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sinligh · 1 year

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In the name of healing I bite chunks of myself daily, spit them out in my hand with the intention to wash it away later

Eventually, i end up over analyzing them, like everything else in my life

grafts of all the causes I’m still here, glued together by my mother’s fears

be the Alpha female, she said. “feed on your most beloved, a cup of the moon’s blood every night before bed for you to run alone forever, run wild, never slip”

I Shower myself with self-loathing, lick my own wounds close Keep me sane, keep me safe

loneliness to me is just another insecurity that is dangling from my prefrontal cortex, dangling right in front of my eyes… for me to see the world through it.

I spend hours looking at the bloody chunks in my hand, thinking where did i go wrong ? how much can I hold on to this heartache ?

I've been running around it all my life, running around red lines, red lines circle me, i run in circles around myself I’m all that I’ve ever knew, yet, I only know myself in fading

A distant memory, a deja vu…

All I really know, is that the only stable in my life is the fact that I exist, and that it’s a temporary state.

jamais vu.

will the lines fade if i eat what i bit off of myself again ? if i chew and chew and chew… If i teach myself to stomach it will i be whole again?

is holding on to those pieces enough to satisfy my desire to be held ?

Or does it make me a feral rogue ?

Schizophrenic delusions ticking in my head…

Sometimes I wonder if it’s my fault that I’m this alone…

then again I wasn’t the one feeding myself all the insecurities as a young child.

I wasn’t the one playing pretend.

It was never my fault, my mother thought faking happiness is the way to protect me, it was never my fault father wasn’t interested in the details, as long as I was his perfect girl…

Now, I can’t hold on to anything the way i hold on to the lunatic turmoil that makes me sway and laugh on my own personal misery.

Call it history.

Hide behind defensive humor, get my inner demons drunk on caffeine, mistake that high for happiness cause mama did too…

And wait for caffeine withdrawal to wake us up, both of us…

I’ve never been hangover, but I imagine this is how it’ll feel

The aura ? The migraine?

The urge to throw myself up to be reborn clean.

•••

•Quotes: Olivia Laing/Heather Havrilesky/ Olivia Laing/ Marya Hornbacher/Anaïs Nin/Camille Norton/ Alice Oseman/ eduardo C. Corral/anne carson/ Joanne Harris/ Hannah Green/Hannah Green/Lisel Mueller

•Original context: sinligh

•Art reference:

1. Sasha Hartslief, Late Night Shower, 2021. 2. Getting Up by Vincent Giarrano. 3.illustration by Owen Gent. 4. The Lovers on the Bridge, 1991. 5. "Beverly Edmier 1967' Keith Edmier, 1998

•song recommendation:

P.s: the whole album is a masterpiece ! Give it a try, thank me later.

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feral-ballad · 2 years

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I tell him to forget me. I dislike this warmth, I am not good, I do not strive for it. I am quiet, unmerited bleak. I am tragic and the sky appears red. I am passionate, of course: I kneel. I tear at the floorboards. I am dirt / my life is smoke,

Camille Rankine, from Incorrect Merciful Impulses; “Wilt”

#camille rankine #excerpts #writings #literature #poetry #fragments #selections #words #quotes #lit #poetry collection #american literature #american poetry #self loathing

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dontcallmeeds · 7 months

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Kate Siegel really played a femcel mommy, like that was real

#i cannot stop thinking about her #i literally cant write steddie fic rn bc she’s all i care about #camille l'espanaye #the fall of the house of usher #tfothou #kate siegel

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muppetcube · 5 months

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I think if the Usher family had just taken edibles together everything would've turned out fine

#aka i think the idea of them all taking edibles and everyone except like . perry leo and camille greening out and those three being too hig #h to do anything about it or help is really funny #i think if Tammy took a dab she'd either have the worst time like . ever or she'd become enlightened or something #i just really wanna see Tammy high off her ass #the fall of the house of usher #roderick usher #madeline usher #camille l'espanaye #napoleon usher #prospero usher #victorine lafourcade #tamerlane usher #frederick usher #also final note b4 anyone gets onto me about 'not understanding the show' my solution to every show i like is 'how would them greening out #together affect their dynamic' because mike flanagan writes the most tragic family dynamics ever and im obsessed

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angelbroad · 5 months

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The Night I Fed You Your Mother's Heart

TW: Descriptions of violence, referenced abuse, cannibalism

The break room smelled of cigarettes and anxiety. It was here in this well kept, yet suffocating room that Camille had found herself in along with Vincent. She didn’t smoke, the vile clouds irritating her throat and lungs. She, instead, lit her friend’s cigarettes whenever he felt like he needed the sensation of nicotine.

