#acidulated

[ananya5400]

Feed Acidulants Market report categorizes the global market by Compound, Form, Type (Propionic Acid, Formic Acid, Citric Acid, Lactic Acid, Sorbic Acid, Malic Acid, and Acetic Acid), Animal Type (Poultry, Ruminants, Swine, Aquaculture, Pets, and Equine), and Region

[karanresearchlayer]

Feed Acidulants Market Size – Outlook 2023, Trends Analysis, Growth, Volume, Revenue Forecasts till 2030

The feed acidulants market refers to the global trade of food additives that are used to improve the nutritional value, safety, and shelf-life of animal feed. Feed acidulants are organic acids and their salts, which include citric acid, formic acid, propionic acid, lactic acid, and acetic acid. These additives are used in various animal feeds, such as poultry, swine, cattle, and aquaculture, to maintain optimal pH levels and to prevent the growth of harmful bacteria.

For Download Sample Report Click Here: https://www.marketinforeports.com/Market-Reports/Request-Sample/350000

The market for feed acidulants is driven by the increasing demand for animal protein, as well as the need to improve animal health and productivity. Feed acidulants are used to enhance the nutritional value of feed, increase the absorption of nutrients, and improve animal performance. Additionally, they can reduce the risk of bacterial contamination in animal feed, which can lead to foodborne illnesses.

The feed acidulants market is expected to grow in the coming years, as more farmers and animal producers adopt sustainable and efficient farming practices, and as the demand for high-quality animal protein continues to increase. The market is also influenced by factors such as regulations on animal feed additives, changing consumer preferences for meat and dairy products, and advancements in technology for feed production.

Major players in the feed acidulants market include BASF SE, Cargill, Inc., Evonik Industries AG, and Perstorp Holding AB, among others. The market is highly competitive, with companies competing on factors such as product quality, price, and distribution networks

[teeresearch]

Beverage Acidulants Market - Forecast 2022 - 2027

Beverage Acidulants Market Overview

Beverage Acidulants Market size is forecast to reach $2.6 billion by 2026, growing at a CAGR of 6.8% during the forecast period 2021-2026. Acidulants are used in beverages such as carbonated drinks that are formulated using fruit flavors. Beverage acidulants are used as a vital ingredient to impart acidic, sour, or tart flavor to the beverages. Most commonly used Acidulants are acetic acid and phosphoric acid among others. It protects the end products from generating any unwanted taste that can throw away the ideal mix of the beverages. It is used in the form of flavoring agents, additives, and preservatives in the beverage manufacturing industries. It provides an extremely cost-effective solution in the production of several alcoholic beverages. Increasing demand for beverages that have a long shelf life and increasing research & development by key payers for enhancing the quality of the products is the major factors driving the growth of the market. Increasing demand for beverage acidulants in energy drinks and changing preferences of food among consumers is set to further enhance the overall market developments of the Beverage Acidulants Market for the period 2021-2026.

Report Coverage

The report: “Beverage Acidulants Market Forecast (2021-2026)”, by Industry ARC, covers an in-depth analysis of the following segments of the Beverage Acidulants Market. 

By Product Type: Acetic Acid, Citric Acid, Lactic Acid, Malic Acid, Phosphoric Acid, Fumaric Acid, Tartaric Acid and Others

By Nature: Synthetic, and Organic

By Form: Liquid, Powder, and Granules

By Applications: Soft Drinks, Dairy Based Beverages, Fruit Juices & Concentrates, Energy Drinks, and Alcoholic Beverages

By Geography: North America (U.S., Canada, Mexico), Europe (Germany, United Kingdom (U.K.), France, Italy, Spain, Russia, and Rest of Europe), Asia Pacific (China, Japan, India, South Korea, Australia, and New Zealand, and Rest of Asia Pacific), South America (Brazil, Argentina, and Rest of South America), and Rest of the World (Middle East, and Africa).

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Key Takeaways

North America dominated the Beverage Acidulants Market in 2020 owing to the increasing technological advancements and increasing demands for natural additives in the food. The Beverage Acidulants Market scope for different regions will be provided in the final report.

Increasing consumption of processed beverages and increasing investments by the key players are likely to aid the market growth of the Beverage Acidulants Market report.

Detailed analysis of the Strength, Weakness, and Opportunities of the prominent players operating in the market will be provided in Beverage Acidulants Market final report.

Stringent government regulations regarding products label and inclusion of additives is poised to create the hurdles for the Beverage Acidulants Market.

