#acid brick lining

[refractoryinsulation]

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[wilwheaton]

fuck you pat robertson

Pat Robertson walks past thousands of souls, smugly and full of pride, and cuts to the front of the line at the velvet rope in outside the entrance to his version of Heaven.

The bouncer looks up from their clipboard, observing Robertson with thousands of eyes in a swirling cascade of light.

"Pat Robertson," they say. "We've been expecting you."

Pat Robertson silently congratulates himself. He swells with joy. All those people who died from AIDS, natural disasters, even 9/11 ... they all deserved it. They were sinners!

The bouncer speaks into their headset. "He's here." They listen. "Yep. At the front of the line."

The bouncer turns most of its gaze back to Pat Robertson. "Just wait here for one moment, please."

Pat Robertson steps to one side and waits.

After one thousand years, he begins to wonder if there was a miscommunication.

"Excuse me," he says to the bouncer, "I am Pat --"

"Robertson. Yes. We know. We're just getting everything in order for you. It will just be one more moment."

Tens of thousands of victims of gun violence walk past him and enter Heaven. The population of an entire village, lost in a typhoon that was intensified by climate change, is welcomed. And still he waits.

They file past him, all the people he looked down on. All the people he hurt, directly and indirectly, don't even notice him as they pass. It's like he isn't even there.

Another thousand years pass. Pat Robertson realizes he hasn't had a thing to eat since he died and he is so very hungry.

"Hey!" He shouts at the bouncer. "What's the problem? Don't you know who I am?"

The bouncer rolls half a million eyes at once. "We know exactly who you are."

"Well, alright, then!" Pat Robertson spits out, exasperated, "if you aren't going to help me, get someone here who will!"

The bouncer speaks into its headset again. "We're ready."

A gibbering mass of what is mostly human flesh -- or was, once -- slithers / rolls / flops into Pat Robertson's view. It is covered with mouths that bleed and weep and click their teeth together. Enormous open sores swirl and burst and close and reopen and drip pus and viscera across blistering skin. The faint memory of a smell surrounds it, something like very old cigar smoke and very expensive liquor.

Pat Robertson tries to scream. Arm-like stalks extend from the quivering shape. One resembles a hand at the end of an arm, dripping viscera.

In a flash, it grabs Pat Robertson's hand and shakes it. Something hot and acidic splashes up on his arm, blinds him in one eye. He feels weak. Afraid. Alone. Confused.

Hundreds of mouths try to speak. Dozens of them vomit acrid bile that splashes across his chest. Dozens more silently spit out the lies they've been cursed to repeat for eternity to an audience who will never hear them again.

One mouth speaks clearly. So clearly, it's inside Pat Robertson's head and everywhere else all at once. "I'm Rush Limbaugh," it says. "I'm your new roommate. Come with me."

And that's when Pat Robertson knows. That's when it all hits him, all at once. He's getting everything he deserves.

The line to get into Heaven does not see or hear or notice him, or the Limbeast. They can't hurt anyone, anymore.

The cancerous mass of hate wraps its arm around his shoulder and just like that Pat Robertson finds himself in a vast parody of a cathedral. It's built of bones and flesh and lies. The walls writhe, and he sees that they are not bricks and lathe but bodies wrapped in confederate flags and wearing red hats.

The pews are filled to capacity with the souls of people who followed him in life, hated who he told them to hate. Only their hate is now focused on him, hot and unforgiving. Relentless.

Pat Robertson looks for his companion, but it has vanished. It has left him alone to suffer.

A sermon rises in his chest and pushes against his throat. Pat Robertson is compelled to speak, and as he does each word tears through him like broken glass. He spews his hate and his lies, just as he did in life. Only in this place, he doesn't feel the glee and the satisfaction he always did. No, he feels the pain and the suffering and the agony of every human being who he deliberately hurt. He. Feels. All. Of. It. He tries to stop speaking. Of course, he can not. He can not ever stop.

And Pat Robertson's eternity begins.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 8

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You leave your dad as the doctor goes through some tests with him. You sit out in the hall and stare at the panted brick. It’s so bad. He looks so vacant. He recognises you but he didn’t even remember the cottage. It took him a while to pick out Andy and he just called him the new neighbour. 

Your chest feels constricted and your head pounds each time you catch yourself holding your breath. A gentle weight on your leg startles you. You didn’t even realise Andy was sitting right there with you. 

“You okay?” He asks. You’re getting tired of that question. You’re not. 

“Yeah, uh,” you shake your head and swallow, “I... should call the insurance. The nurse mentioned something about it.” 

“Sure, sure, well, we can go grab your phone and I already gave all your dad’s info at the desk. His wallet’s in the room.” 

“Okay, yeah, I... need all that.” 

You’re just moving through the motions. Those walls are maddening. It’s all you’ve seen for the last day, almost two. You’re going to go crazy from the noise of alarms and call bells and beeping and whirring and everything. 

When you have your dad’s wallet and your phone, you leave Andy. It’s as good an excuse to have some space as it is to actually do something useful. You sit outside on the curb and breathe in the open air. It doesn’t taste like sanitizer and latex. It’s refreshing but chilling. 

You dial out to the number on the back of your father’s insurance card and smooth out the first night’s invoice. You wait on hold, the droning music itchy in your ears. When at last an agent picks up, you answer their questions. 

“Mm, yes, I see here the hospital submitted the claim. The admitting paper work is here on file,” the agent says, “it says the patient had a blood alcohol content above the legal limit. Some sort of motorized vehicle accident?” 

“A jet-ski, yeah,” you answer, blinking as acid brews in your stomach. 

“Right, right, so reviewing everything, the details we got from the healthcare provider and yourself, the cost of the room will be covered up to sixty percent and any diagnostics and testing do not qualify for coverage.” 

“What?” You puff out, “that doesn’t make sense. He has insurance.” 

“His insurance doesn’t cover injuries sustained under the influence of intoxicating substances. It’s typical insurance policy. You can access the terms under his account number through our app. If you have an email, I would be happy to forward a copy--” 

“No, no, this can’t--” You press your palm to your forehead as panic swirls in your chest and chokes you, “how... how are we going to pay for all this?” 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, I wish I had an answer for that, but I can only speak on eligibility--” 

“I know,” you cut off sharply, “I know. I’m not—I'm sorry, I’m upset. Thank you. Thanks. I... have a good day.” 

You hang up and have to keep from throwing the phone. God, you always knew your dad’s drinking would get him hurt and now it’s going to bankrupt him. You nearly keel over at the thought of your tuition washing down the drain. It’s a selfish concern but you have three years behind you, you’re so close to the finish line. 

Who cares about a degree. You can’t lose your dad. You rub your eyes until they stop tingling and get up. You tamp down your distress and head inside. 

You approach your father’s room and find Andy waiting outside. He sits up as you near. He gives a tight-lipped expression, somewhere between a frown and a smile. You fold up the bill and and your dad’s wallet and clutch it against your phone. 

“Everything okay?” He asks. 

You’re so tired. You blow out between your lips. He’s done enough. He doesn’t need to worry about this. 

“Yeah, uh, yeah, just sitting on hold forever,” you grumble. “How’s dad?” 

“I think he’s doing alright. They said they need to do a bit more. Do some scans. X-rays, MRI, stuff like that. He’s going to be here for a while.” 

“Oh, I... makes sense,” your lips trembles and you make it stop. Each night is more money. You tuck the wallet and phone into your pocket. “I’m going to check on him.” 

“Okay, want me to come?” 

“No,” you say abruptly. “No, I just... want a moment.” 

“Sure, sweetheart, whatever you need.” 

You go inside the room and find your dad with his eyes closed. You stop beside his bead and stare. The large bandage around his head reminds you of the damage done. Damage that likely can’t be undone. 

“What’re you staring at?” He opens his eyes. 

You give a start and cough, “sorry, dad, I... I was checking on you.” 

“You look like crap,” he says in his blunt way. That makes you laugh. “Andy says you been chasing your tail all around.” 

“I... I’m worried.” 

“I hit my noggin, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, I’ll have you back in time for prom.” 

You shy away as if you’ve been slapped. You search his face. He’s not kidding. 

“Dad, I... I finished high school three years ago.” 

His face slackens and fear ripples over him, “three years?” 

You touch his arm, “it’s okay. The doctor said it will take you some time to get back to normal.” 

“Mmm,” he hums, “yeah, I don’t feel very normal.” 

You’re quiet. What can you say? You’re as scared as he looks. 

“You gotta go,” he says suddenly, “get some sleep.” 

“What? No, I’ll stay and sleep here.” 

“On the floor? Nah, don’t be dumb,” he looks towards the door. You follow his gaze and find Andy watching, “Andy, you take her and make her get some sleep. You can come back tomorrow, kiddo.” 

“But--” 

“Now don’t be stubborn. You get that from me,” he points at you but his hand is weak and shaky. “’sides, I’m tired.” 

“No problem, Doug,” Andy says as he breaks the threshold, “we all need to rest up, huh?” 