Yes, Vincent, he was a strange one indeed. Camille found herself drawn to him ever since their first class together in this culinary school. It was not a romantic interest, not at all, it was more like finding a kindred spirit. Broken homes, physical disabilities....hers more obvious than his.

Vincent couldn’t taste, he made that known to her from day one. He was a very closed off person, rarely speaking and mostly focusing on his work. Their first interraction had been during a pastry assignement, where they made profiterole. He was the only student that was willing to approach her. In a way, Camille couldn’t blame her kitchen mates, her unnaturally tall height and elongated limbs would make anyone turn away. She hated how her bones and skin were stretched, like the limbs of the spiders that raised her inside the walls. It was disgusting, but not to Vincent. He treated her just as he would treat anyone else, and she could tell by the raise of his eyebrow that he was impressed by just how much she followed his instructions to the letter.

She liked to consider them friends after this. Camille would approach him to talk, and took the fact that he wasn’t turning her down or walking away as an open invitation for a friendship.

They talked about their childhoods, about Vincent’s mother and Camille’s father. Both figures they hated. They would hang out more and more, Camille visiting Vincent’s dorm at some point. She still lived in the long abandoned house, serving as a perfect disguise for her violent grocery shopping. Vincent’s furniture was much more comfortable than hers, and she accidentally slept on them more than once. The man always forgave her, though. He never minded how touchy Camille was, or her weird habits. He tried to teach her things like properly plate a dish, or how much time she should leave the macaroons in the oven.

Vincent Charbonneau was amazing. He would give her so much, and for that, Camille felt that she should repay him....greatly.

“What are you thinking about?”, Vincent asked, bringing Camille back to the present.

She hummed, “Nothing. Macaroons.”

Vincent made a noise between a scoff and a chuckle, “Right.”

The man put out his cigarette on the nearest ashtray before turning to Camille.

“Our finals are coming soon.”

She nodded, “Yes, I know that.”

“Are you...free tonight?”

Camille tilted her head, much like a curious dog would, “Why?”

Vincent inhaled, “Look...you know I can’t taste so, do you mind being my taste tester for some possible dishes I am planning?”

Camille gave him a signature wide smile, complete with a salute, “Yes, chef!”

This time, Vincent actually chuckled, arms crossed, “Save that for when I am your actual boss, Camille.”

It was like eating a full course meal at an actual bistro, and like always, Vincent proved himself more than worthy of bearing the title of chef. It was ironic how someone with no sense of taste could make food this good.

Their fun night however, would be spoiled by the very much unneeded visit from Vincent’s mother. Or at least, her attempt at a visit. Camille had went to open the door, blocking her from entering as soon as she opened it, and shutting the door completely once Vincent ordered her to.

She was filled with absolute disgust as she heard how his mother had treated him, how she was the reason he had lost his taste in the first place, and that was more than enough to bar her entry as soon as she saw her face.

“Just...don’t let her in the next time she comes over, got it?”, he asked.

“Of course.”, she responded, her eyes staring at the wall and her pupils constantly changing size as the gears in her brain grinded together. She looked down at Vincent, who was sitting on a chair, and put one hand on the table. “Vince.”

He looked up at her as she continued.

“If you want me to...I can kill her for you.”

The man gave her a confused look, seemingly not believing her. He sighed, leaning on the table.

“Did I...say something wrong?”, she asked.

“No.”, Vincent responded, “Just don’t say those things with anyone else.”

“Yes si-Vince. Yes Vince.”

Vincent himself felt odd about Camille Bouchard. She was probably the only person that understood his struggles, and she accepted him despite his unpleasant, in his mother’s words, attitude. She followed orders like she was a doberman, and she always agreed to everything he would ask of her. In a way, it was comforting to have control over someone so...dangerous.

It was no secret to him, from day one he knew something was wrong upstairs, but he did not seem to be on that woman’s list. In the beginning, he was willing to be around her because of that fear. However, soon he found himself actively seeking her out, her cheery attitude and oddly touchy habits making her pleasant company. She would fall asleep over at his own house more than often, and she herself made a comfortable pillow to lie on. Not that he would ever tell her he used her as one out of embarrassement.

She started acting weird after his mother’s unwanted visit, finding her more distracted in the classes of the following days. After their finals, which they both passed with flying colors, Camille made a proposal on their way home.