Beverage Acidulants Market Analysis – By Product Type

Acetic Acid held the largest share in the Beverage Acidulants Market in 2020 and is estimated to grow at a CAGR 7.2% during the forecast period 2021-2026. Acetic acid has pungent smell and is found in vinegar.  It is then fermented naturally having natural pH. For specified acidity, food grade acetic acid is used for creating pickling liquor and it is also used in confectionary items as well as in flavorings. Citric acid is extracted from the lemons and limes that are produced commercially with the fermentation process. It adds sharp taste to cold drinks and sweets, generating an optimum condition for forming jellies, and jams among others. Acetic Acid is estimated to register the higher CAGR over the period 2021-2026.

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Beverage Acidulants Market Analysis – By Nature

Organic held the largest share in the Beverage Acidulants Market in 2020 and is estimated to grow at a CAGR 7.5 % during the forecast period 2021-2026. This is owing to the increasing awareness regarding the ill and harmful effects of the non-natural and synthetic acids. These effects tend the consumers to shift towards the beverages that contain naturally derived ingredients. Organic acid based beverage acidulants include citric acid that is widely used as additives in beverage manufacturing industries. Malic acid and tartaric acid based beverage acidulants generates fruity flavors. Organic is estimated to register the higher CAGR over the period 2021-2026.

Beverage Acidulants Market Analysis – By Geography

North America dominated the Beverage Acidulants Market with a major share of 34.8% in 2020. This is attributed to the increasing demand for several different types of beverages. The increasing presence of the processed food industry, increasing demand among consumers for food acids, and increasing production of the beverages along with the increasing awareness among consumers regarding the product is increasing the growth of the market during the forecast period 2021-2026.

However, Asia Pacific is estimated to grow at a higher CAGR during the forecast period 2021-2026 owing to the increasing demand for healthy and nutritional products. Increasing awareness regarding the product along with the increasing adoption and launch of innovative drinks is also increasing the growth of the market in this region.

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Beverage Acidulants Market Drivers

Increasing Emphasis on Achieving Longer Shelf Life of Beverage Products Through Optimum Acidification

Increasing emphasis on achieving longer shelf life of beverage products through optimum acidification is increasing the growth of the market. This is owing to the increasing demand for synthetic beverage acidulants across the beverage manufacturing industries. Through optimum acidification, the shelf life of drinks along with the taste of the drink increases. Optimum acidification controls the growth of undesirable microorganisms. Generally, for food preservation, fermentation is used which is the acidification by direct addition of organic and other forms of acids. Thus, increasing the growth of the market during the forecast period 2021-2026.

Increasing Awareness Regarding the Beverage Acidulants Among Consumers

Increasing awareness regarding the beverage acidulants among consumers is increasing the growth of the market.  This is owing to the increasing demand for processed food along with the development of the beverage industry. There is an increasing demand for citric acid & acetic acid as citric acid adds a sharp taste to sweets and cold drinks while acetic acid is used for generating pickling liquor. Thus, increasing the growth of the market during the forecast period 2021-2026.

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Beverage Acidulants Market Challenges

Stringent Government Regulations Regarding Products Label and Inclusion of Additives

Some of the factors that are set to impede the growth of the Beverage Acidulants Market are stringent government regulations regarding products label and inclusion of additives. Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations in cooperation with the WHO is responsible for assessing the risks to human health from food additives. In European Union, there is a legislation governing the labeling of food additives and according to it, people who have allergies to certain food additives should check the labels carefully. Thus, hindering the growth of the market during the forecast period 2021-2026.

Beverage Acidulants Market Landscape

Product launches, mergers and acquisitions, joint ventures, and R&D activities are key strategies adopted by players in the Beverage Acidulants Market. In 2020, the Beverage Acidulants Market share is consolidated by the top ten players present in the market. The Beverage Acidulants Market, top 10 companies are:

Cargill Inc.

Tate & Lyle

Northeast Pharmaceutical Group

Weifang Ensign Industry Co. Ltd.

The Sumo Food Ingredients

Archer Daniels Midland

Cobion N.V.

Hawkins Watts Limited

Parry Enterprises India Ltd.

FBC Industries Inc.