You look between them and hide your chagrin. You don’t appreciate Andy listening in like that. You’re sure he’s just concerned but his help is starting to turn suffocating. 

[lovelysakuryay]

EDIT: This post has been gaining traction, just wanted to state this post made for the riots which had been occurring starting 6th August.

To my fellow uk tumblr users, in particular my fellow POC and immigrant tumblr users, i know that there is a shit ton of riots going on simultaneously today. please be careful and try not to leave your house unless you absolutely have to.

this post isn’t intended to spread hate or fear but rather to emphasise how important your safety in all of this is.

and if you do happen to be outside in the time of these riots, please try doing so in groups.

Here’s first aid advice if you are hit by an acid attack.

If you’re a victim of an attack call the Police on 101 (to report a crime that has already happened i.e your car windows were smashed) or 999 if it’s an emergency/people are in danger.

If you’re on public transport and you’re a victim of an attack text the British Transport Police on 61016 with the train/underground you are in, what the next stop is and a brief description of the issue. Always call 999 if it’s an emergency.

If you or anyone you know needs health advice and it isn’t life threatening, call 111 or go on the 111 website.

I know some people are going out to defend their mosques, if you are take some form of head protection with you as at the past riot’s they have been throwing bricks.

If your mental health takes a turn for the worst you can call the Samaritans line on 116 123 and always call 999 if you feel you are unable to keep yourself from harm.

And finally, below is a list of charities you can contact if you feel you need further support or you would like to donate:

- Exit Hate: a charity set up to help people walk away from extremism. they also provide support for family members of extreme people.

- Stop Hate UK: 24 hour hate-crime reporting hotline

- Migrant Voice: a charity helping migrants advocate for themselves

- Refugee Action: helping refugees re-build their lives

[srbachchan]

DAY 5928

Jalsa, Mumbai May 11/12, 2024 Sat/Sun 1:16 AM

🪔 ,

May 12 .. birthday greetings to Ef Deepa Krishna .. Ef Iris Sharara .. and Ef Svetlana Beregovaya from Russia 🇷🇺 .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

... when you decide to be lazy .. not do anything .. go against any daily confirmed schedules .. to do and be by the self ..

that is the day the 'not do anything' shall begin to drive the most in reverse .. circumstances shall build your being to 'BE' .. to be the most ..

the principles of life - whoever guides them - or whoever designs them, shall never follow in its entirety, to what you desire or want ..

for .. if everything is conducting itself to your desires and wants , then your place here is an error ..

and these errors shall never be resolved to the fullest and desired results ..

we are brought here for this purpose .. to resolve .. and we discover that there is no solution for the resolve .. and we suffer and endeavour and lament and bring blame to 'karma' and fate .. because that is the finality of the solution ..

accept it .. or be steam rolled in this oblivion of living ..

it shall be expected for you to resolve .. and one upon the other blanket indulged duvets shall be wrapped around you .. some of your own being, some engulfed by the 'tuck in' from another or the 'other' ..

do not and never be oblivious of the 'other' .. psychological parametrics and literary gymnastic parallel bars, roman rings, and wooden horses on comforted landing softeners shall evidently be present for motionless stationary still landings .. but ever the nadiacomăneciesue scorings are a misguidance .. computerised ratings of life shall never be computed with the perfect10 ..

resolve is never singular .. it needs a companion .. not the obvious kind , but the one that duplicates the singular, in its own resolve , to resolve the resolve .. which as I said, never ever does be in fructification ..

go live .. bear the bricks and the bats that come your way .. hold up that symbolic racquet to swipe away the forehand double handed backhand in the volleyed tram lined courts .. play the deuce, advantage, and back to the deuce .. this game shall not have the grand slam result ..

My care and love to all ..❤️

Amitabh Bachchan

GO !!

get out of the wave and taste the salt ... the reaction acid with the base of the chlorinated sodium !!!

[wynnyfryd]

more spice for worm’s birthday! 🥳🥳🪱

told @wormdebut i’d find all the sexy cut content to celebrate today lol, here’s the original version of the kiss from chapter 8 that got edited because eddie was being too hot mean

—

“Eddie, wait,” Steve says as he pushes through the side door to the alleyway.

Eddie’s agitated, still worked up from the show, limbs working in jerky, irritated movements as he fishes for his cigarettes and slams the pack against his palm. He’s covered in sweat, wearing nothing but his thin t-shirt and his ripped up jeans, and Steve moves closer to him — doesn’t want him to be cold. “Look, it’s not what you—”

“Not what I think?” Eddie bites, turning on him with an acidic smile. “I don’t think anything, but thanks for coming out, Steve. You should get back to your girl.”

For fuck’s sake. “She’s not my-”

Steve cuts himself off with a frustrated growl, because Eddie’s turning away, lifting a cigarette to down-turned lips, and the words are getting all jumbled, getting lost on the way from Steve’s dumb brain to his stupid mouth. He can’t figure out the quickest way to say it: that Nancy’s not his girl; that she probably never was, even when they were together.

That he’s so fucking tired of not having Eddie’s mouth on his.

He shoves Eddie against the wall; brackets him between his arms, palms braced on either side of his head, breath coming harsh in the shallow space between them, and Steve presses in and pants, “You have three seconds to tell me to stop before I—”

“Stop.”

Eddie’s eyes are wide, round and bright; a flash of real fear for just a second and then it’s gone.

Steve stops. Doesn’t move a muscle; shudders out a breath. The flickering streetlight casts strange shadows over the planes of Eddie’s face, and he looks beautiful, terrified then terrifying as he relaxes against the wall. Steve feels the air between them shift, sees Eddie’s eyes go hooded as he tips his chin up, sinful smirk spreading as he licks lazily at his teeth.

“Take a step back. Keep your hands against the wall.”

It’s deep. Controlled. Here’s what’s about to happen.

Steve does what Eddie tells him, and Eddie slips free from his cage; ducks out under Steve’s arms and moves to stand behind him, flip their positions, press Steve in until his cheek brushes the brick. The brick is rough, soot-soaked — this used to be the industrial district, and all the buildings bear the scars; bright red bricks turned black, grime that clings to the city’s bones and scrapes against Steve’s jaw. He should feel disgusting, covered in filth, but he feels anointed, scrubbed raw as Eddie pushes him harder against the wall; hard against his ass, harsh breath in his ear.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, licking a line up Steve’s neck, “such a sweet thing, aren’t you?” He palms the back of Steve’s skull. “So obedient.”

“Eddie,” Steve moans weakly. His hips jerk, and it hurts, the surface rough and cold even through his jeans. “Eddie, please.”

“Please what, baby?” The words come on a whisper that sets off alarm bells in Steve’s ears. Danger, danger, danger. Eddie tongues at the cut of his jaw.

“Please- pretend it’s morning.”

Ask me again in the morning. If you still mean it, ask me then.

[heartfullofleeches]

I see alien and conspiracy theorist reader who is also hilariously oblivious/ refuses to believe the fact Alien is an alien. Like they're too OBVIOUS about it and it doesn't line up with their theories about what the ACTUAL aliens walking among us are like. Like, it can't be Alien, they don't have crab claws or a lizard tongue or anything. They don't even have a tail rendered invisible by hologram, but Alien doesn't mind when reader grabs their ass to check.

This is exactly where I was going with that-

Alien wouldn't even be in reader's radar for potential suspects. Their frequent insistence they're just a regular human guy is a little suspicious, but no real alien would walk around wearing a mask like his because it'd just draw unwanted attention to them. Writes off their glowy bones as paint. The fact they're more flexible than rubber is just a genetics thing.

Alien thinks it's nice to have some recognize them as human at first - but eventually they start to think how hot cool it would be to be the extraterrestrial reader scraps to a table in their study and grills for hours about their anatomy and the place they originate from.

-

"Did you bring the stuff?"

"Yea, gimme a sec."

Fiddling with the gate to the laboratory, your assistant turns their back to you as they retrieve a small vial from their pocket. Alien pushes the gum they'd been chewing against the wall of their mouth, gathering the saliva collected from their glands on their tongue and filling the bottle with the blackish substance. They grab a bag of white powder from another pocket and dumps it into the small opening. The concoction bubbles, fumes crawling along the cylinders walls as they face you once more. They push you behind them - sealing your body with theirs as they raise their fist.

Hurling the vial, its glass shatters on impact in an explosion of black sludge and white smoke. The slime eats away at padlock holding the gate closed and enough of the wall for you to poke your head through before Alien finally kicks what remains open. They stand off to the side, bowing as they extend their arm forward.

"After you."

Your eyes linger on the smoke wisping into the air. "What... was that?"

"My spit. Mix it with baking soda it becomes corrosive..... or was it acidic?"

"...Right. Well, let's get this over with before anyone arrives. We're lucky this was all this place really has in terms of security." You ease past Alien who skips behind you as you march towards laboratory's doors. Not wasting what little time you have, you pull off your backpack as you walk - removing the test tube brought with you from its protective sleeve. Alien eyes the teal tinted fluid sloshing around in the container curiously - a strange sense of unease hitting their stomach like a brick.

