This Is A Compiled List Of Some Of My Favorite Pieces Of Short Horror Fiction, Ranging From Classics

mizufae replied to your post “Ask meme: 6, 18, 21 - please and thank you!”

my dude i will teach you how to make roasted winter root vegetables that are infuckingcredible just say the word it’s super easy

PEOPLE WHO CAN COOK ALWAYS SAY THIS.  LOL.  I believe you think it is easy!  I am not sure I can identify the vegetables in the store! :D 

To Hell with Those “Date a Girl Who...” Essays; Date Any Girl You Want

It seems like every other essay on ThoughtCatalog these days claims to have discovered the perfect kind of girl to date, the girl who will be your other half, the girl for the relationship that will finally work out this time. Date a girl who reads, they’ll say. She’ll spend hours in your bed with the latest novel, she’ll wear those round patterned reading glasses that make her look so sweet you could just eat her right up. Date a confident girl, they’ll say, a girl who isn’t afraid to wear black lipstick or dance on the bar with a dozen guys leering at her.

But the idea that girls come in prepackaged categories, that girls come in different kinds like Barbie dolls or chocolates, is bullshit. Date any girl you want, because no girl is perfect like what they’ll try to convince you of in those essays. A girl with anxiety who constantly worries about the color of her hair or whether everyone in her life is about to abandon her can still be the one you’ll want to be with for the rest of your life. A girl who has never read a book in her life can still teach you as much about love and adventure as a girl who reads voraciously every single spare second. A girl who would rather stay home and eat frozen pizza and watch old TV reruns instead of going out for drinks or heading to loud house parties can make you feel just as whole as the girl who wants to spend all her Saturday nights out on the town. And the girl who eats five thousand different versions of macaroni and cheese for lunch and dinner can still teach you about healthy relationships just as well as the girl who exercises several times a day and eats nothing but vegan flatbreads and salads.

Every single star in the entire galaxy comes in a different color, size, rate of decay than all the other stars. Red dwarfs, blue giants, pulsars - but they all still put on a spectacular lightshow. And although the death of some stars may end in the formation of other stars while the death of still other stars may end in black holes, each ending still paves the way for a new beginning. A relationship with all those girls you were told to date have just as much of a chance at ending in a black hole as a relationship with all those girls that were written out of the equation, just as all of them have an equal chance of ending as a beautiful star.

Because when you tell someone to date this kind of girl, you’re really saying, but don’t date this other girl. She’s not good enough. She doesn’t burn as brightly.

Home Alone Gothic

You lock all the doors day or night. You tell yourself and others it’s so no person can break in, but you know you’re protecting yourself from something much worse.

The house ghost watches you from the top of the stairs, disappearing when you look in it’s direction.

It’s eerily quiet.

You thought you shut the basement door, but it’s always open when you walk by again.

What is that sound?

Your dog stares down the hallway and whines at nothing.

You know there’s something.

You go down to the basement to get something. There’s a being at the end of the hall. You are paralyzed. Its eyes stare into your soul as it approaches you. When it gets close it disappears.

You feel different and go back upstairs without grabbing your item.

You don’t even bother shutting the basement door.

There’s blood on the kitchen counter. You ignore it.

Suddenly it’s dark out. How long were you in the basement?

You close the curtains and blinds, knowing they don’t stop anything that truly wants to see inside.

The front door isn’t locked anymore.

Your favorite show goes to commercial, so you go to the kitchen to grab a drink. You come back to the TV playing static. The channel hasn’t changed. You sit and watch anyway.

The being from the basement has replaced the house ghost’s spot at the top of the stairs. It doesn’t let you go.

There’s a knock on the door. You realize every door was knocked on at the same time.

You haven’t seen your dog in a few hours, but you hear it whining from a location you can’t get to.

Your family member gets back home, they look different from when they left. An entirely new face.

They shut the basement door.

The dog greets them, tail wagging.

The TV plays the news.