For more Food and Beverage Market related reports, please click here

[dulcerianoris]

Todo para tus fiestas lo encuentras aquí #gomital #acidul este y otro más productos los puedes encontrar en la Gran Tienda de Golosinas, variedad y precios. Dulcería Noris Nave 4 Bodega 4 Central de Abastos, Tultitlán Colonia ExHacienda Portales C.P 54900, Estado de Mexico …… …. . #Dulces #Tultitlan #CentraldeAbastos #Fiestas #Cumpleños #Coacalco #Ecatepec #piñatas #Dulceros #Todoparatufiesta #Ricolino #Chocolates (en Central de Abasto Tultitlán) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmCyXnFJ70T/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[mybuddyjimmy]

Acidulous

[freeobjectgentlemen]

https://webyourself.eu/blogs/129381/Feed-Acidulants-Market-Growing-Industry-Rapidly-with-Recent-Trends-Outlook

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [12]

pet!au | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list

gentle

cw: angst, non-con touching, dub-con sex, smut, hate fucking if you squint

Click. Click. Click. 

Johnny won’t stop messing with his pen. Repetitive clicks echo in the small space in his art room as he hunches over his journal, shading away at some image just beyond your view. It’s distracting. That slip of plastic against plastic. It’s not as acidulous as a firing pin striking metal — nor is it nearly as dangerous — but it’s enough to get the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Enough to make you remember the weight of an empty gun biting into the palm of your hand. It’s unforgiving, like a bad dog. 

Brain too perforated to properly concentrate, you tap the eraser of your pencil against the notebook in your lap. The scrawlings of a madwoman taint the paper between its faded blue lines. It’s a gift from Johnny. Shoved it into your hands the other day because he said you looked bored. Told you that you fidget too much without something to busy yourself with, and he needs you to sit still in order to draw you properly. It was unusually astute of him to notice something so small about you. You’ve descried something more than just a lowering haze over the sapphire of his eyes, but you’re unable to put it into words. 

He’s different these days. You don’t know why.

Either way, you are grateful for the escape. You’ve repurposed this old, fading notebook into a diary of sorts. Some place to pour your thoughts out to something that has no other choice than to listen — something that cannot bite you. For so long you have carried so much inside of you; not just the pain and fear, but the little things, too. You nearly cried when you realized you finally had a place to put it — that weight — down. 

It wasn’t until you flipped to the first page that you realized you don’t know what the date is. Your passage of time has been warped again and again. A tablet dissolving in your drink made you lose days. Johnny taking you on the floor while a football game droned in the background made you lose years. You try to count the time in other ways. The length adding to your hair. Golden leaves catching fire on the fringes of the forest. An algid whisper on the wind dancing through the open window. The way summer dies with a sputtering pule. 

These days, you measure the turn of the earth by feel. Months. Hours. It doesn’t matter to you how long you have been trapped here; you only care about how much life you have left to live when you escape. 

Johnny. John? Soap. Like the bar. Never feels clean. Never makes me feel clean. Scottish. Tattoo on forearm. Coat of arms? Military? Wannabe? Scar on head. Shot? Simon said so. When? Who? Matching scar. No. Never. 

Simon. Simon. Just Simon. English. Manchester? Guns. Hunter. Big guns. Fucked up nose. Fucked up everything. Scars. One on ribs. Butcher? Smells like blood. Hate him. Animal. Lots of tattoos. Took me as a pet for Johnny. Mad man. Bad man. 

Me. Not Bonnie. Something else. Someone else. Bartender. How old am I? Need haircut. 

Miss my jumper. 

Miss my mum. 

Miss ice cream. 

Had an interview before I was taken. What day? Missing since… June. June. Summer. Hot. Did they ever call back? Needed better job. Wonder if they’re looking for me. Is anyone looking for me? Always called mum on Sundays. 

Does her phone ring now that I’m gone?

No. Not gone. Not yet. Not ever. 

I hope her phone rings.

Scribbles muddle the margins between fractured words and thoughts. You can conjure nothing more than empty, uneven eyes and dried flies lining burnt window sills. What creativity lingers in the fringes of your mind stays in the mess of grey matter; never something to brand the off white paper in your hands. Masterpieces cannot be created in a cage. You save what little energy you have for dreaming. You dream of a day when your teeth grow long enough they don’t whittle down to sand when you try to sharpen them. 

“Bonnie?” 

Johnny moves quietly. Or, your ears are growing old. Too busy trying to recall sounds you used to love; unable to make sense of the cacophony that constantly surrounds you in this tomb. He’s already eye level with you by the time you look up. Crouched next to your plushy chair, a wide hand sits on the armrest that props your elbow. He’s got his journal in hand, and you are very aware of the way he curiously eyes your own. You slam it shut with the pencil between the pages before setting it aside. 