"So.... if I'm allow to ask questions - what uh... what are we doing here again?"

You hold the vial up for then to see - contents fluorescent in the moon light. "I found this strange substance on a tee shirt I left in my bathroom. It's oddly sweet, but left my mouth with a tingle sensation after I tasted it."

Beads of sweat roll from their neck down their shirt. "You... tasted it?"

Alien thinks for a while. They had broken into your house while you were away. They found your shirt in your bathroom. It smelled just like you. Kinda tasted like you too. They thought they cleaned up everything after they were done. They did not.

"Well I had to make sure it wasn't something I ate. This is clearly a sign. Once I get my hands on the microscopes in this lab I'll finally have concrete proof of aliens!"

Alien snatches the vial from you and throws it into the tree-lining. "On second thought let's just go hunting for aliens like normal people."

"What the hell-"

Alien tightly grips your shoulders. "You can have another taste once we're official, but you are not putting my fluids under any lenses until we are engaged!"

[afreakingdork]

Writing Request: OC x Raph Fluff After Fight ❤️

We got @derp-the-arson-cat with a request for a patch-up between her OC, Eve, and Raph after a big fight.

From now until the poll closes if you can prove to me that you voted hassan/mikey in this poll then I will write any short 100-400 word request like below or draw you a doodle of your choosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

Only sweetness under the cut~

Why didn't she understand!?

He was only trying to protect her.

He went out of his way.

He always had and she never said a word.

He walked on the outside of the street and she only smiled at him.

He had stood a menacing force when someone had tried to yell at her in line and she had disengaged instead of diffusing the situation.

He knew Leo who knew a guy who knew another who had some choice words for a location Eve was heading on a trip with friends. When he suggested she move her timetable up there from night to day, she had hugged him for his thoughtfulness.

Why was she upset now?

They had great communication.

They spent long hours talking.

She was his sweet world.

Yet the green apple of his eye wouldn't speak to him because he had protected her from an acid spitting mutant. He did his job, the one hat had spent an equal amount discussing, and not only was the hero, but her hero. He stood in the way when a shot was fired and protected her so not even a droplet could permeate her lovely skin.

It had taken a single punch to knock the guy out.

It had taken a single second for her to blow up at the sight of him.

He guessed he did have a certain look that demanded it.

Why didn't he understand?!

They were in a partnership.

He was always aware of the give and take.

Where he doted on her, she made sure those scales were even.

His caloric intake was through the roof and no matter how many times he offered her the last piece, she always made sure to split it with him.

When they were out, he didn't always have the best blind-spot vision, and he easily let her steer him through even the thinnest of crowds.

He let her lead with a full heart and trusted her decision when she found it time to talk instead of smash opponents.

Yet here he was, her gorgeous red snapper, scorched with a new line of scars.

Another permanent set that would join the others.

His lost eyes.

His chopped tail.

His missing arm.

Robot replacement or not, those scales that she loved to rub against hers were now dotted with craters that were sure to break into shiny spots. They'd be smooth to the touch after a long while, but they'd be indents where his muscles should have been packed under tight cords. She couldn't stand that he would put himself in harm's way, especially when she had it.

The newly turned Bombardier Beetle mutant simply hadn't know how to control himself. A bug nut from what she could tell based on the way he was spitting beetle facts, he was nervously prattling on and drooling out acid that was apparently supposed to come from somewhere else.

He was scared.

He was a danger, but not to anyone if he could be soothed.

She hadn't mean to startling him from his information fugue state when she got his attention.

She could have easily dodged his acid screech.

No, Raph had jumped in unnecessarily.

Raph had hurt himself again.

Raph had thought for the thousandth time that he was the tank and shield necessary to protect his brothers.

His family.

Her.

She had to take a moment.

If she had stayed then she would have said things in anger.

Things she didn't mean.

Things she did, in a way, but weren't right for the context.

She'd stormed off demanding he not follow her and he respected her there.

He always respected her.

She sighed against the cool brick she had tucked in against.

Where was he now?

Probably waiting just where she left him like her dutiful knight.

That was one way to think of him.

Only she as his supposed queen wished he would finally set down the armor.

She wanted him on the throne with her as she saw him.

Equal in care and comfort.

"Eve..." A sugared and shy voice come from her right.

She looked with a twitch of her tail that always came when she saw him.

She then looked away because no matter how many butterflies he conjured, she was still mad.

He was breaking the trust she thought they had figured out yet again.

"I think... I get why you're mad." He spoke with a tilt of his torso.

She looked over him as coolly as she could.

"It stings..." He told her by raising up his arm.

As tears welled in his eyes.

As his heart broke because she had walked away.

Maybe because he was injured, but more so because she had left him alone.

He put himself in the position he did out of love.

He found himself disposable if those he cared about were safe.

"Why do you keep doing this?" She spoke and only then realized how close she was to crying.

"I know..." His eyes fell along with salty drips.

She was upon him in a second and digging into her bag. "Raph, we can't keep doing this. You have to stop. I had that guy. It would have been fine. You're not..."

She ran her fingers around his new spots.

"You're not indestructible."

"Just close to it?" He chuckled.

She shot him a glare so sharp that it dwarfed him.

it felt strange on her face, but it was necessary.

"We gotta get ointment on this. Clean it..." She told his bicep.

"Eve, I'm sorry. I-"

"Sorry enough to stop?"

He made a weary noise that begged her to reconsider.

Communication and compromise.

Those were the hallmarks of healthy relationships.

Give and take for coexistence.

It worked both in your favor and not as you operating in a world full of other people.

What was the middle ground for this?

Before he could stop her, she kissed his first burn.

The residual sizzle tingled on her lips.

"Eve!"

She was just quick enough with her less bulky body and got in a few more pecks before he pulled her away.

"What are you doing?!"

Her mouth burned now and she used it to smile at him.

His eyes held horror.

"Is this what it's like?" She told him with each word scorched. "To sacrifice yourself for someone else's comfort? It hurts..."

"Eve... Please... That's not..."

"Is it?!" She pushed on his limb so she could see at his eye level. "You think it doesn't hurt me every time you get injured? Every time you do, it's just not patching you up! It's like every cut on you is one on my heart because that's what you are! I had to show you!"

Without a second thought, he kissed her.

The burn didn't leave, but it was shared.

It split the load and with a pucker of saliva it calmed to an irritant at best.

"Raph..."

"I can't promise I won't do it again." He kept her close with all of him trying to get a piece.

She held him in return.

"It's in my nature. Heck, it's my second one!" He chuffed with a raw throat. "But I'll try. I'll try to think before I act, but..."

"That's a big ask!" She choked on lighter tears and squeezed his head.

"As big as me?" He gave a nervous churr like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to be in higher spirits.

She would make sure he could rumble with a contentedness that shook the very time. "Bigger than your ninpo."

"That's Godzilla big!" He adjusted her load.

"I still think you can go bigger than that..." She thought openly.

"There's a limit."

"Oh now there is?" She shot him a sly look.

He bled guilt and a quivering lip.

"Stings, hm?" She touched his cheek.

"Nah, my arm a little, but your kiss? Sweet as can be!"

"Shame... I had some minty lip balm on me..." She dug into her pockets.

He lit up in a way that said he wanted it, but when she glanced, he looked away like he didn't.

"Take me home?"

"Always." He spoke without hesitation.

[sarsaparillaart]

“The 12-made-10 and the broken dance. The Accelerando. The Change of Ladies. The Metronome and the Song. The Dance-Architect and Rhythm-Draw. The Body. The Chassé. The Rèvèrence. The Unheard Objection.”

Swordtember 7 - Moon

Longer lore piece below. Rendering nacre is harder than I thought btw.

10 Invocations for 10 Moons

O Milkmoon! Life and growth and rot and unloving lust. All things that spread because they must, and all things that take because they can. You the ancient forest and the stinking city, the corn in the field and the smut upon it. You, language and terrible ideas that spread through furtive whispers, poisoning the dwelling minds. You, the disgusting undying evergrowing! The beautiful cancer inside all things! O Halcyon! Grow!

O Coalmoon! The everflowing torrent of change. The violent storm of light and fire and lightning and smoke! You, the forge that melts the world and mixes and ruins and fixes and starts again! You, the white-hot flame that makes glass from deserts and brick from clay and ash from men! You, the violent storm that changes them again to something new! O Labile! Change!

O Saltmoon! The long-held breath; existence without resolution! You yourself the fear of death. You, salted fish and mummified kings! You, the unmarred monument-stone and the author's name on a page! History now and never-past. The unbroken line and unmoving sky! You, still water and rock-hard bread. You who cannot stop, for you cannot move! O Sterile! Continue!

O Winemoon! The impossible dance, shattered legs, and blooded throat! The thirst for drink that already pumps through veins! You, the song that never ends! The silent  verses that flow in a torrents from the lungs of all. The melody in birdsong and the rhythm in the beating of hearts! You the first, last, and million dances unending! The scurrying of rats and the procession of pilgrims! The flowing of water and the whirling of atoms! O Blithe! Revel!

