#chainsaw man you poor middle child

[meownotgood]

THE REZE MOVIE NEWS WILL BE ANNOUNCED IN DECEMBER SOON!!!! WE MAY SEE AKI AGAIN 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

if I see aki (sighs like one would murmur the name of their late husband) I will do several back flips. and then die

[ofthehands]

Been thinking about the childhoods of the Sawyers again, this time in particular Drayton, and wondering about how the time period he grew up in might have shaped who he became. Generally I base his age on his actor, Jim Siedow, which just makes sense, we’ve never been given any reason to doubt he’s the same age as his actor. Which would mean Drayton was born in 1920 sometime, and would’ve grown up in part during the Great Depression and Dust Bowl. 

Now, of course the Sawyers would’ve been too poor to have a stake in the stock market, and whether or not the Dust Bowl would’ve hit them exactly depends on where Newt, Texas actually is, but for this little piece of analysis I’m going to make the leap and assume Newt would’ve been impacted by the Dust Bowl, and that the Sawyers were impacted by the job loss and industry cutbacks (via the slaughterhouse, most likely) of  the Great Depression, both because it’s interesting and because I think it makes sense. 

We know Drayton was born in 1920, and the twins were likely next, or at least the next surviving Sawyer children, born in 1945 (if you base their age on Edwin Neal’s age). Which is a big age gap, and we’ve discussed lots of reasons for this age gap, but one that isn’t talked about much that I think makes sense is the economic impacts of the times leading the Sawyers to be too afraid to have more children. They had Drayton when things were looking up- the Great War just ended and while many farmers were burdened with debt, the roaring twenties were beginning, and along with that came a boom in industrial production- it could be possible this is when the slaughterhouse came to Newt.  Only for all that to be yanked away when their son is about nine years old. The Great Depression comes first- wages are cut, many people lose their jobs, folks are going hungry. But the Sawyers seem to have at some point lived off the land somewhat, maybe they could raise livestock or grow food. For about a year, until the Dust Bowl starts, nearly a full decade of dust storms so intense they choked the life out of the land and left the Sawyers and many people like them not only in abject poverty, but absolutely starving. Of course they wouldn’t want another child- they probably only barely managed to clothe and feed Drayton. But, eventually the Dust Bowl does end, and the economy of the United States is boosted by the second World War, leading many Americans to feel secure enough to start having lots of kids, causing the Baby Boom. Which started around 1945, birth year of the twins. The birth order and timeline of the Sawyer family makes a lot of sense with these historical events taken into account, and the Texas Chainsaw universe is never shown to be different to ours historically beyond the existence of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, so I believe it’s entirely reasonable to assume these events did happen and did impact the Sawyer family in this way. 

So, with that out of the way, how did these events impact Drayton? As an adult Drayton seems to be a very anxious and money-conscious man. Which in the first film makes a lot of sense- he and his family are very poor, and he’s their only source of real income that we see. However, at the same time, the family is shown to have a collection of victims’ previous cars. Which is a bit odd. There could be a good bit of money there, which you would think would cross Drayton’s mind.  Of course, it would be important to make sure these cars aren’t traced back to them, so selling them outright would be risky, but selling parts of them as scrap or the whole cars to be scrapped could be a fairly easy way to make some more money. It would’ve been easier to get away with then, without cameras everywhere especially in the middle of nowhere Texas, and with the law caring/ believing as little about the Sawyers as TCM2 showed us they did.  But, the cars are collected anyway. Since Drayton is the head of the household and these cars wouldn’t be easy to hide, it’s reasonable to assume that Drayton allowed these cars to be kept. It could be argued that the Sawyers just aren’t smart enough to figure out how to safely dispose of their victim’s cars, and so they keep them in order to avoid suspicion. However, I would like to posit that these cars are an early sign of Drayton’s tendency to hoard. 

Hoarding is a fairly common behavior in people who lived through the Great Depression, and it can be handed down generationally as well- the children of (or in our case, children raised by) those who lived through the Great Depression often struggle with hoarding too. Hoarding behaviors are commonly associated with anxiety- the fear of not having enough, the fear of needing something and not having it- there is an anxiety around need. Which, of course, is an anxiety that was greatly exacerbated by the Great Depression and Dust Bowl- people in mass didn’t have what they needed, and like many traumas, these events left people with the unending fear of it happening again. Additionally, and notably,  hoarding can also be related to a number of mental health conditions, like severe depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and psychotic disorders. So how exactly does this relate back to Drayton Sawyer? 