His eyes follow your hands with question, but he says nothing as he turns his journal for you to see. Truly, Johnny has a talent you’ve rarely seen others show off. Meticulously crafted sketches brand the paper, etching your likeness in grey graphite. He captures every curve of your body as you lean in the recliner, eyes narrow with concentration. You’re drawn with a smile on your face, but those muscles in your cheeks have been dormant for so long you’re not sure you could conjure the expression if you tried. 

“That looks lovely,” you compliment. It’s not a lie, but it rolls off of your tongue like it is. 

“You’re lovely,” he fires back. Playful. Light. 

There it is again. That look. Heavy lids threaten to smother the blue hue of his eyes — heavy with a concupiscence so thick it’s palpable in the air that separates you from him. You hope one day it solidifies — turns into some protective barrier — but it never will. 

It starts like it always does. The slicing of the threshold, brittle like eggshells and bones. You don’t think about it as he presses his lips to yours. You keep your mind full of other thoughts because if it’s empty, there’s more room for worse things. Bitter things. A man can only stare at a meal for so long before his hunger consumes him. You are liquid. A flowing being molding into the shape of his body as his torso pinches your legs against the recliner. It’s easier to give in. Hurts less. Angers Simon less. Even with that monster gone you behave because the walls have eyes. Dark brown irises that do nothing but stare and smirk. 

“Ow!”

But you still have your limits, and your body aches more often than it is numb these days, and Johnny’s hands haven’t grown any softer. He paws at you with claws that can’t retract and you wince. Your breasts are sore from weeks — no, months — of abuse. They’re silent wounds that will not heal and always, always scream. 

Then, it stops. 

Johnny’s hands retract from your body at the same time as his lips do, leaving you breathlessly dumbfounded. Blinking away the confusion, your eyes settle on Johnny who retreats back to sitting on his haunches. Blue eyes shimmer in the late summer sun as he shifts. For once, you are the one above him instead of the other way around. He looks up at you as if you’re an angel—

—as if he’s begging for forgiveness. 

“Did Ah hurt you?” he asks. 

“Uh… a-a little bit,” you admit stiffly. 

“A’m sorry.” 

There’s something in his eyes that unsettle you. You think back to that night when his body thrashed and squirmed next to you on the bed, fear reverberating through the mattress. Panicked and screaming; unable to rip himself from some nightmare. How he screamed about wanting to go home. Your stomach twists at the very thought, and it only gets worse when you realize that — for once — he looks more human than mutt. 

“It’s okay. I… I know you didn’t mean it,” you whisper. 

“Never. Ah would never hurt you,” he concurs. A breadth of stillness freezes the room and for the longest time you hear nothing but the chatter of birds. Johnny reaches for you with a singular hand, and rests it on top of your leg, heavy and warm. “Bonnie, are ye afraid of me?” 

Vocal chords turning to stone, your throat seizes as you attempt to answer. “No,” you lie. Cautious eyes flicker to the walls around you like they’ll crumble at any moment. Something slices through the prostration in your chest, and a strange cogitation flickers in the back of your mind. It’s as strong as it is terrifying, but you find your body executing it before you’re able to stop it. “But… Simon does. He terrifies me.” 

Johnny’s mouth fills with well meaning mirth. “He’s scary alright, but he won’t hurt ye. Simon’s not like that.” 

“I’m still worried he might,” you admit. A hesitant hand reaches out and rests over Johnny’s. The smile on his face quickly melts away into surprise as he stares up at you with parted lips. “But you wouldn’t let that happen. Right?” 

“Never.” His response is quick. Sharp and eager as he leans closer. His other hand comes up to rest upon yours, sandwiching you into a small embrace. “Cannae ever let anythin’ bad happen to ye.” 

Something shudders in your chest. Your diaphragm, maybe. It quivers and quakes as if you hold a bird’s nest within yourself. Foreign words begin to scratch at the back of your tongue, tickling your throat. You know well enough to bite them back, but as you stare at Johnny’s smile — lips pulled wide — someone stronger chokes the words out for you. 

“You’re so good to me, Johnny,” you whisper, voice whiny as you scoot forward in the recliner. Slipping your hand out of his grasp, your palms instead reach up to cup his face. His smile fades into parted lips and bated breath as your thumbs rub against abrasive stubble. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his eyes dilate so wide before. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?” 

“Ah try tae be,” he swallows. 