O Nacremoon! The beauty in numbers; the constant ticking up and down and ceaselessness of a spiraling fractal. You the tides of gain and loss. You the lies of luck! You, outlier in an infinite range! The meaningless profundity between digits! You who live in the clink of coins and the arc of arrows. You which breathes probability and bleeds geometric form!  You, the one perfect thing! O Mnemonic! Reckon!

O Silkmoon! The billion lines in a billion webs. You, the strands connecting me to you and you to them and them to me! The lines that connect our eyes to these words and these words to their meanings in a million doomed languages! You, the threads of love and hatred and fealty. The connections between the disconnected! The net of staggering complexity that ties everything that does and does not exist! You, worm-spider in the shape of a moon, spinning and knitting and cutting and shaping! O Sibling! Tether!

O Bilemoon! Flesh and beautiful body. The face perfect, all sharp curves and smooth edges! The glow of sickened health. You, the muscular fat rippling across wide tracts of flesh! You, fast-strength! You skin radiant! You eyes clear! The cutless and malleable form radiating death and sex! You the beautiful parts of existing! You incarnation incarnate! The singular point of body! O Chassis! Live!

O Sugarmoon. You the sky and sea! The wanderer and a researcher. The seer and a thinker! You, the answerless question; the sweet smell on the wind and far-off shore from whence it came! You, the prow of every ship. The boots of every wanderer. The wind in sails! You, promise of discovery! Onward. Onward. Onward! The acidic desire for discovery. The thousand miles within a step and the step  of one thousand miles. You, the hidden name! The reason to search. The lie that gives discovery stronger meaning. You, the push- pull freeing us from stagnation! The sky and sea and the vast stretches of land. The roads and paths and meadows and monuments and wonders on the page and in the minds of explorers. O Peregrine! Seek!

O Venommoon! The vengeance for a broken thing. The well-undeserved punishment. You, the thing that knows sins and castigation! Rejected fate. The death of the young and the continuation of the old. You, the steel-flash of retribution. You, implacable justice. The death of the killer. You, impatience. You, rash action! Destiny taken into unworthy hands. The failed severing of cause and effect, and the successful bending of rules. You, the rebel-judge! O Bellicose! Try!

O Oilmoon! The wretched and unfair hive of golden finery and silver-wealth. You, power manifest! You, monarch in wing-flesh! The servitude of slaves; golden light on the crown; silver light on the usurper's sword. You, the right to rule and the power to enforce! You, every-kenning. The scurrying ants underfoot and the marching steps of soldiers above. You who force the bent knee. Command. You the law and the tax and the splendor and wealth of vast nations. You, the honeycombed tracts of land, the spread and focused will. You, the draw of fealty, the protection of leaders,the fear of tyrants. O Primate! Domineer!

[daydream-cement]

Organs in the Wash Ch. 7

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Authors Note: Thank u v much to my beta baby @bri-sonat <3 This chapter is a little intense so please take care of yourself during and after reading <3 but if you wanna skip and come back for ch. 8 that's okay too :) I left part of some Deseret untranslated. I wonder if one of you can figure out the translation...

Warnings: Kidnapping, serial killers, blood, torture (cutting), and psychological abuse

Relinquishing his grip on your hair, the killer backed away, retreating back to a workbench. Now given the opportunity, you were able to glance around the room, taking in your surroundings. Concrete floors, walls lined with aged bricks, and the only light sources were a few dangling bulbs. Old metal shelves lined the walls, containing old paint buckets, tools, and miscellaneous housing fixtures that he had probably used to fix things in your apartment at one point or another. If you had to guess, you believed you were in the basement of your apartment building. But why would he choose to stay so close to where he had taken you from?

“You know... I always thought I was going to be a doctor. You can see by my handiwork that I have a steady hand. Maya was an interesting case... I bled her first. Hung her from the rafters above you and let it all run down the drain.” His tone was so casual, like he was describing his last trip to the grocery store. At the mention of Maya hanging from the rafters, you glance upwards and see a chain dangling overhead. The clinking of metal against the workbench draws your attention back down to him, “Washing the organs was the fun part for me. It really gave me an up close and personal look at each of them. After I called the police, I knew I had made a mistake by putting the organs in the wash.”

The effort to talk makes your entire body ache and your voice cracks as you speak, “...So you killed Abbey?” 

He turns around to look at you, delighted you were willing to have a conversation with him, “Exactly. I disemboweled her. I’m keeping her organs nice and fresh in some ethanol on the shelves over there.” He then gestured to the metal shelf with the paint cans that you now realized were filled with human organs, not paint, “She struggled so much. It was so annoying. The police will be lucky if they get an ID on her with what I did to her. With some patience and experimenting, hydrofluoric acid isn’t that hard to make yourself... The internet really is wonderful.”

He crosses the room, approaching a different workbench. Well, you thought it was a workbench, but the straps hanging off of it told you it was where he planned to torture you. Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t want to show your fear, but this was your nightmares come to life, “And why me?”

He paused what he was doing, only for a moment, to think. He resumed preparing the dissection table for you as he spoke, “At first... proximity. It was easy access, but in the end, it was for the challenge. I would have thought you had recognized my voice, but from the look on your face earlier, you really didn’t know it was me, did you?”

“No...”

“Of course, you didn’t... Girls are so stupid... You did surprise me with your ability to understand the Deseret Alphabet. I wasn’t particularly connected to the language, but every serial killer needs his thing, ya know?” He smiled fondly and gestured wildly with his hands, clearly passionate and remorseless in his killing, “You’re special. I’m going to let you choose the phrase I carve into you. Maybe we can write a sweet letter for your boyfriend to read when she finds your corpse.” 

------

“Repeat those phrases from the letter back to me again.” Robin requested as she moved slowly about your apartment, checking every nook and cranny for anything unusual other officers may have missed. 

Miranda pulled the notebook from her jacket, flipping through the pages to find the translation to the letter, “‘The answer is so near, yet you are blind to the possibilities. Many of these old buildings hold more secrets than you can even imagine.’ And it was also signed, ‘your neighbor.’”

Robin only hummed in response, her eyes trailing along the baseboards for anything that could indicate ‘secrets’ like hidden doors or passages that could have given the killer access to the apartment. Her eyes stopped when confronted with your bookcase and she called over to Miranda to help her, “Here, help me move this bookcase.” 

Tucking the notebook back in her vest, Miranda took two long strides to grasp at the bookcase, pushing while Robin pulled. The blonde huffed as she heaved the bookcase out of the way, “Do you think there is a hidden door or something?” 

“That’s what makes the most sense to me...” Robin shrugged, glancing around the bookcase to the exposed wall to find nothing out of the ordinary.

“Nothing... Robin... What am I going to do? I need to find her. I-” Miranda’s hands move up to her hair, ranking through the locks roughly as to take her aggression out somewhere. She began to pace across your apartment, her chest beginning to heave from the stress and panic that was setting in. The sound of Robin’s ringtone made both of the women stop in their tracks. 

“Just-” Robin pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced down at Adrian’s contact glowing on her home screen. Before she took the call, she looked at Miranda intently, providing her with a couple comforting words, “We will find her. She will be back with you in no time...” 

Answering the call, Robin placed it on speakerphone so she wouldn’t have to relay all of the information back to Miranda later on. Adrian spoke before either of the women could get a word out, “Get back down to the station. We caught him.”

Robin let out a light laugh, unable to believe Adrian could be talking about the serial killer they had been searching relentlessly for, “Caught who?”

“The killer. There is no reason for you to be in Ms. L/n’s apartment any longer.” Adrian’s voice was tainted with annoyance. 

Miranda’s eyes widened and she snatched the phone from Robin’s hand, holding the speaker up to her mouth. The way her voice filled with hope made Robin’s heart ache, “Is Y/n there? Is she with you? Can I talk to her?”

“We haven’t tracked her down yet. We are interrogating him right now to get her location. He keeps feeding us this bullshit that he doesn’t know who we are talking about. We are checking his ‘so-called’ alibis, but we are sure they will fall through.” Miranda’s face immediately fell at Adrian’s response, a scowl returning to her features. Robin and Miranda exchanged a glance, hesitant to believe they had found the killer so easily. The women were so confident in their suspicions the killer was still in the building that they doubted the other detective’s abilities. 

Robin took her phone back from Miranda with a roll of her eyes, “We are going to continue with our theories until you confirm or disprove his alibis.” 

“Waste of time, Griffin. I want you both-” 

“Yeah, we will finish up here and get down to the station when we are done.” Robin noticed the way Miranda’s face fell at the imminent order from their superior, so she opted for the path of disobedience. She cut off Adrian mid-sentence and hung up when she ended her sentence. The brunette smirked at her partner, “Let’s find a killer.”

-------

“Now... Don’t be causing any trouble. You are going to get on this dissection table without any fuss or I’ll really make you regret it, hmm?” He spoke to you like you were a toddler which was incredibly infuriating. If you were going to die anyway, wouldn’t an attempt at escaping be worth the try? On the other hand, if you were going to die, would trying to escape be worth the additional torture? 