To assume Drayton is a hoarder, or takes part in hoarding behaviors, based only on the car graveyard would be quite the stretch. However, this is far from the only time we see hoarding-type behaviors  in the Sawyers that must either be done by him or allowed by him. In the first film the Sawyers don’t seem to have too much of a hoarding problem. They use absolutely everything they get their hands on, which could again be a Great Depression/Dust Bowl influence, but their home seems rather sparsely furnished, and while they have a lot of animal bones laying about, its still easy to move through their home- it’s not particularly cluttered, just filthy. In the second film, however, with greater access to money, the Sawyers have started to collect things. The massive cave system they live in is full of strange items, all throughout the walls, and bodies are kept throughout their ‘home’ even when they aren’t being used- the giblets being stuffed into the walls, where Lefty finds them. They could burn something like that, or find some use for it, or get rid of it in some other way, but Drayton, who is in charge of their cooking operations undoubtedly, does none of this- he keeps all of it. He additionally is still very worried about money- he refuses to take a break or miss out on money for even one night, in spite of his advanced age, the fact that they have enough food to be selling food in mass, and that his business is stable enough for the woman at the chili contest to call him “Dallas’ favorite caterer”. Dallas is a big area- if he’s one of the most popular caterers in Dallas, his family isn’t going to go hungry. But Drayton expresses constant money anxiety anyways, and he keeps or allows the keeping of tons of strange and borderline useless items in their home- Christmas lights, skeletons, giblets, a stop light for some reason. If they lived still in the old farmhouse and not the cave system, their house likely would be full wall to wall. And, with the blood and guts in the very walls of their house, which is a cave and thus a fantastic place to grow all kinds of deadly molds, this behavior is definitely putting the Sawyers at a significant health risk. The Sawyer family, and Drayton specifically, show hoarding behaviors to the extent that it’s putting their health at risk. It may also seem like an odd thing, to keep mentioning the collection of bodies on the Sawyer property as a form of hoarding, but I think for Drayton it very much is. Meat is life for the Sawyers- they were raised in meat- and having it is all they have, often. So a massive collection of bodies and body parts, even when they’re not really being used and are likely rotting their home, soothes Drayton’s fear of needing and not having. If hard times come again, like they did during the Depression, or when the Sawyers could no longer work at the slaughterhouse, they’ve still got something, even if that something is nothing more than viscera in the walls. 

Now, of course, other mental health conditions could be impacting Drayton and causing his hoarding behavior. While Drayton doesn’t display a lot of obvious symptoms, we know psychotic disorders run in the family- Nubbins is heavily coded as schizophrenic, Edwin Neal based his performance off his schizophrenic nephew. Additionally, Drayton could have some type of severe depression. Throughout the end of the second film, Drayton talks about ‘quitting’, and how he’s been thinking about ‘quitting’ lately. Reasonably, it could be assumed he means retirement- he’s 66 after all. However, at the very end of the film, he refers to killing himself and his family in the same terms- “Maybe it’s time to just shut down. Time to shut down the show, yeah.” It’s possible that he did mean retirement originally. And it’s also possible he was always thinking of suicide. Drayton Sawyer may not seem like someone who is depressed, especially with business booming as it is, but depression doesn’t yield to success, and Drayton displays and follows through on suicidal intensions. It’s not a sure thing, but certainly not impossible. Additionally, Drayton could have OCD. Compulsive hoarding was considered a type of OCD, and 1/4th of people with OCD also display compulsive hoarding, and 1/5th of hoarders also display other traits of OCD. 

However, I still think one could argue these hoarding behaviors present in Drayton and his money anxiety are inextricably linked to trauma related to the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl. Especially since in disorders like depression and OCD, trauma- while not necessarily causative of the disorder- is a risk factor for the development of these disorders. So I do believe it could be said that Drayton is a hoarder, or at least shows signs of hoarding behaviors, and that this behavior stems from the impacts of the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl on him. 