“I know you do.” 

It takes an eternity for your lips to meet his. Just when you think you’ve halved the distance, it only grows, and you’re unsure if it’s because of the scream of betrayal in your chest, or something worse. He groans when your bodies finally reunite, and you play into the fantasy his sick brain is infested with. Precious Bonnie. So supple and pliant in his hands. If only he knew you were this soft because muscles cannot properly tense around broken bones. 

You pull Johnny onto the recliner by his collar, but you ensure you’re the one to land on top. Legs spreading wide to accommodate his thighs, your knees squish into the sides of the arm rests, sending journals and pencils flying to the ground. When he paws at your chest again, you bite back the urge to push him away. To slice your nails through the back of his hand. Fingers pressing into tender flesh, he stares up at you like he’s finally able to feel the heart beating beneath his palms. 

“You wanna fuck me?” Those words sting on the way out, but you attempt to distract yourself from the pain as you grind down onto Johnny’s lap. He nods, hips pathetically bucking up. “Yeah? Ask me, then.” 

Thick brows pinch together as he parts his lips. It’s as if his request is on the tip of his tongue, but his hands have a mind of their own. Wandering. Grabbing. Pinching. 

“No,” you chastise. “Use your words, Johnny.” 

“Please. Please, Bonnie.” It’s pathetic. He says the words like he’s speaking to Simon. 

“Good boy,” you coo. “Gentle now. Gentle, Johnny.” 

He fumbles with the fly of his jeans, all too eager. His cock hardly has time to spring free before he’s already making a mess. Precum drips everywhere, staining the band of your shorts as his reddened tip slaps against you. Too worried about keeping your power, you don’t bother to properly remove your clothes. Instead, you move the gusset of your shorts and panties to the side before sinking down onto him. This has to be quick. You promise yourself it will be. 

All the while, you remind Johnny to be gentle, gentle, gentle.

Even when you’re in control, it still hurts. There’s that stretch and sting as you split yourself open, but you take it slow. Steady. Unlike Johnny, you allow yourself to adjust. He’s panting beneath you by the time you fully take him. You feel so full of rot it upsets your stomach, but you try to mask your trembling with a gentle rock of your hips. His moan is cacophonous, and your fingers itch to dig into his throat and render his vocal chords useless, but you relent. 

Always, always relenting. 

There is an intense appetency for blood that itches in the back of your mind. Even as you fake your moans and rock your hips, you want to take your hands and dig. Fingers piercing through flesh, cutting through bone; you wouldn’t stop until Johnny’s heart is in the palm of your hands. Still beating. Still fresh. You could squeeze it for an eternity and it still would only be a fraction of the pain you’ve been made to endure. 

You hate him. You hate him like a mother hates her daughter. Like how eyes hate mirrors. How the sun hates flesh. 

“Johnny?” you choke out. “Do you love me?” 

It takes him a moment to catch his breath, mouth stuck open as he stares up at you. “Aye. So much, Bonnie.” 

“Yeah? So you’d do anything for me?” you challenge. You try not to wince as he butts up against your cervix, but you know you can’t afford to stop. 

“Aye.”

“Anything I ask?”

“Anythin’ ye ask. Fuck, Bonnie A’m-” 

“I love you, Johnny.” It’s acid. Pure bile on your tongue. You nearly choke on the words, but you repeat them again. “I love you so much.”  

You hide your face in the crook of his neck when he comes. Thick fingers dig into your hips as you hold still, allowing him to spill his seed inside of you like he always does. His pulse throbs against your lips and you restrain the urge to take the artery into your maw and bite down. There’s nothing in your mouth but pathetic, brittle teeth. You don’t even think you could break through his skin. Still, you dream of it. Running the tips of your fingers along Johnny’s jaw, you yearn for a day when you have the weapons and tools to free yourself. It’s a long, agonizing process. One you’re not sure you have the patience for. 

And so, when you lean back to look at him, you stare at his lips. Soak up the way the delicate skin parts as he smiles up at you, allowing you to catch sight of his teeth. You might not have sharp canines, but he does. You know first hand the way they can dig into your lip and draw blood from skin. Fingers twitching, you yearn to pull the canines from his mouth, to wield them for yourself, but you know you’re not strong enough. 

But maybe, someday, you can be the guiding hand. Point a finger and say go fetch and have Simon’s head delivered to you. That day is too far over the horizon for you to view, but the vision of it is so clear in your mind that it’s enough for now. Right now, you’ve taken the first step.