He pulls the dissection table to your side, a horrible scraping noise accompanying the action from the metal sliding against the concrete floors. 

“After you, I think I’ll move on to Brisbane... They have the medical school there. I’m sure with all of my experience, I could really impress them with my talents. University of Queensland Mayne... I could be a surgeon.” He situated the table meticulously and moved to fetch a large overhead light he would no doubt use to accurately carve his letter to Miranda into you. His delusional mindset made your brow furrow, “Think of all of the good you will be doing by allowing me to practice on you. This is very altruistic of you.” 

Monotone and dripping with sarcasm, you couldn’t help yourself, “Happy to help.” 

Flicking on the light, he adjusted it over the table and you were then blinded by the LED bulbs, “I knew you would understand. Now, let’s get you all set up here so we can get started.” 

He squatted in front of your chair, untying your legs and continuing his friendly chatter, “I could even continue my extra-curricular surgeries for practice when I’m in Brisbane, ya know? After we are done here, I have a little timer set up to burn this apartment building to the ground. I can collect on that insurance money and buy a couple properties in Brisbane, rent them out maybe? I have time to figure it all out.”

“Oh, sure.”

Circling the chair, he began to untie your hands, reminding you to behave before he continued telling you about his master plan, “Now, no running... I made pretty good money with the laundromat and as a landlord, but you really need to follow your dreams.”

From the moment the rope slipped from your wrists, you bolted, scrambling away from him as quickly as possible. He must not have been expecting you to run as he stumbled and tripped over the chair you had been sitting in. 

You really had no clue where to run, but you dashed past his work bench, pausing momentarily to lift the far side of it and send the tools crashing and skidding across the floor. Hopefully, if you made enough noise, someone nearby would be able to hear you calling for help. You screamed for help, calling out Miranda’s name, and calling out your own name for any passerby to hear. 

As you moved through the basement, you could hear his angry shouting behind you, “Get back here, you dumb bitch.”

Glancing back over your shoulder, he wasn’t any closer, but you figured you should keep throwing things in his path. Passing by one of his beloved shelves of organs, you yanked the shelf to the floor, taking seconds longer than you should have when you saw him sprinting even closer. The horrible smell of preserved organs and ethanol filled the air when the cans burst open upon hitting the floor. 

Continuing down a hallway, you realized the opportunity for you to be trapped was growing high. He groaned in frustration behind you, pausing momentarily to look at all of his hard work undone by your action. You attempted to rattle the handle on two different doors to only find them locked. Further down the hallway, there was a final door and metal bars moving up the wall, leading to a hatch in the ceiling. 

You could hear the sound of his feet hitting the floor- he must have jumped over the fallen shelf, resuming his pursuit of you. Ignoring the door, you assumed it would be locked like the others, so you choose to climb the ladder instead. Your heart dropped when your foot slipped on the second step, knowing you had wasted a split second and the odds of him grabbing your legs and pulling you to the floor was high. 

You made it up another two steps when your foot slipped again. The adrenaline and anxiety from being caught was making your entire body shake. A glimmer of hope shone through when your hand grasped the latch of the hatch, pushing upwards. It was beyond heavy, but you were able to shift it upwards an inch. 

A hand around your ankle causes you to yelp out a final cry for help through the small opening leading to the outside world. His other hand came to grasp the back of your shirt and he gave you a yank backwards and you were filled with self-disgust when your hands slipped from their places on the latch and ladder. He sent you flying to the floor, your head hitting the brick of the basement wall. 

The last thing you heard was the hatch slamming shut under the weight of itself. 

----

Miranda was trying her best to help Robin, but the pressure of finding you was starting to get to her. She began pacing back and forth across the back wall of your apartment while Robin continued searching for anything out of the ordinary. The shorter woman shot her partner an annoyed glance, wishing Miranda could set aside her feelings for you to make headway on finding you, “Miranda! Can you help me here?”

“I’m doing my best, Robin! Get off my ass!” Miranda shouted, stopping in her tracks and stomping her foot in defiance. A hollow sound from beneath her echoed from the strike of her boot. Furrowing her brow, Miranda glanced down to the floor, repeating the action once more and receiving the same response. Shifting over a meter, Miranda threw her foot down once more to hear solid ground instead of the echo. 

“There is no need to throw a tantrum, Hilmarson. We will figure this out.” Robin must not have noticed the change in noises like Miranda had as she rolled her eyes at the blonde. The brunette’s phone began to buzz in her pocket once more and she huffed in frustration at seeing Adrian’s contact once more. Accepting the call and shoving the phone to her ear, Robin was less than welcoming to her boss, “What?”

“Where the hell are you?” Adrian shouted into the receiver of his office phone. 

Robin glanced over at Miranda kneeling on the floor, her fingers dancing around the edges of floorboards, attempting to lift them from their place, “...investigating a lead.”

Miranda studied the floorboards, noting a different wear pattern at the edge of where the hollow noise began. Pulling a pocket knife from her vest, Miranda wedged it into the boards, prying up the board enough for her to push her fingers under it and lift. A group of boards were attached to one another, revealing a hole in the floor, a ladder lining one of the walls. 

“The suspect’s alibi is airtight. The dental records came back on the second victim. Her name was Abbey Moore.”  Robin was only paying partial attention to Adrian’s words as she watched Miranda. “Both the victims and this kid all have something in common; they are all tenants of the same landlord. We are thinking the landlord could be behind it all.”

At the sight of the secret tunnel, Robin’s eyes widened, a satisfied smile spreading across her face in knowing they had been right. It all made perfect sense that the landlord had been the one to frame his male tenant, kill the two women, and kidnap you. While she didn’t know his motive, he had the opportunity and access to harm his tenants, “It’s him. The landlord did it.”

“We need to- You knew?” Adrian couldn’t hide his shock at his detective’s statement. 

Robin crossed the apartment, filling Adrian in before she and Miranda continued their investigation, “We followed Hilmarson’s theory. Send backup back to the apartment building. She found a hatch leading somewhere. We are going to follow it down and see what we can find.”

Adrian barked an order, but it was no use. The constable and detective were too determined to save you and catch a killer, “Get out of there, Griffin. Wait until I get down there with a couple more constables. We don’t know what we are up against here.”

“There is no time. We will leave the hatch open for you to find, Adrian.” Robin shook her head, knowing if she or Miranda were to get hurt due to her continuous disobedience, she would be put on desk duty for the foreseeable future. Robin hung up and shoved her phone in her back pocket, “Okay, Hilmarson. You want to go first, or shall I?”

-------

The horrid agony of a scalpel digging into your forearm brought you back to consciousness. You could sense the blinding LEDs before you even opened your eyes. Your head throbbed and there was a tightness across your chest and legs. Straps held your body in place and your head hitting the bricks earlier had left you with a large gash in the back of your head. You attempted to cry out in pain, but your voice was muffled by a rag that tasted of wood stain causing a burning sensation on your tongue. 

Glancing up from his work, he now donned a pair of magnifying glasses to make sure his work was neat and tidy. He was using a rag doused in hydrogen peroxide to add an extra sting whenever he wiped away the blood, wanting you to suffer as much as possible, not giving you the opportunity to regain your breath between cuts, “You shouldn’t have done that. Now you wont get to choose the little note I leave on your corpse.”

He had only made his way through two words, 𐐔𐐨𐑉 𐐣𐐮𐑉𐐰𐑌𐐼𐐲, and tears had already flooded your eyes and were pouring down your cheeks. His movements were short strokes, making sure to leave enough room on your forearm for everything he wanted to say. If this experience were to be reflective of your death, this was going to be a prolonged and harrowing experience.

[cassiebones]

Speak No Evil (2024)

I have so much that I want to say about this film.

There will be spoilers.

First and foremost, Ben Dalton is THE MOST useless character I have ever seen in any horror movie ever made, and that is saying A LOT because have you SEEN some of the useless bitches in horror movies?

Ben is worse. Here is a list of his transgressions.

Loses his daughter's stuffed bunny (to be honest, I think the other family stole it, but still) and then criticizes her about having it in the first place like???? She's an 11yo with anxiety; LET HER HAVE HER BUNNY.

ALLOWS HIS 11YO DAUGHTER TO RIDE THE BIKE OF AN UNFAMILIAR MAN DESPITE HIS WIFE'S OBVIOUS DISCOMFORT. Like, Louise is clearly Not Okay with her preteen child getting on this strange man's bike, no matter how hot y'all think James McAvoy is. Even with his "family" right there next to them. YOU JUST DO NOT DO THAT. AND IN EUROPE OF ALL PLACES.

Just generally acting like his wife is overreacting every single time she doesn't feel comfortable with something weird this other couple does. And I think he only gets away with it partly because she feels so guilty about cheating on him. But she's reacting pretty normally for all the weird shit they're pulling. And he is obvs in love with Paddy (James McAvoy; legit had to look up the name).