The kitchen counter is blood free.

“Why are the curtains closed?”

They open them. Sunlight pours in.

It’s the middle of the day.

Dreamed I was swimming with fish, then I jumped out of the water and flew with the birds, then I fell and turned into a rock, then I grew into a tree.

are men okay?

"There is some inescapable part of me that yearns for you- and not just for your rough, cracked hands to lift my head by my intrusive chin and tell me that I'm handsome, or to run them down my arms and back up again, teasing me (encouraging me, even) to let go, and give in- but there's an element to me that flows through my body like sticky sweet blood that powers me, it moves me. And you know it.

You know that you drive me insane. I'm sorry that I can't give it all back to you. But you know that you have this ability to drive me wild and you manipulate it like you do me; every move is planned and has its purpose, like you're folding me into origami- a sitting duck, floating on a pool that's drenched in your aura, your fucking charm. You disgust me.

But, you rule me. I'm a slave to you. If you held my head down in that pool, I'd be blessed and rather then cry out "dear God, save me!" I'd only find the words to thank him for giving me what I've always wanted. You. I want you. Unfortunately for me, God has abandoned me- or at least he doesn't acknowledge me and that's more then I can say for you. Rather than be benevolent or silent, you torture me and you punish me for what I can have. I can have you- you know I can, otherwise you wouldn't abuse my affection so liberally, dragging me on, leaning in a little too close, whispering a little too soft, drawing my hand to yours and pressing it ever so slightly against your thigh- I could have you, if I wanted. And that's just the problem.

I don't want you. I don't, I don't, I don't. But I need you. You are a horrid person; I abhor myself for knowing that there is a capacity in me to fall so hard for someone that I'd call against my very nature. But you're also intoxicating. You've bewitched me; I'm drunk, I'm stoned. I'm poisoned. I long for your tongue to cross paths with mine- even if it means that you'll bite like the waiting asp you are and I'll die. But I'll die loving you.

You're so open about it. You openly sport your prey, your toys- when you're tired of them, they dissolve away into the background, and I've watched it. Women, they come and go- like a cycle of evaporation, they come, they dry- they leave. Women, you get rid of. But me...I'm different, because I am not one of them. I linger; I tell myself its because I am ice to you- I refuse to bend and show you how much it affects me, but I'm melting. Dripping. For you.

One day, I'm going to give in to you. This is my acceptance of defeat. I will never be able to resist you for much longer- but I wanted to have it stated, have it shouted, how much I bloody despise you despite the fact that you are all in the world that could ever make me happy. These words are my paper crane- a thousand of them, a thousand more never said and never written- and they are my deepest wishes. Come and claim me, whenever you are ready."

-siriuslyblackhearted

Your fingers grazed not only my hand, but my heart, that day in the spring. The bliss you brought soon after will be not forgotten, dear.

🙃 Regular reminder that while Hozier has amazing love songs, he is ALSO very outspoken about his leftist politics, specifically anti-fascism, anti-racism, reproductive rights, Palestinian rights and more.

Take Me To Church and Foreigner’s God are scathing critiques of organized religion, specifically the Catholic Church and the colonization of Ireland.

Moment’s Silence is about oral sex but it’s ALSO about how that specific sexual act is often distorted to a show of power rather than that of love.

Nina Cried Power is an homage to various (mostly Black) civil rights activists from the US and Ireland and a call to follow their path.

Be criticizes anti-migrant policies and Trump and his ilk.

Jackboot Jump is about the global wave of fascism and about protest and resistance.

Swan Upon Leda is about reproductive rights and the violent colonial oppression of Ireland and Palestine.

Eat Your Young is about the ruinous way the 1%/capitalism and arms dealers prioritize short-term profit over everything else to the detriment of the youth/99%

Butchered Tongue is about Irish and other indigenous languages being suppressed and erased by imperial powers.

If any of the above surprised you, please, please delve deeper into Hozier’s music, you’re missing such an important part of his work.