Breathtaking

CHARACTERS AS COCKTAILS 🍹 ➤ nondisney ladies (part 3/3)

Avoir un coup de foudre, encore

I had not seen you for such a long time. The sun has caressed your body, tanning your curves that your new style clings to as lovers at the edge of ecstasy. Gravity itself tips in your direction, heads turning, eyes feasting as you stride to the dance floor, the gold in the chandelier losing luster compared to your sheen. Even from the sides I can smell your perfume, wrenching myself away from the scenes playing behind my eyes as siren song to Odysseus. My soul calls to hart, to bound away before this predator could sense our gaze, but your claws slide over my shoulder sending me stock still, the crowd calling that I know the dances you seek. Your voice purrs and hums in my ears, and I am clay under your exquisite hands, guided to first position with our fingers interlocked. The first dance I am shaky, nervous and at a nadir of confidence; it has been too long, I am too eager, I am too much in my head. Unsure sounds escape your throat, even a yelp with my trip - still your smile would refocus me, your eyes laughing and playful. The second was rote but easy, neither of us straining, yet neither of us bored. The third dance, we are alone again. My fingers trace your throat as your laugh knows you have won. The song is difficult, the moves igniting fires in our limbs; still we twirl about each other, your voice clear, perfect, sweet, as I grow hotter, enamored with you all over again. Then it is over, both of us trembling within a mist of applause. You are led away to your case, your strings being loosened, the rosin tapped and wiped off. I lay a hand on your shoulder, silently promising that soon, we shall play again.

this is so upsetting, PLEASE rb to spread awareness

Sometimes

Sometimes I wish I listened to my

Heart

Drive till I can’t see anymore

Break into abandoned factories

All while making molotov cocktails in a car that

Doesn’t exist

Only companion

Is the guilt that meows

Softly from behind dirty glasses

Telling me that I could have saved the world.

How can a person save anything

If the only thing they want to do

Is for their dead heart to Beat?

but we stay squeaky :3c

but we stay squeaky :3c

but we stay squeaky :3c

BUT WE STAY SQUEAKY!!! :3ᴄ

New Works of Basil Hallward (part 1 of 2).

Go to Part 2.

Okay this is...rather unlikely, but I just cracked myself up imagining that Edith's first novel was basically one of those "and then everything was fine and E/T/L became a (consensual) thing and they all lived happily ever after" fics. Maybe in her altered version there were no previous murdered wives, and the only ghost was a mother cruelly determined to continue her abuse from beyond the grave, so the Sharpes can be more sympathetic and it can be okay for her author insert (if that's even the right term?) to stay with them at the end. Look, this woman had genuine love for her husband (and some... interesting feelings about her sister-in-law), but then all the horrible stuff came out so now she's super conflicted and... processing, okay? She's processing. Then I cracked myself up all over again remembering that this would require a late Victorian publishing house to accept a book where the happy ending features lesbianism, polyamory, and incest.

I mean, she could write heavy subtext for the lesbianism, polyamory, and incest parts. Perhaps her character rescues her beloved husband from the ghost/metaphor and becomes Closest Bosom Friends™ with his extremely devoted sister. And they all live happily, respectably ever after, and 110 years later the academic analyses of the text are WILD.

In the 1950s it’s all “A classic tale of romantic and familial love triumphing over darkness!” In the present day there are John Mulaney memes like “I think Crimson Peak (1902) is about a bisexual incest triad.”

I do think a lot about What If scenarios for the canon, published version of the story. How did she change it? We have snippets of the text in voiceover, but even sticking strictly to her stated canon feelings about things, no Victwardian publisher would want to touch it if it was completely honest.

Or was the story we saw not what happened at all? Was it a complete fabrication? If so, what’s the truth? Did Edith even marry Thomas? Did he marry Eunice or leave abruptly unwed, and the story is the dark past and future she imagined for him?

I have one idea where she bases the story on a series of dreams- but oops, it turns out Mama Ghost sent those dreams and they were real. All this eventually leads to Thomas hanging for murder and Lucille swearing revenge on a woman she met once for like an hour, who isn’t even in the same country.

But I digress. Fascinating concept, Anon!

was listening to an excerpt from a toni morrison interview with the paris review and had to pause and take a breath because she said “I think of beauty as an absolute necessity. I don’t think it’s a privilege or an indulgence, it’s not even a quest. I think it’s almost like knowledge, which is to say, it’s what we were born for. I think finding, incorporating and then representing beauty is what humans do. With or without authorities telling us what it is, I think it would exist in any case. The startle and the wonder of being in this place. This overwhelming beauty—some of it is natural, some of it is man-made, some of it is casual, some of it is a mere glance—is an absolute necessity. I don’t think we can do without it anymore than we can do without dreams or oxygen.”