lost to her… that the only friend she truly needed – after the lengths I had gone to just to prove to her the immeasurable depths of my devotion – was there already… everything could have been so much different.

We could have been so happy. All of us.

Royalty.

A family.

Instead, she’d been selfish. Cruel. Unbearably cruel. And in the end, it was she who was taken away from me, a second time.

I won’t lose her a third time, however. This time, she will be mine, and no one else’s, ever again.

I have been so patient.

Through the dirty, discolored window, there wasn’t much to see. Trees, mostly. The tedious landscape stumbled past on an endless loop. Trees and bushes, bushes and trees. How putrid. I sighed and turned my head away from the glass; I’d never really been one for the supposed beauty of nature.

Finally, the bus shudders to a halt alongside a bench I recognize immediately.

Once upon a time, I’d found a Stray Dog sitting there, waiting for his son.

I do not pause to linger on those memories. They are worthless to me. I leave the bench behind me without a second glance, as I follow the worn, dirt path up to the Rose Garden Orphanage.

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