There's a line that Paddy says when Ben asks him "why?" and it is actually super good: "because you let us." Because yeah, Ben is such a fucking pushover, but only when it comes to Paddy. Because he thinks Paddy is cool and because he's a bit in love with him, I swear to God there should have been a kiss scene. And, yes, Louise is also a bit of a pushover, but she's constantly receiving pressure from her husband and sometimes from her daughter and she has that cheater's guilt, so she's inclined to do what they want, unfortunately.

ALLOWS AN UNKNOWN MAN TO BABYSIT HIS CHILD. Like?????????? Louise is also guilty of this, but he convinced her it would be fine. Like no??? My mom and dad would have started packing immediately.

DOESN'T GRAB A HAMMER WHEN THEY ARE GETTING SUPPLIES TO FIX HIS TIRE. LIKE YOU KNOW THESE PEOPLE ARE SHITTY AND MURDEROUS. TAKE THE HAMMER. BRAIN THE MANIAC.

He didn't do SHIT during any fight scene in this movie. It was all Louise as far as I remember. Literally. All he does is drive and hold a ladder up AFTER breaking his knee. He helps move some furniture for barricades but that is the bare fucking MINIMUM. Louise is the one that sprays acid in Paddy's face. Louise is the one that brains Ciara (creep wife) with a brick that ultimately kills her. Agnes is the one that stabs him with a needle. Agnes also finds clever ways to get her parents in private to talk by faking her period. And then ANT is the one who kills Paddy with a hammer. BEN DID FUCKING NOTHING.

That last thing - not killing Paddy - pissed me the fuck off. He could have at least done that one thing. This man has KILLED dozens of people and tried to take your daughter as a child bride AFTER trying to also kill you and you were just gonna let him live??? Poor Ant took out all his trauma with that brick. He's gonna need so much therapy which hopefully is covered by Britain's healthcare system because they live in London and, oh yeah, BEN HAS NO JOB. HIS WIFE QUIT HERS TO FOLLOW HIM. SERIOUSLY FUCK BEN.

There's probably more, but onto the movie.

This couple ignored way too many red flags. The first would have been Paddy (who was an abject stranger at the time, let's not forget) offering to give their daughter a ride. The daughter, Agnes, is eleven, let's not forget, and so probably doesn't have a strong concept of stranger danger, especially for the man who found her precious bunny, Hoppy. The Protagonist Wife, Louise, is uncomfortable with this (presumably because she is a normal human being and mother/woman) but Dad/Ben is like, yeah it's fine. They'll be right back. Look, his wife and child are here. Surely, he wouldn't abandon them.

Bro what

I mean he brings her back, but that's obviously just to build trust. I'm not sure how they continued to actually hang out with this weird af couple because I would have probably blocked them after the whole toilet paper debate IN PUBLIC because I'd be so embarrassed.

But that's just me.

This couple ignores so many red flags. And Ben pressures Louise into not acting like the normal human being that she is. Because he's in love with Paddy. Obviously.

On their first night at the Creep Family's house, Paddy force feeds Louise (a vocal vegetarian) meat. She is too polite to remind them that she doesn't eat meat. This is definitely another test.

Paddy convinces them to jump into a lake in their underwear which??????? They are wearing coats as they go on a walk. Is it not cold??? What the actual fuck? Red Flag

They invite them out to dinner and all three of them get dressed up in nice clothes, only to be told that the kids aren't coming with them and "hey look, it's our random neighbor with a tragic backstory who's gonna watch your preteen daughter and nothing bad is gonna happen at all, look he did a magic trick surely that means he's a swell guy, right?" Red Flag.

Once again, Louise is uncomfy, but Ben convinces her Agnes will be A-OK. Thankfully, she is.

They pull even more weird shit at dinner. Ciara pretends to give Paddy a BJ under the table and Ben and Louise just watch. RED FUCKING FLAG.

At some point, it comes out that Paddy and Ciara have been married for 17 years, which is insane because Paddy is so clearly much older than Ciara (sorry James, but you are aging, my friend) and Ciara doesn't look like she would have been legal SEVENTEEN FUCKIN YEARS AGO. R E D F L A G

While they're away doing that, Ant shows Agnes the watches and tries to make her understand, but he doesn't know sign language (or English, bc I'm so certain that his real parents were from a Norse or Germanic country) and she doesn't really get what he's trying to tell her, so it's all for nought. They move that one watch, though, and that raises a flag for Paddy later.

A red one.

Back at dinner, they saddle Ben and Louise with the bill. Another test that is failed. Also a major red flag.

Louise's cheating plotline comes out because Ben is being a lil bitch and I sort of understand why she cheated because this man is the definition of Small Dick Energy. They have some kind of convo and make up and go to sleep. Then she wakes up a few hours later and goes to check on her kid and finds her - gasp - missing!

So she goes searching and finally finds her in PADDY AND CIARA'S BEDROOM. My theory is that they drugged these kids because as Louise is pulling her daughter out of their bed (like a normal fucking human being), she is just so lethargic. She carries her to the other bedroom and places her down and she just flops over. She could be tired of course, but that's just very weird to me so I'm gonna throw down another red flag. Also I don't think Ant would willingly climb into bed with those two. Neither would Agnes.

So they leave for the first time.

Or they try to.

Agnes forgets Hoppy. I believe she dropped it in Paddy and Ciara's bedroom when she was being pulled out of their bed, but it could have been lost somewhere else. I just cannot believe that somebody who is so dependent and anxious without that bunny would actually forget it like that. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT MEANS THEY HAVE TO GO BACK.

Tbh, my parents would have kept driving and stuck to that "we'll ask them to send it" and if I had kicked the back of the driver's seat like that? I would not be alive anymore.

But of course, despite Ben being a dick about her bunny, he finally turns around and they go back.

There, he gets out of the car and tells them to stay and he'll be right back.

Do they stay in the car? No ofc not. It's a horror movie.

Louise doesn't wait like twenty seconds before she gets out, too, leaving her daughter. That's a red flag on her this time tbh.

They go in and talk to the family and Ciara says she was just trying to soothe Agnes because Louise wasn't coming (as if you have no idea where she was, bitch? please) and the family is placated and convinced to stay longer.

Fucking. Idiots.

Paddy takes Ben for a walk at some point and I cannot remember when but I think it may be after they come back. They scream into the woods, which is super weird and a lil gay tbh. I expect a kiss here, but I am disappointed. Sigh. Red Flag behavior.

Agnes and Ant show the parents their dance to Cotton Eyed Joe (a song about an STD that already has an agreed-upon dance, remember?) and Paddy just goes insane. Because of his meltdown, Agnes says she doesn't want to dance anymore, but Paddy convinces Ben who convinces her to dance again. Louise is trying to stand up for her daughter (because, once again, she is a normal human being and loves her child) but Ben is like "it wouldn't hurt" Fuck off, Ben. I hope Agnes goes no-contact with you as soon as she's old enough.

They start to do it again, but Ant is awkward and Paddy loses his shit. Again. So they stop. This whole scene is such a red flag idk how they didn't just leave. Especially after he throws something at Ant. Like???

There's also a scene where Ciara tries to parent Agnes and Louise is rightfully like???? Don't parent my child. And they make another BS Red Flag excuse. Fuck them.

Paddy goes and passes out bc he apparently drank too much and Ant sneaks in and grabs his keys.

This kids is smart as fuck, okay? He does EVERYTHING he possibly can to help this dumbfuck man and his family. He gets the key and plays horrible catch with Agnes, leading her into the basement of the shed where he finally shows her the horrible truth about his "parents", including a picture of him sticking out his tongue with his REAL parents behind him. Agnes, smart child that she is, understands immediately and then makes a plan with Ant to escape.

As she's coming back up the hill, she asks her Asshole of a Father to play catch and he's just like no I'm talking, so she goes and stabs herself in the thigh and pretends to get her first period, which obviously warrants her mother taking her into the bathroom to talk her through it. Then Agnes shows her the photos she took of the photo album and the shit really starts.

They try to escape, I'll give them that. If it hadn't been for fucking HOPPY the damn bunny, they would have been safe and sound (not Ant but tbh RIP). But nope. They make an excuse to leave bc this is a big moment for their daughter so they should be home now.

Nope. Flat tire.

They change the tire.

Hoppy is missing. It's up in the gutter ofc.

Ben climbs the ladder with Paddy at the base. Grabs bunny and throws it down before climbing down.

Oh no. Hoppy is destroyed pretty much. Mom says they'll get it fixed at home haha let's go!

Ben does a very nice thing and tells Ant to get the gate for them, presumably so they can take them with them when they leave. Unfortunately, Paddy has a remote for the gate. So they leave. Finally.

Agnes watches out the rearview window as Paddy just shoves Ant (who cannot swim) into their little pond. Ben, being decent I guess, jumps out of the car, telling them to drive away without them, and into the pond to save this poor, traumatized child.

I'll begrudgingly give him this one. It's the penultimate useful thing he does.

The last one is holding the ladder for them to climb from the house after his wife kills Ciara. He barely holds onto his daughter when she's about to fall off the room.