I think, additionally, Drayton’s sadism and antisocial behaviors could stem partially from his experiences with the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl as well. I do believe there are other factors at play, ranging from potential generational abuse in the Sawyer family, to Drayton’s own desire for power and control leading him to exert that power as violence over anybody he can hurt and get away with hurting- namely his vulnerable and reliant younger brothers and the victims of his family. However, I think the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl could still have played a substantial part in shaping the way he’s sadistic, and forming within him a need for power and control. 

One of the more prominent ways I think that the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl shaped Drayton’s antisocial behaviors, is the way that it altered his view of people outside his family and the nature of human interaction. One of his snappier lines in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 was “It’s a dog eat dog world and from where I sit there just ain’t enough damn dogs!” which gives a pretty solid view into Drayton’s mindset. People can and will tear each other apart, and it’s important to him to be the one doing the hurting instead of being the one getting hurt. Of course, ignoring the cannibalistic implications of this sentence from the mouth of a cannibal would be silly, but taken literally the meaning is much the same. Drayton believes that the people he and his family kills and eats would at least harm and take advantage of him and his family if the shoe were on the other foot- maybe he even thinks its a matter of cannibalize or be cannibalized. And, of course, now that Drayton is on top- now that he’s scrapped out some deal of security by slaughtering others, he only wants more. Which makes sense if he grew up with barely any food on his plate, in a time period where others could pose a real danger, as they’re hungry too. Their neighbors realistically weren’t going to cannibalize the Sawyers in turn, but it was possible they might try to steal from them, or that desperate people might try to hurt them in order to take resources from them. It’s possible this could’ve happened to the Sawyers in Drayton’s lifetime, and it’s possible it never did but Drayton was raised with the idea in his head that it could happen- that the anxieties of older Sawyers before him imparted on him that he couldn’t trust people other than his family and that he should take what he can from other people before they take from him, regardless of whether the Sawyers were even cannibalistic during this time or not. I think that this anxiety around being hurt, baked into Drayton from a young age, manifested in his adulthood as an inward justification for his extreme and violent behavior, and in the way that he raised his younger brothers to continue this cycle- Drayton never breaks the cycle and imposes his beliefs and traumas onto his younger brothers, causing them to become even more isolationist and antisocial than him. 

Another way I think the Great Depression/ Dust Bowl would’ve impacted Drayton as an adult is by impacting how and why he expresses sadism. I believe that Drayton likely expresses sadism the way he does due to feeling helpless or out of control. This is an odd sentiment to apply to Drayton- he’s a very cruel and controlling man when he’s present in the films, and helplessness isn’t particularly befitting of him from the outside. However, despite what Drayton might admit or be willing to believe, he has control over almost nothing. He’s dirt poor, and likely disabled, trying to keep a gas station running in a tiny town when he can’t even always count on having gas. According to signs on the station, he sells barbeque and fishing worms as well, the barbeque sourced from their victims, and the worms likely just dug up out of the ground. He’s doing all he can to make ends meet, but whether or not he makes it really isn’t in his control. Additionally, he can’t keep his brothers under control. It’s not a particularly reasonable thing for him to want- the level of control he wants over his brothers, who are grown men, could certainly be argued to be unhealthy, he treats them quite like children. But it is still something Drayton clearly wants- he punishes them severely for disobeying him, and “I told you and I told you” is a pretty common sentence out of his mouth- he’s always vying for control of his brothers, even to the extent to not teach them about sex and to try and sway them away from ever having connections to people outside of the family, especially of a romantic variety, going so far as to try to make Bubba kill a woman Drayton assumed he had some kind of connection with. But, for all he does, he can’t keep Nubbins in the house, or Chop Top from getting into trouble and messing with Nubbins’ body, or Bubba from developing an interest in women. He wants control of them, desperately, but he can’t have that either. The only time Drayton Sawyer has complete control is when he’s tormenting a victim. It could be argued he torments them for the sake of tormenting them, not to have control, but to hurt someone for the simple enjoyment of causing pain. However, I don’t think this lines up with much of what we know about Drayton. While he is very cruel, he also shies away from violence at odd times. He enjoys poking Sally with the stick when she’s in his truck, but he also doesn’t like hearing her cry. He enjoys watching Grandpa bash her head in with a hammer, but also scolds his brothers for “torturing the poor girl”. Drayton clearly does enjoy violence to some degree, but I don’t think he enjoys violence for the sake of it. I think Drayton enjoys violence as a means to feel in control, and desires that feeling both because of his lack of control in his everyday life, and because of the way his life was suddenly upended by forces beyond his control or his family’s control at a young age.  