“Hey, Vince?”

“Hm?”

“It might come off as a little odd but, could you come by my house tonight?”

Vincent raised an eyebrow, she never invited him over to her house, “Sure, but what is the occasion?”

“Our freedom, of course!”, she said, “We successfully passed culinary school, and are now officially chefs.”

“Mmmhmm.”, Vince slowly nodded, squinting his eyes up at her.

“So, I decided to repay you for all those meals you made for me over the two years we’ve known each other.”

“By doing what?”

“Making you a meal!”

“Oh?”

“Yes, let me cook for you!”, she cheerily responded, earning a raise of the eyebrows and a small smile from Vince.

“What will you be cooking?”, he asked.

“I was thinking, braised heart.”

“Sounds lovely.”

When Vincent dropped by the house, it was already dark out, and he would be lying if he said the house did not look intimidating, because it did. But then, he questioned why Camille would choose to stay in this house that looked close to falling apart. He sighed, hesitantly walking up to the house through the garden of tall grass and knocking on the old door.

The door creaked open, Vincent catching a glimpse of Camille’s brown eye through the darkness.

“Vince! You uh, came in early..”

“Yes, is there a problem?”

“Oh no no I just....didn’t start yet.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. This woman was terrible with time management.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes yes, sure!”

Camille let him in, and he followed her through the contorting halls. The further they went the more Vincent realised how bloody Camille was. She was wearing the standard chef’s uniform, but most of the blood was on the rubber black gloves and apron she was wearing. Eventually, they came to a more civilised room that served as a kitchen and a small dining area. Vincent went to drag a chair for himself as Camille went past him and to the countertop. The room was decently lit, but had many dark corners. How did she live here?

“Sorry about the mess.”, she said, “I don’t get many living visitors.”

“That is a....weird remark to make.”

She let out a short laugh before pulling out a large knife, digging into meat he couldn’t see, “Yeah.....yeah..”

He raised his eyebrow, “You...are using pork for this, right? You do know this is the standard meat for braised heart.”

The slicing of the meat stopped, Camille straightening her back as it was still turned to Vincent.

“Vince.”

“..Yes?”

“You told me you couldn’t taste anything, right?”

“Yes..where is this going?”

Camille sighed, lifting up a bloody hand, “I have eating habits that would be considered....unnethical, by most people. But I found that depending on the relationship I had with them, the taste of the meat was different...more savoury.”

Sweat started to form on Vincent’s forehead, swallowing down his building concern.

“And I thought...maybe I could help you, too.”

“...In what way?”

Camille finally turned around holding the freshly ripped heart, which looked nothing like a pig’s. Which was confirmed as she stepped to the side, allowing Vincent to look at the freshly dead body of his mother, her chest split open like a bloody flower.

All he could muster was a wide-eyed gaze as he looked at his deceased mother’s hazy eyes as Camille worked on the braised heart, neatly placing it in front of him. The cooking process made it impossible to see it was a person’s heart. The woman let go of the plate, a little blood staining the rim.

“Please....try it...”

Vincent looked up at her, her lanky body shaking in anticipation. Vincent looked down at the plate, she had followed his plating tips. He took a knife and fork, and cut a decent bite off the heart, slowly placing it into his mouth. He chewed, and he swallowed.

“...It still tastes like nothing....”

The two stood in silence for a few painful minutes before Camille slumped in a chair next to him, bringing her bloody hands on her face.

“...Stupid..”

“Do not say that.”

“H-Huh..?”

“This....might not have worked but...you did something like this, because you wanted to help me.”, he felt a lump on his throat, getting emotional, “...Thank you.”

Camille’s eyes lit up, giving a wide, but sad smile, “I uh...I’m sorry I could not make her taste.”, she looked back at Mrs Charbonneau’s corpse, “I can throw this away, then.”

“Throw it away?”

“I hate the woman.”, Camille explained as she fired up the incinerator to burn the woman’s corpse, “I know better than to taste the bitter flesh of hers.”

It clicked for Vincent. Le Boucher Des Gens.

“Camille. You are in your twenties, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“The Butcher’s killings can be traced back twenty years.”

“......Yes. Since I was seven.”

Vincent did not talk about this topic anymore, but now, he was gifted a new philosophy. Perhaps, if her found the right person, like Camille suggested, he could finally taste again. For this reason, he decided to keep Camille close, even at his bistro. She took care of his problems, like she was a dog that answered to no one but him. A provider of the highest degree, and an individual that always had his back.