He. Is. Useless.

This is when the family drops all pretense and shit starts to go down. Louise is a Boss Ass Bitch for the majority of the time. She is the Brains, Brawns, and Badass in this relationship. Agnes is also very smart grabbing the needle and stabbing Paddy with it when he holds her hostage.

This is Ben's fault, by the way. When she climbs down the ladder, he tells ONLY HER to run to the car. Not stay with us so we can protect you. Run to the car when we have no idea where the homicidal maniac who has been nonstop trying to kill us is.

DUMB. FUCKING. BITCH. ASS. BEN.

Agnes paralyzes him, though, and they start to walk to the car. Ben stops to stare down at Paddy. He has a gun. The logical conclusion is to shoot him. Everybody in my theater is chanting "shoot him! shoot him! shoot him!"

Ben does not shoot him. I can practically hear his internal monologue going "it would make me the same as him" bc that's what so many dumbfucks SAY instead of doing what they should.

Ant does not have that internal monologue. His is more like "fuck this fucking motherfucker who fucking killed my motherfucking parents" but he cannot say all that so he just screams as he brains Paddy with a brick (probably the same one that Louise used to kill Ciara).

They watch in horror but, to their credit, they don't stop him.

Good. Green Flag.

That child is gonna need some serious therapy.

Anyway, they finally leave in their Tesla, which has bullet marks in the windshield so I cannot imagine how that's gonna look when they get back to civilization. Oh, btw, the bullet marks were put there by the guy who owned the restaurant they'd eaten at. He was also part of this whole thing. I do not remember what happened to him tbqh.

But as they drive away, shocked by the violence they just witnessed at the hands of their new adopted son, Ant stares straight ahead, numb. Agnes, ever the Empath, gives him Hoppy, as torn up as that poor bunny is, and he finally sheds some tears.

He is gonna need therapy. And Louise needs a divorce. Stat.

This movie was so fucked up, but I know it could have a worse ending.

Worse as in more bleak, not as if actually cinematically bad. The original ended the way it probably would have in real life, unfortunately. But they still have that line:

"Why are you doing this to us?"

"Because you let us."

Which is honestly fantastic. It feels like it's their justification for why they keep targeting these people. They're always wealthy. They force them, at gunpoint, to transfer all their money to them and then they kill the parents and the old child, and then they cut the tongue out of the new one so they can't say anything. Rinse and repeat.

But they do allow them to get away. They do allow them certain freedoms. They continuously push the boundaries of what each couple will take until they can't anymore. Then they strike.

"Because you let us" is such a great line because it is victim blaming at it's finest, but the audience who is watching this movie, seeing the dramatic irony of every boundary push forward, is almost inclined to agree with the antagonists.

Like yeah. You didn't have to go to this farmhouse.

But you did.

You didn't have to eat the meat because you're a vegetarian.

But you did.

You didn't have to pay for their dinner.

But you did.

So many times you could have said no, but you didn't. Because you didn't want to break societal norms and be rude, even though you were so uncomfortable. Because it's not that serious. But it was. You had so many chances to just walk away. You did, but then you came back and allowed yourselves AGAIN to be drawn in and have your boundaries crossed. And then it was too late.

Obviously, we, as the audience, know what is coming so it's so much more frustrating for us to watch them make these mistakes over and over again, but they don't. Still, the decisions they make are so questionable and it's a wonder if we, ourselves, wouldn't have made the same decisions.

There's another line in the film: "You give in when it's Paddy, but I see you have no trouble standing up when it's me."

Another reason why I despise Ben. He placates Paddy in all the ways he wouldn't do for Louise. She is visibly uncomfortable with so much, but he needles her into just accepting it. He pressures her into it. And, as previously stated, part of that acquiescence is her guilt over cheating on him, but it's also just him being a fucking asshole.

These characters are done so well.

James McAvoy, as always, embodies his character so well. He's in his thriller era and he's doing so well.

Mackenzie Davis is also amazing in her role. I feel like Louise's character was used to kind of being in charge of certain things, but her cheating thing is just making her more lenient to her husband, but she obviously like things done a certain way. And she has a lot of empathy and understanding toward her child.

Scoot McNairy plays Ben as this kind of not-tough guy. Like he obviously wants to be the leader of his family and has a complex. He idolizes Paddy for being very rugged and manly and wants to be like that (and also wants to be with dat ass). He is easily talked into doing shit because he thinks that's what he's supposed to do and doesn't want to upset his new (boy)friend.

Aisling Franciosi is really good at Ciara because it's so clear throughout the entire film that she is pretty much just an extension of Paddy. She probably wouldn't be there if Paddy didn't need her to play as his doting wife. She clearly has her own issues, which are probably borne from the fact that she is Paddy's first victim. She didn't deserve her life, but she certainly deserved her death.

The kids, Alix West Lefler (Agnes) and Dan Hough (Ant) were so good. Dan Hough had the hardest role in the movies because he couldn't speak and he had to act like he couldn't speak, but he also had to act like he was acting. He had to pretend to be their son while also trying to alert this family. And Alix was so good at Agnes, as a anxious little girl who is on the cusp of growing up, but still kind of socially anxious. She did it so well.

All the actors really acted their asses off for this film and I was very impressed. 10/10 honestly. This was a great film.

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Appetite

An early timeline piece for Aly, back at the old house before they moved

taglist: @risk606

masterlist

TW: implied kidnapping, starvation, sleep deprivation, emeto mention (doesn't happen), carewhumper, intimate whumper, defiant/stoic whumpee, captivity

It must have been over a week, no way to say it accurately though. Alyssa tried her best to keep up with the sunsets and sunups, as much as it was possible through the little window just below the ceiling. It was facing north, she knew that much, there was never any direct light coming through it, and she saw trees above.

The branches were almost completely stripped of leaves by then, they looked like horribly burnt skeleton hands reaching towards the sky. They were mostly still, eerie, the soft autumn breeze wasn’t strong enough to move them without the foliage to reign in the gently moving wind.

The basement was mostly dark. Although it seemed to never have been finished, the space must have been constructed as a secondary living quarter, or at least it was her best guess. All the way to the left side of the room, the monotony of the brick and concrete of the wall and the floor was broken up by exactly 178 white tiles, surrounding what was supposed to serve as a bathroom. The toilet and sink were mostly decent, the shower looked dark and grimy, not that she could get a close enough look to decide if it was simply dirt or long-dried blood. It was unfinished, there were clear lines on the floor indicating where a wall should have been pulled up. 

The first few days Alyssa found herself barely sleeping, just trying to take the space in. Memorise every detail, so that she can report it when she gets out. She took note of every feature of the two guys whenever they went downstairs to check on her. 

It happened less and less, or time stretched out, as the boredom started to set in. Both of them worked during the day, and whenever the door opened and she heard the stairs creak, she steeled herself to withstand whatever they would throw at her. It wasn’t much. Luke slapped her around for not speaking the first day, but it got old quickly so he gave up, resigned. From then on his visits were brief and uncomfortable at best. He spoke to her, asked questions, and when she didn’t answer he left. 

Alyssa thought if she was boring enough they’d let her leave. Cole told her she was there for entertainment after all. If she could hang on long enough not serving that purpose, they’d surely have no reason to keep her.

Her own boredom was killing her. She started counting the bricks of the wall, after she was sure of the tiles, but the numbers got harder and harder to keep track of. Not sleeping or being fed started getting to her more than she would have liked to admit.

There was no relief to be found on the merciless concrete floor and in metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles. She was getting colder and colder, and she was still wearing her dress - now dirty and ripped up - from the night of the party, it did nothing to warm her body. When Luke caught her curled up and shivering he asked if she’d like a blanket. All she had to do was ask. Alyssa glared at him, miserable and non-threatening, but it was a glare nonetheless. He found it amusing.

He told her if she wanted to eat she could. He would hand feed her, and she didn’t even have to ask. She wanted to throw up at the thought, retching when she thought about it for more than a fleeting moment, but nothing came out, other than some faint bitterness of her stomach acid.

There was no way in hell she would ever demean herself like that, Alyssa would rather starve. But she needed to consider it, especially when she slumped from her sitting on the floor unable to keep herself upright for a second longer.

“Would you look at that!” She couldn’t lift her head to look up at him. She didn’t have to see his face to know he was gloating over her misery. “I don’t want to starve you to death, you know…” He nudged her ribs with the tip of his shoe, when she didn’t respond. It wasn’t meant to hurt, still she whined, wrecked by the constant ache that radiated through every cell of her body.

“I brought you this” he placed a box next to her head on the floor. She couldn’t help but lock her eyes on it. It smelled heavenly and familiar. He took off the lid and the scent got stronger. “I stopped by that one Chinese place next to your house” 

“...you-” Tears collected quickly in her eyes, she gave up. Her throat hurt. “You s-said we- we’re in a different city” The last part of the sentence was only a whisper.