“Good boy,” you croon as you thumb over his bottom lip. “Good boy, Johnny.” 

You’ll just have to keep walking.

[lindagoesmushrooming]

Tylopilus felleus aka Bitter Bolete.

The diameter of its cap usually does not exceed 12 cm. Spore powder is pink. It grows abundantly under pines on acidulous soil or rotting pine stumps from July to October. It looks quite similar to Cep. The main differences are that Bitter Bolete has distinct veins on its stalk, more or less pink pores, and the entire fruiting body is very bitter, causing it to be inedible. (To be sure, one can slightly touch it with the tip of the tongue.) A single specimen can mar the whole meal!

[eiraeths]

Gimme gimme gimme

Solvent for caustic scars

And pithy observations of canine incisors

Prebby prease

elllll my love hi

i’m pretty sure you’ve beta’d both of these at some point

snippet from solvent for caustic scars chapter two:

“God fuckin’ dammit,” Soap seethes, pressing his back against their steadily chipping cover as he checks his remaining ammo.

Empty as his current ideas.

Gaz abandons his Sisyphean task and scrambles for his radio. “Does anyone read me?”

Even the hail of bullets couldn’t mask the answering silence.

“We��re so fucked,” Gaz whispers, slumping down.

Soap peaks over the crate, attempting to get a hostile count. He needs something. Anything. Just one confirmation so he can pull himself together and come up with a semblance of a plan.

It takes a single sharp-pitched whistle blazing past his ear for him to drop back down without thought.

“Anything?” Gaz asks, scanning the room over his shoulder.

They’re running out of time. Waiting is a certain death sentence. No one is coming to save them.

“Stay here.”

“What?”

—

get cliffhangered >:]

snippet from pithy observations of canine incisors:

Soap stopped going to church long before he signed his name on the dotted line, signing his life away right along with it. Years have passed since he last stepped foot on those crumbling steps. It’s been longer since he made it through the threshold.

He wonders if someone’s repainted the guardrail yet. Years of sea salt lingering after heavy storms chipped away at that white paint. The salt filled the air—so heavy the taste would linger in the back of his throat for hours—and over the years he’d watch the paint chips crumble.

Back in the day, before the violence and bloodshed, when he was still a stupid kid, he’d go to church. Not a single Sunday passed where the entire MacTavish family wouldn’t stuff themselves into those rows of stiff wooden pews. They looked the part, too, all dressed up in their finest clothes. All dolled up with ironed shirts, shined shoes, and a tie he fucked up so many times.

His older sister, Elspeth, would take it from his clumsy hands and show him how to do it properly. Time and time again, she’d take it without a skip in the beat, and tie the damn thing like hadn’t done it the week before. She’d admonish him every time, telling him they had to look their best when in front of God.

Little John MacTavish—so stupid and so goddamn naïve—would grin up at her with a gapped grin and tell her, “But God’s always watchin’. That’s what you said. He knows every part of you inside and out.”

He would be so fucking proud of saying it. So pleased, like he personally made God proud. Like God would approve of his entire being. At the time, he thinks God might’ve done so. Back when he still had faith in a higher power above. When the MacTavish’s still got together and played the part of picture-perfect family in front of the town.

Sometimes, he still wonders if the townspeople ever found out his old man could drink all of them under the table with ease. Did they ever think about how he would drink and drink until he bristled about, red in the face? How with every bottle downed, he’d get real damn mean.

His old man wasn’t always like that, and Soap doesn’t remember when the bastard crossed the line and never looked back. Couldn’t be sure if he ever knew the line existed in the first place.

Soap’s not an expert on God anymore—doesn’t know if he ever perceived himself as such—and he’s never been good at figuring out why he wasn’t good enough to love. But he’s sure as hell God doesn’t like men that beat on their kids and wife.

His faith crumbled over the years right alongside the white paint. Chipped away with every purple bruise stretched across his skin and the tight funds spent on makeup. Covered those dark bruises right up, every swipe of the brush accompanied by acidulous accomplishment.

What a waste of money. What a waste of time believing in a God who did fuck all for him.

[whitefangz]

artfight attack for @acidulate !

[goreprofonde]

personally, I’m not so thrilled with yorgos lanthimos new corpus of movies. I miss the tragic absurdism of his previous movies, the brownish tone and blue atmosphere. His new body of work seems too acidulous, I’m not even excited for the next one bcs it already looks like a pop version of ruben ostlund’s filmography