ineffable ephemera

Wow okay- Manving week. Just a little event for the dead dove/deadrooms ship and their untapped gothic horror potential. I decided to use songs as prompts instead of one worders, you can use the songs to draw inspiration or just do your own thing. It's just a loose guide for how you might want to vibe with it. Also you don't have to post on the corresponding days obviously.

Here's what I have to say: It doesn't HAVE to be a ship thing, make them friends, enemies, totally platonic, whatever. As long as it has Manson and Irving interacting I am happy. NSFW welcome. You can include other characters if you do a fic. Basically anything is welcome lol I don't care, doesn't have to be a fic can be anything. Just tag me and I'll repost. If you don't like this and don't want anything to do with the event or the ship, keep scrolling.

I had endeavored to warn Harry well beforehand against Stephen’s particular brand of unpleasantness.

“He will look upon you with an indifference more withering than any contempt,” I explained. “And he is very, very tall.”

“You’re very tall,” Harry rejoindered, quick lad he is.

“Yes,” I agreed. “A regular daddy longlegs, and just as dangerous.”

“And Stephen?” (We were lying on the chaise lounge. Harry’d just come tramping in from the early spring bluster of the wide waking world with a jar of glaucous green water for his microscope, and his brown-black curls all wind-blown. There was a bit of mud on his cheek—he was like something out of a pastoral tale. Wild mountain thyme. I could never resist him like that, and had swept him down at my side the moment he came near enough. His muddy boots lay discarded nearby, and I did not mind what drying gray-brown remainder flaked from his trousers onto the chaise lounge, which had seen worse mischief.)

“Doctor Stanley,” I sighed, “is tall like… a very, very frightening man, who also happens to be tall. Such a fellow as that is our soon-to-be-expected guest, whom you mustn’t ever call Stephen.”

Harry thought this was rather silly and thrust his slender socked foot against my thigh. He laughed in his sly way, which is to say, not aloud but with his eyes only and a dear little contracture at the edge of his mouth, and allowed me to take his ankle into my hand.

“Now, look here, lark,” I said more seriously, “you must be cautious with him. Truly. During the war, he—I told you all about that, I suppose.”

Harry nodded.

“And you mustn’t look at his scars too much,” I added.

Harry nodded again. A look of vague unease had stolen into his dear face, which I did not at all like, but there was nothing for it. That is the war for you.

“This is not talk for lounging,” he said a bit sadly. Lounging being a singular favorite pastime of mine but one which I had only recently induced him to try, I now felt it my responsibility to reverse the tone our talk had taken. So I slid my fingers up the lean, hirsute curve of his calf, unclipped his socks from the teeth of their garters, and traced the flesh beneath. He studied my face, eyes wide, and his little tongue darted out to wet his lip.

made this cake a week ago while i was visiting my best friend because they love making foodstuffs and i love eating foodstuffs. it was a totally average cake.