(these nightmares are my own) listen
black sheep ● gin wigmore i’m a bad woman to keep, make me mad, i’m not here to please
devil’s backbone ● the civil wars don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s not, he’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that i’ve got
never forget (these nightmares are mine) ● lonesome wyatt i try to tell myself this isn’t real this loneliness is something no one should feel
hate ● cat power hey, come here let me whisper in your ear, i hate myself and i want to die
people ain’t no good ● nick cave & the bad seeds they’d stick by you if they could but that’s just bullshit people just ain’t no good
nothing but water ● grace potter and the nocturnals i have seen what man can do when the evil lives inside of you
what’s a girl to do ● bat for lashes i had to look away i didn’t want to tell him that my heart grows colder with each day
bonus track: black beauty ● lana del rey you said if you could have your way you’d make a night time of today so it’d suit the mood of your soul
charlotte augusta gooderich ❖ 30 (226) ❖ vampire
"I think you are cruel, Miss Marquess, but please don’t punish me for saying it. I think you know you’re cruel. I think you like being cruel. I think calling you cruel is the same as calling someone else kind.”
i’ve been lurking for a while now and have decided to stop being a creep and introduce myself, etc.
my name is kelsey. i’m a college student. i work 50hrs a week because i hate myself. i’m bilingual, allergic to avocado, in a sorority, and 5’11”. i have a dog named after an elton john song and a boyfriend who doesn’t drink milkshakes.
i’ve been rping for way too long, and only started doing non-harry potter sites in the past few years. i have also, for better or worse, been watching true blood since it premiered and read all the novels. i have nothing to say for myself.
i’m excited for this site because my love of supernatural weirdness nearly rivals my love of flannery o’connor.
the cheap and evil girl dances if you're worthy
she teases every twirl, she's deviously dirty
the life of a bohemian, a french bohemian at that, was not so pretty. the romantic notion of it all had captured her imagination more than once as an adolescent. words like muse and ingenue, silk gowns and adoring men- she wanted those things for herself. she felt she was entitled to them, had earned them. had she not let herself get caught up in the insipid notion of love and grand adventure, she was convinced that she would have them.
instead, she found herself posed on worn velvet sofas or wrapped in a tobacco stained drape, modeling for men who claimed to be artists. had she been the religious type, she likely would have prayed for her pappje's forgiveness, but it was too late now. she had all-too-eagerly cast aside the future he had carefully insured for her and was now paying the price. by day, she was a nameless prop for artist who would amount to nothing. by night, she was gigi. look but don't touch. panache but no substance. notoriety but with nothing to show for it.
she had been an impossible child; a precocious, unfocused nightmare in the wake of her father’s death. it was her active disdain for a formal education that had, in part, landed her in such dire straits. her family had never been able to discern what, if anything, she had inherited from her fair-haired and pragmatic father. it took zora nearly 25 years to figure it out for herself- his heart. his enterprising, industrialist heart. all her life she had wanted to be someone. someone that couldn’t be left behind, someone that couldn’t be pushed around. it had just never occurred to her that she couldn’t rely on other people to make it happen for her.
ZORA BOSCH • the NETHERLANDS • SABOTEUSE & EXOTIC DANCER
“this is what it means to be a woman in this world. every step is a bargain with pain. make your black deals in the black wood and decide what you’ll trade for power. for the opposite of weakness, which is not strength but hardness. i am a trap, but so is everything. pick your price. i am a huckster with a hand in your pocket. i am freedom and i will eat your heart.” — cathrynne m valente