"Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.”
a Monsters in the Dark Drabble;
—blood, violence—
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
The first time you got a glimpse of Billy’s tendencies for violence, was when he came home one evening covered in blood. You’d come bounding around the corner to greet him, only to stop dead in your tracks.
You moved closer to him, Billy tracking your every move, like you were a scared rabbit who was going to run.
“Are you afraid, baby?” Billy asked, moving towards you, in his tactical gear, pulling his gloves off. You were in only his t-shirt.
“No, Billy.” You said honestly, surprised by how much his visage excited you, made you want to kiss him, taste the tang of blood on his tongue.
He reminded you of your mother, fierce. The last time you saw her she was covered in blood, defending you. For you violence equated to love in some way. You didn’t ask why he was covered in blood, who he’d killed, because you were so sure Billy would never hurt you, and that you were selfish no matter what he thought.
“Yeah?” He asked, stalking towards you, baring his teeth. “You like monsters?” He taunted softly.
“Billy’s my monster.” You said, pressed against him, fingers clinging to the fabric of gear.
Billy’s mouth was on yours, making sigh, wrapping your arms around Billy, staining your shirt red with a dead man’s blood.
“I could clean you up,” you said, when he pulled back, kicking off his boots.
He gave you a wry grin. “Sure, sweetheart.”
List five things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last ten people who reblogged something from you. Spread the positivity!🍄🌵
-🕊️
Thank you so much for the ask! 💜
My Jack Skellington pillow. I sleep with it every night, lol.
Playing video games with my mom. We love to play Lord of the Rings Online, among others.
Iced Coffee. Caramel Macchiato.
Rainy days. Those are the best days.
The LOTR movies.
💜💜💜💜
Remember Me
A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
x
“Billy?” You murmured one night, curled up against him, warm and drowsy, watching him in the dim lightning of the room through sleepy eyes.
“Hmm?” He hummed, letting you know he was listening, as he turned the page in his book. He liked to read before bed.
The night before he’d read a bit of The Song of Achilles to you.
“Will you remember me, like Achilles promised to remember Patroclus?” It was a foolish thing to ask of him, but you were so in love and enamored with him.
He sat his book down on his chest, watching you, the light casting harsh shadows across his face, and he was silent for a long moment before speaking; “Will you remember me?” He asked, reaching over and touching your face.
It was these sweet moments at night you desperately cherished.
“Forever.” You said, earnestly.
Billy’s fingers touched your lip, “I’ll remember you.”
His heart ached at the thought of you dying. As though a part of him had died, too.
He would protect you, he swore, if only for his own selfish desires.
walking up to random doors and tugging on them and saying "i can't. it's locked" out loud to no one to fulfill my dreams of being an adventure game protagonist
i love your blog!! been following for just a bit but it’s crazy bc we have the same interests. i mean, billy russo, stevie nicks, and marilyn? they’re unrelated 😂 but i love em. love your taste hon.
Thank you! 😘 My interests are all over the place, lol. But I always get excited when I find someone who shares them, or at least some of them. 💜
It’s not about romanticizing the mundane but about being receptive to the beauty that’s already there. The mundane isn’t void of meaning or romanticism; it’s rich with stories waiting to be uncovered and retold, beauty waiting to be seen and acknowledged — a flicker of sunlight on a windowsill, a stranger's smile in passing, the muffled music from your neighbors through the wall, the way steam rises from a cup of tea. Yet, to see it requires more than just looking — it asks for a surrender, a willingness to let go of cynicism and to meet the world on its own terms. Perhaps this is where the art of living begins — not in searching for grand happenings but in learning to embrace the quiet magic of what’s already in front of us. The extraordinary doesn’t need to be created; it has always been there, nestled within the folds of the ordinary, waiting patiently to be seen.
36. | because we are living in a material world, and I am a material kitty. | my cat, probably. Masterlist I
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