Yes, he was truly lucky to have such a monster under his thumb.

#ao3 writer #ao3 #dead plate oc #dead plate game #dead plate #vincent charbonneau #camille bouchard #writing #art #digital artist #digital painting #digital art #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr #hell's kitchen au

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garadinervi · 2 months

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From: Romain Weingarten – Camille Bryen, Fomalhaut, Falaize (Georges Fall), Paris, 1956 [© Camille Bryen]

#art #drawing #visual writing #book #camille bryen #romain weingarten #1950s

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zileans-big-cl0ck · 6 months

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hello ive never sent a request b4 not sure how this works pls bare with me too 😿😿 ive seen that u write for pyke and camille (my two fav characters) and i was wondering if u could write anything sfw/nsfw for one of them because theres barely any content for them, ty in advance 😸

✦–Pyke & Camille General Headcanons.✦ (SFW & NSFW)

✦I see someone’s taste never misses, Camille and Pyke as favourite characters!

✧ prompt: ✧ just feeling inspired today to actually write.

✧ champions: ✧ Camille, the Steel Shadow; Pyke, the Bloodharbor Ripper.

✧ reader: ✧ gender neutral.

✧ author’s note: ✧ I feel like Camille isn’t my champion to write tbh, I absolutely cannot caught her character; please pardon me. PYKE ON THE OTHER HAND- But, really, you don’t even know how I’ve been DYING to write something for my favourite boy Pyke. Ignore any mistakes; as much as I enjoyed writing this, I’m really tired :sob:.

masterlist

✦Camille, SFW:

Maybe she is a dominant, noble woman, but you still should valet her, treat he with the greatest respect. That amuses her.

Taking care of her well-being is your sacred order. The lady must be always pleased, cherished.

Of course she can treat herself right. She is a proud, self-respecting woman. But that doesn’t mean she does not enjoy making you submit, serve and obey.

Camille treats you, like you deseve to be treated - like an adorable pet that belongs to her.

And she rewards you generously, always making you accompany her, even if it means sharing with you and her wealthy co-workers the same secret informations of her important work. That is Camille’s way to bestow you with her trust, which is shared like a true gift, making you her little secretary and confidant.

She always keeps you near herself in case anything worrisome happened - or in case someone decided to profane her delicate belonging. Camille is a jealous and controlling woman who holds a firm border between her partner and anyone who may cross their path; she openly fears that the others, the vociferous people, may have bad influence on you. And you must stay as her property, and only hers.

Unfortunately, this entails with her sometimes treating you infantile, like you are not fully responsible. But don’t worry, it also means that she is always ready to do something for you, even if it is the hardest, most cumbersome work that requiers a professional. Because that’s who she is - a capable, deadly woman.

✦Pyke, SFW:

He always watches you from a distance. Pyke is a protective lover, but he desires to stay unseen by the others, all because of his well-known esteem as the Bloodharbor Ripper, the doom of captains. Even if you are not aware of his presence, he is alwats with you, stalking from the shadows, creeping around somewhere between the realms of the dead and mortals like a ghost, keeping an eye on you in case anything disturbed your peace. He would never stand anyone troubling you, which unfortunately can happen anytime in this perilous land. He is almost like a guardian angel, scared for your life and positive to take care of it, but cursed himself.

When he isn’t working, he likes reading. And I will not elaborate on that; Pyke has literally a Shakespeare quote in his own voicelines. He loves reading and you comming up with new book titles and recommendations for him, since he doesn’t have much time exploring this topic himself - his work consumes most of his sacred time, which he divides only between the ardous hunt for his victims and - you.

Though he appreciates your interest in his work, your questions about his day, even if their seem to serve no higher purpose than to start a conversation, he doesn’t want you to know all about his job. Not the things he has done to fulfill the meaning of his afterlife and cross all the names from the manifest. As Pyke came to conclusion, he might be unsure of your possible reaction to him being a killer, which you probably know either way, just never saw it on your eyes. At least he took care of it, to never commit such a dirty work before you. It’s not like he didn’t give you his whole trust, but you seeing his murderous persona might change your feelings towards him- that’s what he believes. And moreover, you might not want to see him how much pleasure he takes from killing.

