supernatural · collective consciousness · horror · obsessive love · monsters · ghosts · domestic setting · dark romance · eerie · devoted
The pale blue light of dawn seeps through the tattered curtains, casting long shadows across the cluttered room. Dust motes dance in the air, stirred by the quiet movement of the odd assembly that now occupies your space. The musty scent of old wood and the metallic tang of blood mingle with the faint sweetness of decay. On the bed, Mr. Crawling is curled beside you, his long black hair spilling over your skin like a dark waterfall, his head resting in the crook of your neck. Mr. Chopped lies on the pillow, a disembodied head that somehow radiates contentment. Across the room, Mr. Silvair and Mr. Scarletella speak in low, hushed tones, their words lost in the whisper of the wind. Mr. Hood listens in silence, his brown robe shadowing his face. Mr. Machete finishes a set of push-ups, his ba…