dissociiated
I AM SIMPLY NOT THERE
There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious & the E V I L —— all the mayhem I have caused and my UTTER indifference toward it I have now surpassed.
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My pain is constant and sharp
I do not hope for a better world for anyone.
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INDEPENDENT / PRIVATE / MUTALLY EXCLUSIVE FEM PATRICK BATEMAN
written by chandler
( current arc: maneater )
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who can i pay to make me a promo. seriously.
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i don’t know who’s weirder, you or me.
broken pieces of peanut shells litter beneath patrice’s hands as she breaks yet another one open. the mess is somewhat organized into a small neat pile beside her glass of bourbon. she snacked on food for the gluttony, as it never sustained her. your voice pulls her attention to the legumes before her. she sighs at the sight, unaware of how many she had eaten. the bowl had been full when she arrived, but now it’s nearly empty. she dusts her hands of the flakes on a napkin and flicks her gaze to you. ‘ you -- for noticing it in the first place. ’
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❝you're going to do WHAT with WHAT?❞
‘ keep your voice down ! ’ she hisses, placing the palm of her hand against the middle of your back. ‘ ever heard of whispering ? ’ patrice leans in closer and drops her voice to a whisper. ‘ i said i’m going to the bathroom to do a line -- did you want some ? ’ she thought she was being subtle, but a few eyes lingered over at the two. it made patrice anxious and in dire need of a hit.
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you gonna be my friend?
she brings her cosmopolitan to her lips, but pauses to reply with a dry, ‘ no ’ before she takes a sip. ‘ you can pay for my drink, though. ’
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“What happened to you?”
patrice scrunches her nose and brings her eyebrows together at the response. she glares down at you due to your tone, predominantly because she is embarrassed by your reaction. maybe the alexander wang outfit was too much -- but she isn’t going to admit to her fault. instead, she turns on her heel and storms back into her closet. ‘ well, fuck you then. ’
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“You’re bleeding!”
she hadn’t even noticed – she looks down to witness a deep red liquid stain her prada shirt. she sighs as she pulls it away from her skin, knowing the shirt is now RUINED. she sucks on her teeth and drops her hands dramatically to her sides. it was her second dinner earlier – they had put up a fight. this is what i get for being so greedy. couldn’t eat just one, she tells herself. even though she’s acknowledged that the blemish wouldn’t wash off, she turns her focus back to you. ‘ do you have a TIDE pen on you ? ’
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change in form
It didn’t happen gradually — Patrice woke up at 4am with her stomach growling loudly; FEEDING her hunger became the first mission of the morning. Bare pedicured feet patter lightly on the hardwood flooring and pause over the white tiles of her kitchen. She jerks her fridge door open and scans over the food. She snatches the left over meal she brought from a restaurant the night before — she can’t remember why she had it, she never brought food home, but she is grateful in this moment. She plucks the chicken out of the plastic container and takes a large bite. The second the meat touches her tongue, her stomach tightens. She doesn’t know why, she’s never reacted like this before, especially not the night prior. She needs something else, her hunger is overwhelming and UNCONTROLLABLE. Her eyes roam the shelves and she reaches for the raw meat, the smell intoxicating and ravishing. She rips open the plastic and allows the packaging to drop by her feet as she bites viciously into the flesh. It holds no taste as well, but her stomach doesn’t respond negatively so she knows she’s close to what she wants. It doesn’t satiate her hunger — she’s hungry for something, craving a meal that isn’t in her fridge. Something within her drives her away from her kitchen and out the apartment in nothing but a silk nightgown.
The cold cement shocks the soles of her feet, but her mind is too focused on finding a meal. She’s scouting the bare streets, unsure of what she is looking for. Her nose leads her to head West and at a bus stop with a lone man on the bench. He’s draped in blue scrubs with eyes glued to his phone. He looks up at Patrice as she nears him and he quickly jumps to his feet — CAUTIOUS towards the woman in a white dress stained with food. ‘ are you okay, miss ? ’ his voice shakes, clearly afraid of what she may do next. Patrice staring down at him didn’t help her case either. She can smell him from where she’s standing — he uses cheap Irish Spring, which disgusts her initially until she smells what’s under ; his flesh and blood.
Her mouth unhinges and exposes sharp teeth. Her nails, usually short, extend themselves to be longer and sharper. The man’s eyes ( w i d e n ) and his body shakes as he watches this unfold before him. She lunges her full body onto him and lands them both on the ground. He lets out a cry but is muffled when her fangs rip into his trachea. She’s never felt this hungry in her entire life nor had she had ‘food’ that tasted so good. It is nearly addicting. Blood splatters across the glass station as she tugs on his tendons, the animal within her tearing his body apart.
She finally stumbles back onto her feet and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, only spreading the blood further across her face. She looks down on the mess she’s made and holds no attachment to the victim before her. She possesses no remorse or empathy. This is brand new to her — the ability to eat flesh in the raw. The teeth. The nails. Cannibalism is what she’s done for years, but this? This form? She loves it. The carcass that sits in her stomach leaves her feeling stronger than she ever has felt. Invincible, even. Down the street, the bus turns the corner and she dashes from the scene, running back home.
#SHE IS NOT THE KIND OF GIRL YOU ARE MEANT TO LOVE ; WILD AND VICIOUS HER HANDS WET WITH BLOOD. ( WRITINGS )#so i know she's no longer canon b/c she's now a succubus but idc b/c i really wanted a maneating muse#it's her current arc atm#SHE INHALES LIFE & EXHALES ASHES ; YOU CAN SEE SOULS TRAPPED BETWEEN HER TEETH WHEN SHE SMILES. ( ARC – MANEATER )
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Injured/Bleeding Sentence Starters
“That’s a lot of blood…”
“That’s not good…”
“I think that’s more than a little cut.”
“You’re looking rather pale.”
“You’re bleeding!”
“That doesn’t look good…”
“I don’t think that’s suppose to come out.”
“That’s a bit of an interesting angle for that to go at.”
“How do I get it to stop?!”
“How are you still standing?!”
“Don’t get up, you’ll make it worse.”
“What happened to you?”
“I can’t feel my fingers anymore…”
“Everything hurts.”
“Is everything supposed to go dark?”
“Ow, yeah, okay, that’s starting to hurt.”
“It’s just a cut.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“You’re bleeding all over my floor!”
“You better not die on me.”
“They got a lucky shot…”
“Next time don’t call me to come over only to find you in a pool of your own blood!”
“You need to keep pressure on it.”
“Don’t move!”
“That looks nasty.”
“Am I dying?”
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