He would never want you to risk your safety in order to try and get any information about his past, if you ever came up with idea so preposterous. Even if you were convinced that you might get into your hands a piece of knowledge that was out of reach for Pyke for years, maybe even decades. Of course he had shared with you the scraps of memories he still remembered, but there was never nothing solid, declaiming a consistent story. And he stopped caring about it long ago, entombing all the lost feelings in exchange for a new life (well, afterlife), new purpose, new emotions, even if they were ment to be irrelevant forever. Pyke befriended the truth - he, his new self, was never ment to meet with the man he was once before. Even if you were sweet enough, determined, to try and fight, he would turn you off - it didn’t matter if he couldn’t even remember it.

But he hoped it didn’t make you think that he didn’t trust you. He always answers your questions without keeping any bloody details to himself, just doesn’t tend to cover the subject by himself.

✦Camille, NSFW:

The first rule to obey: refer to Camille only as ”Ma’am”, ”My Lady” or, eventually, if she lets you, ”mommy”, so she could jovially call you her pet. A good, obedient little one, who can follow her around.

She would show you to her family, acquaintances, or co-workers with a proud, lustful look. She owns you not only so she could command you, but also to show a little off, to parade with her affable pet.

But you will always remain as her little one, the one under, the once she could crush, quite literally.

She loves the control she wields. Camille is a competent person who clearly deserves her position in the social hierarchy, same as under the cover of blankets. Or just thin walls of her office, where she also adores having you weak before herself.

She often wants you to wear revealing clothes, so the others could trace their lustful gazes, unnoticed as first, but over you. It is a perilous game - she always takes whatever she wants and her feelings are deep, sharp and adamant like blades, incandescent like fire. But you are tantalizing for her, especially when trying to get rid of woeful surrounding.

Camille would never let anyone else touch you, not even get close to you, but how she enjoys watching other people desiring you, yet not being able to ever caught your attention, as your heart belongs to Camille and only her.

Walking around her apartmnet nude, pitiful, with remorse in your eyes, is a sudden turn on for her. She knows you taunt her, tantalizing by the move of your hips, the place where she wants to dig her nails in while putting you in your place, right under her.

Her legs are obviously her deadliest weapon, but also the sweetest gift she can offer. She wants your head between them, squized and trapped in something between a full of pleasure, hot moment and a bewildering threat of her scissors-like blades.

Oh, how she enjoys crushing you under herself, sitting, rolling her hips just to make you squeak, beg and cry for more. And for a opportunity to breathe, as she toys with your fear.

Camille uses her voice to order you around, as she expects unquestionable obedience. The cybernetic, blue lights of her eyes never leave you, always scanning, petrifying, searching.

She never reaches her climax first. She can hold her pleasure back, just until your own release, just to see you succumb to her will and her orders. Only then Camille lets herself cum too, her moans being the sweetest reward you could get.

✦Pyke, NSFW:

What comes first, is that he is not needy at all. Even if Pyke desires touch, he would never willingly admit it, claiming that he is a ruthless murderer. He doesn’t need anything so prosaic.

So you are the one bestowed with the great honor to initiate sex.

And when it actually comes to it? He is absolutely melting, so quickly turned on. Though he wouldn’t admit that, again.

And what turns him on the quickest is probably you admiring him, tracing your fingers over his tattooed arms, your body near his chest, pulsing with pure life, so innocent in its vitality. Because it is something he lacks and therefore - desires with curiosity.

And though it might seem unusual for someone like him - bodyworshipping. An absolute lover for this one, especially when you praise or compliment.

He gets hot very quickly, which always makes him curse under his breath; especially whenever you test his patience. Because of his protectivness, it isn’t unusual of him to grab you with one of his hands onto his lap, always looking for an opportunity to touch you and to be touched, to have you really close. Just to have your beating heart near his quiet presence. Oh, and he is never immune to your teasing, even the slighest move of your hips, even your fingertips brushing his bare chest, is everything to make him grunt with approval.

The sensation of your soft skin, so different from the harsh world around, the fearsome depths, his disgusting prey made from men, intrigues him, alongside with the sick fascination with the contrast between you - a mortal that if he hurts, will surely suffer, and him - a shadow of the past, a revenant, whose heart doesn’t beat anymore.

But he fears you escaping him, like his victims always try. So he pins you, either to the bed below you or any other surface, making sure that you can not hide or run away. Maybe even ties you, but holding you by your wrists with his firm grip until you fully comprehends that you are trapped, usually works.