“We are” he pushed the box closer to her. She still couldn’t move, and even if she could, the chain on her hand would not let her reach it. “You’re worth those extra few miles”

“Fuck you” she whispered. There was a steady stream of tears running across the bridge of her nose and down on the floor. She pulled weakly at the chains.

“This stubbornness gets you nowhere” he sighed and actually sat down next to her. He lifted her upper body in his lap, so she was at least halfway sitting up. It hurt so bad where he grabbed her arms, she was convinced it would bruise.

He took a piece of meat and pressed in against her lips. It was sticky, covered in a honey flavoured, slightly spicy sauce, and it hurt so bad. 

“Come on. Eat” She took a bite. And then another one. She didn’t care anymore that his fingers brushed over her lips, or that his other hand snaked across her torso pulling her up even closer flush against him. His body was warm and soft, and the food was delicious. He grabbed a spoon for the rice and fed her. 

“Say thank you” The words got to her slower than usual. His voice was faint, barely audible. 

Alyssa weighed her options. She could resort to silence again, to become boring, now that she had the energy to do so. His proximity and her body against his only started to register. His warmth was like knives stabbing her skin.

“Thank me, I don’t like to repeat myself” His hold got tighter around her abdomen. Her stomach was uncomfortably full, if he pressed his hand down even just a little more…

“It would be a shame if that meal went to waste” Luke knew it too. His free hand wrapped around her throat.

“Thank you” barely louder than a whisper. 

“You’re so welcome” He let go of her and lowered her back on the floor. She was cold again. 

Luke wiped the tears away from her face, smudging some dirt around, it rubbed at her face painfully. 

“I’ll get you a blanket, if you want one” he taunted with a smile that didn’t fade even when Alyssa steeled herself once again and shook her head. 

[tarnishedspark]

Modelling is done probably. I kinda gave up on the toy-styled underside because I couldn't get the knees, hips and thrusters lined up in a way that made sense and just stylised it out

And now I'm playing with textures.

blender default brick and sky textures

acid storm "magic" texture and lol corrugated the seeker

drawing on the plane and slapped a picture of Starscream on as the texture

gonna work on gettin it properly unwrapped and textured next

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

It Will Come Back Chapter One: The First

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Wordcount: 1.4k Warnings: None

What's an alliance between the Dead Three without an alliance between their Chosen? Gortash has a safehouse in the Outer City where he conducted most of his business before he began to slide up the scale of Baldurian aristocracy. A window on the second floor can no longer be locked because acid had melted the latch away to nothing years ago. He refuses to fix it. It's how Dana likes to let herself in. Detailing five important meetings at key points of Gortash and Dana's...alliance

Read on AO3 Next Chapter Writing Masterpost

**********************************

It’s not difficult to track her way to the address given to her, even though she’d gotten unpleasant bodily fluids on the paper. She knows the Lower City like she knows her own ribcage, and though she has less cause to visit the Outer City she’s familiar enough with its dirt roads and stables to complete this trip alone. It’s not an impressive address that she’s been given. Just a house on the other side of Basilisk’s Gate. Not in a poor neighbourhood soaked in the mince-meat air of the slaughterhouse complex, but just outside the walled community of Little Calimsham in Norchapel. She can’t be sure if he’s playing pretend-peasantry or if he’s following instructions from his god. The best way to infiltrate the masses is to be one of them, after all, it’s a technique she uses often enough. You can worm your way into their confidence or tiptoe your way through locked cellar doors. Access to and knowledge of the labyrinthine Undercity is a bonus in achieving the latter, but tonight she’s chosen to travel above land. She can’t see the sky from the sewers, and there’s a nice view from the top of Basilisk’s Gate. The last vestiges of the sun are bleeding out across the horizon as fog draws in from the sea, tinted orange by the dying light. The Flaming Fist barracks built into the wall of the gate should be more off-putting than it is, especially now the passage is closed. Curfew isn’t exactly law-enforced, but very few people need entry to or exit from the city at this time of night and those who do are cast under heavy suspicion. Not her. A novice from her own church is on duty and, eager to gain her favour, is more than happy to distract the others from his cohort to allow her to clamber up and over the gate. 

The split between the sectors of the city are immediate. In the Upper City the streets are well-maintained, there’s a constant watch funded by the patriars, and magical orbs of light not unlike those floating around the cobblestones of Waterdeep keep the nice clean streets bright. In the Lower City there are lamplighters, the occasional Fist patrol and countless crimes committed in each alley on the hour every hour. The Outer City is quieter and darker, and there are more horses snickering in their sleep than people offering a full night’s entertainment for even less than the rent of a stable. The path is simpler: one main road with turn-offs to the different villages instead of the indecipherable pattern of alleys and stairways and closes. She winds her way through the shadows until she reaches her destination and then considers her options for entry. Something metallic shines at the door, undoubtedly a trap, and going through the front door is boring anyway. The windows on the ground floor are likely trapped as well, if he knows anything about his own reputation. Upstairs might be her best chance but there’s nothing easily climbable on the walls, no trellis or conveniently out-of-line bricks to use as footholds. His next-door neighbour has an apple tree in their goat yard. From the bough that reaches out the closest to the window she wants, it only takes a whisper of a cantrip to drop a fingerful of acid onto the lock. The acid makes short work of the little latch, the window swinging slowly open to allow her to slip through. 

Her feet find a runner rug, limiting the sound of her landing. Not that she doesn’t want to get caught. She was invited, after all. She’s just treating herself to a little tour first. There are no personal touches. None that can possibly belong to him, anyway. A small painting on the wall depicts three girls, sisters with the same eyes. She pockets the silver snuff box that sits on a long, thin table pressed against the opposite wall, but the clay pot beside it doesn’t hold anything more interesting than dried orange rinds whose scent faded a long time ago. This isn’t a place where he lives. It’s just where he happens to be. There are three bedrooms up here. One for the parents, one for the two older girls, and the third for the youngest girl and a baby. A baby boy, judging by the image painted into a locket found in the parent’s room. If there had been anything particularly valuable or specifically interesting he’s either hidden it or used it. She’s left with little else but to trot down the stairs to find him. He’s converted the sitting room that the stairs lead her to into a kind of study: a desk where the chaise must have been, the chaise shoved against a wall under a window. He’s neither sitting at the desk nor waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He’s attending to a wheeled drinks cabinet beside the chaise, deliberately distanced from the fireplace.

“Bhaalist.”

“Banite.”

“You found the house.”

“It’s not yours.”

“Smythe, I believe they were.” He turns from the trolley and offers her a glass. Mermaid whiskey, common. He’s not sure if she’s worth the good stuff yet. Shrewd of him. She takes it anyway and drinks when he does. She has listened to whispers of Gortash’s name grow louder and louder over the last few years. An arms dealer much better than his lack of experience would suggest. The Guild has taken note of him, and he’s all but replaced the leader of the Baldurian branch of the Zhentarim. He doesn’t look like much. His hair is untidy, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and his clothes only a little fanciful. But it’s the ones that don’t look like much you should watch. He is Bane’s Chosen. She has been ordered to at least consider his allyship. That is what this mission is for, a test of his abilities and his faith. For him, it is a test of hers. Following his own god’s suggestions of allying with the Chosen of Bhaal, it had admittedly taken time to find Dana. She was quick, clean, and did not stick around long enough to leave tracks. Useful traits, to be sure, but frustrating. They’re similar enough in height that neither of them look up or down at the other. She’s pulled her hood back, freeing an abundance of thin braids that slide over her shoulders. A chain shirt glints through her cloak - battlemage armour for ease of casting. 

“Charming family.” Dana comments off-handedly as she drifts towards the desk. A map of sorts is laid out upon its surface. 

“Indeed,” Gortash agrees, following the path her eyes track, “These are blueprints of the Hall of Wonders. Not original, unfortunately, but from the last renovation. The Bhaalist artefacts are kept here in the northeast chamber as part of a larger exhibition regarding Tethyr.”

“Those torture racks were designed and crafted by Eler Had, a Bhaalspawn who allied with Gromnir Il-Khan and died nobly in efforts to protect his more powerful brother. It is not right that his legacy be exposed for all the Gate to see,” she taps her fingers over the marker that indicates where the racks are displayed before looking at Gortash. His eyes are as dark as her own, hiding the calculations he must be making, “This is not a stealth mission. They must be punished.”

“I have no reason to object,” he assures her, “I thought this might also be of interest,” Gortash’s own hand, contained in a glove, points out another marking, “There are bones here. A kobold’s skeleton. They call them the Bones of Bhaalspawn Toop.”

“Toop the Brave.” Dana tells him. After the meeting in which he had told her of the artefacts being held in the Hall of Wonders she had sent some of her own novices to ensure he was telling the truth. They too had seen the bones and felt their power, equal to the disgust of a Bhaalspawn being treated so horridly after death.

“A kobold, brave?” Gortash asks, and his scornful scoff is not well enough disguised. Dana’s head snaps back to him.

“A human, smart?” She counters. 

“You are human, are you not, Bhaalist?” A duel with an equal mind for a change. Enlightening.

“Not entirely, Banite.”

[ashenoaktradingcompany]

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