Ultimately, I’m not entirely certain that the creators of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre would’ve put much thought into the ways that the politics and economics of the time period the characters were born in would affect how the old scary guy who takes a chainsaw up the ass in the second movie thinks and behaves, so take this analysis with a grain of salt, lol, but it was a lot of fun to write, and I think that these factors are certainly something fans could take into account when thinking about and creating content of these characters. I greatly enjoy trying to unravel some of the mystery around the Sawyers with what little information we have, especially since these questions will never be answered in canon. Feel free to add on anything you think I might have missed with this topic, or any other thoughts that come to your mind! I love hearing other people’s theories and thoughts and such.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

I'm sorry but funny ideas come to me late at night so I have to send this ask rn or I'll forget about it. so imagined what if the skeleton's adopted child is basically those terrifying children from horror movies

Undertale Sans - It's 3 am and he tries to pretend so hard he's not seeing his child staring at him and S/O sleeping on the doorsteps. That's two hours they're doing this now and Sans thinks he will never be able to sleep again. He is freaking out and desperately try to shake his S/O awake because he swears to Asgore he is terrified.

Undertale Papyrus - "OH, HELLO CHILD. EVEN IF I APPRECIATE YOU NOT WALKING ON THE WET FLOOR, COULD YOU PLEASE NOT WALK ON THE CEILING EITHER?" The child doesn't answer and pass next to him, growling like an animal. Papyrus sighs. Ah, children. Aren't they cute? Undyne and Alphys are frozen in shock in the couch. What the hell.

Underswap Sans - He breaks into the room, pissed of. "TIMMY! STOP MAKING YOUR UNCLE DOG SPIN ON THE CEILING THIS MOMENT!" The child pouts and lets the dog goes back on the floor. The dog runs away in terror to join Honey. Blue starts lecturing his child about doing horrible things in the middle of the day. Please wait the middle of the night when no one can see you!

Underswap Papyrus - He looks up from his book. "what are you holding?" "A chainsaw, I'm going to use it on the neighbour." "oh, ok, have fun." The child leaves the room. Honey freezes for a moment, then jumps out of the couch. "oh shit, no, wait!" He runs after the kid.

Underfell Sans - He was looking himself in a mirror when you jumpscared him out of nowhere by making his reflection attacks him. Red screams bloody murder and crawls out of the bathroom, soul beating so fast it mights explode. That freaking kid. What the hell were you thinking when S/O wanted to adopt them specifically?!

Underfell Papyrus - He's in the middle of the shop. The kid is doing a litteral banshee scream because he said no to buy the last toy he saw on TV. The humans around are all on the floor, ears bleeding while Edge is simply lecturing the child, unaffected. It's not because you scream loud that you will have what you want! He can scream loud as well!

Horrortale Sans - Poor Oak is on the couch, head fills with wiggling worms. Willow is lecturing the child to death. "I KNOW THIS IS TEMPTING BUT YOU CAN'T FILL YOUR DAD HEAD HOLE WITH WORMS BECAUSE YOU WANTED HIM TO STOP HUGGING YOU. LOOK AT THAT MESS! MAKE THEM DISAPPEAR WITH YOUR DEMONIC POWERS THIS MOMENT YOUNG MAN! AND APOLOGIZE!" The kid sighs and obeys.

Horrortale Papyrus - Things are flying everywhere in the house. Willow sighs loudly and turns towards his kid. "WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT INVITING EVIL SPIRITS TO PARTY IN THE HOUSE? YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO ASK ME FIRST. YOU WILL CLEAN THE MESS." The child makes Willow's mouth disappear because they're angry. Willow frowns and lectures the kid with sign language instead.