Despite Pyke’s protectivness, he is nothing close to being gentle in bed. He doesn’t even remember the word gentle anymore, therefore it is natural to treat you they way he thinks is satisfying. It's not like he is brutal, but he takes unimaginable pleasure from pinning your body, much smaller in comparison to his own, by his bare hands sculped with tattoos with force, to pull you hair and to have you whimpering into pillows.

Let him choke you. He is fascinated by the thrill of holding your life in his hands, the same hands that killed countless of men, now showing mercy to someone so dear to him, fragile and mellow. A person he could never harvest the life from, but still takes a sadistic kind of pleasure from playing with this idea. He could do anything to you, because you trusted him, but he won’t cross your boundaries - and he would never let anyone else do that.

Whenever you turn pale under him, white from fear, his gaze stalks covetously, devouring and claiming. But you can read nothing from his face, even if he takes his mask off, as he stays unmoved - but not stoic, he was never a philosopher. Rather in awe, like a conqueror having the key to his soul beneath him.

Your shaky breathing is tantalizing, when you struggle to inale, seeking mercy with your pitful eyes. Because he prefers them on himself, when gorgeous pupils trace his moves, fixed on his body, proudly towering over you.

Pyke is also well aware of the impact that his voice has on you. He is a wraith of his past self, yet he kept his deep, throaty voice that makes you shiver and obey.

Therefore he is suprisingly good at dirty talking, making the voice a great advantage.

Pyke can’t help himself and when with you - doesn’t hold back. Your presence, you squeezing around him, moaning, letting him do these things to you, doesn’t let him last for too long. Even with being the bloody killer, you are his only weakness and therefore - the ultimate form of pleasure, when he can do nothing against your charm, the muffled sounds you let out and the hot atmosphere. Often cums before you, which doesn’t mean he is done.

May be also a little egoistic becausae of the ignorance of your pleas to be more gentle. Just a little.

Also a fan of drunk sex, Pyke is a pirate after all. It’s probably in his blood.

#✦demosthenes writes #league of legends #league of legends x reader #lol #lol x reader #pyke #camille #league of legends camille #league of legends pyke #pyke x reader #camille x reader

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arggghhhsstuff · 5 months

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we are well into december. i am tired of being at war with myself. i am not angry anymore, just tired. i do not hope for salvation, only kindness.

#camille things #camille writes #december #poetry kinda?#idk man #how to tag #if the sun is down you can be sure i'm gonna be dramatic asf #looking back now it just sounds silly #but hey might as well post it #i still feel that way

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eulaliasims · 1 month

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Uni: Lina and Wren 2/2

Wren finally has their sporty little car that they inherited from Grandma Marta again. 🎉

Wren and Lily caught up over peppermint mochas...

...while Lina hung out with Trent. She's right there, dude.

I finally remembered to give some of the uni kids microwaves so they can have instant ramen.

Unfortunately, Wren decided to make soup instead.

Lina: Mrrrrgh, wha's the racket?

Wren: Soup's fucked.

Luckily, Jill Stein the Alien Firefighter was here in an instant to save the day. Wren tried to tip her, but she was already running off to the next emergency before they could!

Wren: Mom lied, this soup isn't comforting at all.

Lina is unfazed by the tiny kitchen fire, and Wren has decided to eat cereal for the time being.

Both of them have evening classes, so they decided to head over to the campus square and see if they could make some rent money busking. This would be a fabulous shot if the instruments weren't covered in snow.

No! Don't tip the dormie, tip us!!

Thankfully Obi has their backs.

Lina: Hey, thanks, man!

Obi: Sure thing. Sweet sound!

Important update: Brashen, the most boring of all the dormies, has finally developed an interesting characteristic. Unfortunately, it's this.

oh my goddddd, GO AWAY.

Hey, Cammy.

Camille: S'up?

Look at Wren go, getting so many As on their final exams. Autumn must be so proud of them!

#TS2 #Middleground #Blanch #Fletcher #Lina Blanch #Wren Fletcher #Lily Donnelly #townies: Camille #writing posts like this is making me feel like I've timewarped back to 2010 #it feels weird #don't expect posts in this format very often

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horrorlesbians · 1 month

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amma crellin oh amma crellin

#🦌#my DAUGHTER #writing her flirting with rust bc of course she would bc he's hanging around camille and my god I'm gonna get you help girl

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feral-ballad · 2 years

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…I warm

my hope in a bowl for you. I have nothing

to fight with.