Swapfell Sans - This is the worst possible timeline. Nox is hiding in his bunker, trembling in terror after his kid found out that sneaking on him and breathing in his neck makes him jump in terror everytime. Nox is having a mental breakdown. He hates this kid. He keeps asking S/O when the orphanage is taking them back. As he's finally calming down, he feels a cold breath on his neck. He screams and turns away, finding his kid upper half has crossed the wall somehow. He bangs on the scelled door to beg S/O for help.

Swapfell Papyrus - You're having dinner, trying to ignore all the animals with redeyes staring at you from every windows of the house, waiting for one of them to get out of the house to kill them. This is fine. Rus doesn't even need to get out ever again anyway. It's no use to say anything to the child, he could just open a window as a revenge.

Fellswap Gold Sans - "WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?" "My friend." "...YOUR FRIEND? WHERE IS HE?" "Right next to you." "... SURE. WHAT DOES HE LOOK LIKE?" His kid gives him a drawing of a very scary clown holding a huge scythe. Oh nice. What the hell. Wine smiles, a bit tense, then says to his kid to not go to sleep to late. He is also locking the door of his room tonight.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He was going to the kitchen like every morning to make breakfast but can only find humans organs in the cupboard. Coffee tries to not panick, at least there is coffee. He high pitched screams when he serves himself a cup of coffee and finds a human eye floating in the drink. He begs his kid to stop doing this.

[selya711-twiste]

what pose refer- OH

#if you know the pose reference i'm so sorry

poor poor anon. aware of the horrors. although if fellow had this much power since the start he wouldn't be doing all this nonsense huh

bonus giddy:

other meta about Playful Land that I've decided to hide in this post (minor CSM spoilers discussed underneath):

I got into Chainsaw Man during the time this blog was in a coma! if that wasn't obvious already ^-^

Fellow and Guidel growing up in poverty reminded me a lot of Denji and Pochita, and I listen to CSM ost often these days I'm only drawing Fellow as Makima for funnies because they both manipulate others without them knowing, and absolutely nothing else. he's too boyfailure for that.

"The country mouse gets to to live in safety, but doesn't get to eat delicious food like they have in the city. The Town mouse gets to eat delicious food, but runs a higher risk of being killed by humans or cats."

I've also been thinking of this line with them lately, either they live honestly and barely make anything when society rejects them as it is, or work at Playful Land despite its horrid conditions if it means their survival

in which I also headcanon that Fellow's drive in doing this in the first place is his envy, and to fulfill a sense of revenge towards people who get to live normal lives but fell for a "free ticket" the same way Pleasure Island also existed as a metaphor to punish people for giving in to hedonistic desires. So that's why he put up with it for so long especially under his greedy bosses

Not a lot of people talk about how as much as Fellow cares about Guidel, he still roped in a child into this job alongside him and exposing him to this sort of stuff, so I was hoping it'd be discussed more when analyzing their bond together and not just fellow's backstory (or whatever crumbs canon gave us), and that's what I had in mind when writing this

theres nothing wrong with finding guidel cute and silly! hes a cute little guy who is very much loved by his older brother, his... very irresponsible brother. but I think that's why I can still come to love Fellow and how raising and protecting Guidel could've played a bigger part in his change at the ending when he stops everything to start a school instead

I was really hoping that Stage in Playful Land would also give us Ortho-Guidel parallels the same way with Idia-Rollo and how they dealt with their grief in Glorious Masquerade, but this time with "little brothers" and their attachment to their "older brothers" but their autonomy outside of them being brought into question

Anyway, I was wondering how the Playful Land operations would impact Guidel, so I was thinking Fellow probably bullshitted some reasons so it isn't merely just guidel following his brother but also being in on it (that, and middle schoolers are built different.)

This worked until the NRC students brought up something sensitive to them, which was school, and it takes the veil off Guidel's eyes and ears for a second about what they're doing and what sort of lives he and fellow could've had seeing the nrc students have so much fun

Sorry this was all over the place LOL. If you've read this far, the contents in my blog may begin to take a darker turn if I post more about them, so I'm really sorry if you followed me for Rollo fluff... but it's also almost my christmas break, so :DDD

i can still see everyones requests in my inbox, by the way. sorry again.