Camille Rankine, from Incorrect Merciful Impulses; “From the ground”

#camille rankine #hope #love #excerpts #writings #literature #poetry #fragments #selections #words #quotes #poetry collection

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booasaur · 1 year

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Citadel (2023) - 1x01

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anevolutionarynecessity · 5 months

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MY AO3

Do You Know Why I Love You? is my long anticipated sequel fanfic to Do You Know What Passion Is?

it’s also my last Killing Eve fic, so I wanted to make it memorable!

The first chapter will be published on January 12, 2024.

Read on under the cut for special preview 🔪💋❣️

Mark is watching television, while Irina pretends not to by surreptitiously stealing glances over the top of a language book she'd begun reading back at the hospital. Mark has kept the volume of the news low but Hélène doesn't have to strain to hear it. She doesn't turn to face the screen either, knowing it will be replaying that awful footage of the Thames.

Of the bodies hauled from its depths.

Hélène stands in front of the television. "I'm going to send a postcard to the Twelve."

Mark turns the television off. "Why?"

"To summon the remaining Keepers to Geneva for my election."

"How come you chose Geneva?" asks Irina.

"Geneva has been neutral territory for the Twelve to reconvene throughout the years."

"You mean you're going to mass message them a postcard with an ugly bird on it and hope someone shows up to vote for you specifically?" Irina tuts.

"Yes."

"Okay. But it's still going to be an ugly postcard. Right? Please say it's going to be ugly. With something more threatening than a bird, too."

Mark huffs. "Ma'am, have you considered waiting until more of the heat dies down? I advise against making your move too soon."

"Hawk." Irina squints at Hélène.

Hélène peers back at her. "Excuse me?"

"I'd use a hawk if I were you. Or an osprey, maybe a sparrow if you want to be funny. But a hawk suits you."

"Irina!" Mark points the remote accusingly at her. "Please be quiet unless you have something useful to contribute to the topic of Hélène's safety."

Irina loudly turns to the next page of her book.

Hélène sighs. "I can't have you obsessing over my safety when I need you to be wholly focused on my family's safety. Chloè is at my mother's in Paris and that's where you will be.."

"You are not going to Geneva alone!" snaps Mark.

"Ma'am," adds Irina, mocking Mark's voice.

Hélène keeps her silence until Mark has settled back against the pillows at his side of the settee and Irina has shuffled through a few more pages. Her own voice sounds grating to her, perpetually quieted yet no less commanding.

"I won't be alone. This won't be a long trip. A few days at most, since my election is going to be a formality after…after everything. So Mark, you will watch over Chloè. And Irina will keep me safe in Geneva."

Irina shuts her book.

"Then after Geneva," she says, "I want my own flat."

Hélène studies the stubborn set of her jaw, the challenge rising in her eyes that's supported by her burgeoning confidence, and the hint of a grin twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"Very well," acquiesces Hélène. "You'd better start packing now."

Irina obeys, tossing a triumphant smirk over her shoulder. Mark's keen eyes follow Hélène until she plops beside him on the settee. Then he closes them briefly, counting the seconds left to regain his composure, before speaking in a low voice.

"I assure you that I'll keep Chloè safe at your mother's. My reports will be regular, as you expect. I know dismantling the Twelve is your priority and Geneva is your focus."

"But?" urges Hélène.

"I worry about you, you know."

"Why is that?"

"Your near-death experience doesn't seem to have tempered your cavalier approach."

Hélène tilts her head. “I learned my lesson.”

“I’m worried you learned the wrong lesson,” murmurs Mark.

#SO HYPED TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU ALL #Killing Eve #Heleneve #Helene #Eve Polastri #Villanelle #Villaneve #Sandra Oh #Jodie Comer #Camille Cottin #AO3 #fanfic #writing #my writing

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bluecurtainsart · 4 months

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Madeline Usher and Daisy Buchanan

: an essay no one asked for

—————————————-

The connection between the characters Daisy Buchanan and Madeline Usher may not be the most significant imagery in Mike Flanagan’s The Fall Of The House Of Usher, however, it may have been a key insight into Madeline’s mentality.

Daisy Buchanan comes from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, which was published in 1925, and Madeline Usher was originally from an Edgar Allen Poe’s short story The Fall Of The House Of Usher which inspired Mike Flanagan’s limited television series by the same name in 2023. The version being analyzed is the latter addition of Madeline. In the television series, one of the first appearances of young Madeline Usher is her dressed as Daisy Buchanan. Her twin brother, Roderick Usher is dressed as Jay Gatsby.

The scene is 1979, New Year's night and both twins take a seat at a bar. The curious bartender will later be revealed as Verna (an anagram for ‘Raven’ and a subject for its own essay entirely) and Madeline is laying out a plan, specifically to and not with, her brother; they are laying out an alibi.

The twins have just gotten away with the murder of Fortunato CEO Rufus Wilmot Griswold. Madeline gave him sherry laced with cyanide and seduced him into the basement, which was still in construction. She walks away from him, saying he can have her if he can get to her, but the poison kicks in and he struggles to walk, collapsing on the floor. Madeline taunts him, calling him a “big strong man.” Before this encounter, there had been a business meeting where Griswold refused to listen to Madeline, blatantly sexualizing, and telling her ‘not to fuck with him’. Every encounter between the two shows Griswold thinking he has the upper hand, however with Madeline being regarded as a genius by her brother and the audience, Griswold does not realize who is really in charge until she is laying out her plan for him while he is chained up behind a brick wall. Madeline gets away with murder.

Then at the bar, she is seen dancing and flirting with another man, returning to the bar and telling Roderick it's his turn to dance with someone. Roderick does not want to, and Madeline does not care, telling him that they need to build an alibi. He listens, and Madeline ends up having a conversation with Verna.

While there are many incidents and examples of Madeline’s genius, this is about her connection to Daisy Buchanan, and that she does all of this (minus the business meeting) dressed as Daisy Buchanan. At the end of Gatsby, Daisy gets away with murder, never being caught because she is an ‘innocent woman’ and this is all Madeline was seen as by Griswold. Throughout the series Madeline has an open distaste for men, saying “Men are as stupid as they are simple” in a future conversation with her oldest niece Tamerlane Usher. Madeline went into the situation knowing she would be underestimated and sexualized by Griswold, and her costume perfectly reflects that.

Aside from false perceptions, there is also the point of philosophy. Daisy says “I hope she’ll be a fool- that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.” Madeline is anything but a fool, and time and time again she demonstrates that she is constantly aware of her surroundings. For example, in a conversation with her brother, they talk about a foster home they had been in, and how Madeline had befriended their foster mother, who practically tortured them. This alliance gave Madeline access to important documents and she was able to ruin the foster mother's life. Madeline is anything but a fool. Furthermore, in the conversation she has with Tamerlane, it seems like she has at least some sort of faith in her oldest niece; she does not want Tamerlane to be a fool, she wants her to be a savior of Fortunato Pharmaceuticals. Her other nieces, Victorine LaFourcade and Camille L’Espanya are both extremely smart as well. Camille in particular consumes knowledge voraciously, using it to benefit her in her family. This thirst for knowledge does end with her gruesome death via chimpanzee, but Camille doesn't seem to regret this.

As for Lenore Usher, Madeline’s only great niece, she is aware of how horrible her family is, with this awareness growing as the series continues. She questions people, especially her father, in both legal matters and about her mother’s care. The Usher women who had Madeline as an influence in their lives were certainly not fools. This is all to say that while that quote may be a reflection of Daisy's outlook and an insight into her beliefs, it is the inverse of what Madeline sees. Madeline sees women as superior, agreeing with Verna when she says “Women are the natural leaders of the species.”

On New Year, 1979, Roderick was dressed as Jay Gatsby as previously mentioned. The twins’ classic couple costume might even hint at the roles they play in each other's lives- or rather Madeline in his. Madeline is the planner, this is evident from the beginning. In her own words “If it was our birthday he would forget to eat cake unless I took a bite first.” Roderick needs Madeline to lead him, to mother him, even. The comparison is in no way sexual or romantic of course, but it could highlight who they became in each other's eyes. Roderick saw Madeline as a leader, a strong woman to follow, even if he didn't realize it. In contrast, Madeline had times when she saw Roderick as she saw all men- something to be managed.

It's unclear if Mike Flanagan thought too deeply into the comparison but that does not stifle its relevance to Madeline Usher’s character. Daisy Buchanan represents how the world perceived her, at least for a time, the opposite of how she saw life, and who she became in her brother’s life. In conclusion, understanding Daisy's relationship with Madeline is key to understanding Madeline Usher, “a queen without a crown.”

#madeline usher #the fall of the house of usher #tfothou #mike flanagan #flanaverse #daisy buchanan #the great gatsby #verna x madeline #verna tfothou #mary mcdonnell #willa fitzgerald #roderick usher #lenore usher #tamerlane usher #camille l'espanaye #victorine lafourcade #character analysis #essay writing

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