[aewinning]

A small little Q&A meme I was tagged in by @kae-karo! Your cat messing up your post gave me a good laugh, thank you so much for the bonus cat pic at the end <3

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currently reading?

Just a bunch of fic as I clear it out of my inbox, honestly! I do need to get back in the habit of reading regular books again as well but the brain doesn't focus like it used to and fanfic is a lower executive dysfunction barrier to jump over since I already know the characters and setting.

2. favorite color?

Purple, my beloved! Also a big fan of blues and greens and anime/JRPG-villain-hair platinum.

3. last song?

Klee's character demo song! I was talking to @bittermachine about marching band stuff and thought about how Klee's character demo song has a very big band feel to it, and would probably make a good song to march to, so I went and listened to it again. Extremely catchy, 10/10, will listen at sporadic intervals again.

4. last movie?

I don't do a lot of movies so it was probably the Way of the Househusband live action movie I watched with a friend a few weeks ago. Show-wise I'm working my way through Buddy Daddies and Chainsaw Man (mostly so I have context for all the AkiAngel on my dash/timeline) with the same friend, one of each per week.

5. sweet/spicy/savory?

sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet! I am a very picky eater in general but if it's sweet I am much more likely to enjoy it.

6. currently working on?

Foul Eggacy 3 but it's been rough going. I've written some of the middle scenes but the opening scene is fighting me hard. (Poor Childe has been ready to lay these eggs for weeks as I slowly open the document and add a few lines every few days.)

I'm still going to try to post it before Baizhu's release, but I can't promise it'll happen because I don't want to compromise on quality. The series is near and dear to my heart and I don't want to shrug and say 'good enough' just because canon Baizhu may contradict things! If he does, then I will at the very least deliver on 3, though I might not write some of the supplementary bonus scenes I'd considered depending on how far off the mark I was.

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I followed quite a few Genshin people on tumblr when they fled Twitter but I'm not sure who all is still active to tag, so - if you're interested in answering these questions, do so and then ping me so I can read your answers!

[insane4fandoms]

Sorry, it’s me again! But uh… headcanons? Could I see your headcanons about the Matt egos?

*plops down and leans forward like a child eagerly waiting for story time*

Gather around children, gather around. Time to tell you the list of my headcanons for these theatrical bitches

Madpat

- He’s like a dog, you scold him, he’ll look like you kicked him and will give you those 🥺 eyes. But don’t be fooled! Shield your eyes from the dangers of Madpat’s look of innocence!

- He also brings dead things to people he likes, like a cat bringing dead birds. He is proud at what he brought, and wants you to put it up like a trophy.

- He brandishes that flame throwing chainsaw like it’s his baby. Hold it in his sleep like a stuff toy.

- While he was in prison, he was going to kill everyone there, but met a special someone who loves theater as much as he does. But why the weird Jersey accent if he’s from Ohio?

- You know his teddy costume? That’s his sensory onesie, he likes the way it feels and feels happy when he wears it.

- After the fire, he got burn marks all over his body, but to him it’s a sign that he always comes back. Get it…? No…? Okay-

Detective

- After the hot dog eating contest, Detective would no longer look at a hotdog the same again. He feels very nauseous at the mere sight of them.

- He still have nightmares about the Strong Man, feeling the pressure around his neck from his grip.

- Hates the sounds of snake slithering, makes his skin crawl.

- He misses Ro, and he feels like wherever his badge is, it’s keeping her comfort. It’s a sign to tell Ro that he’ll always be with her.

- He sleeps with Blanche at night, cuddling up into the stuffed horse while remembering the good times at the carnival.

- Is an expert at creating antidotes for any occasion, always be prepared he would always say.

Hermit

- I already added that he shakes like a dog when he gets wet, but I would also like to say after the shower, he shakes like that one rat video.

- He used to carve things into his wall, and became a habit in carving into random things. Rocks, walls, clothes, mattresses, people.

- A master at baking. Doesn’t matter if it’s meat or pastries, he could make Gordon Ramsey eat his heart out. One thing he can’t make is anything vegetable related, he’s likes a Middle Earth dwarf; he can’t stand vegetables.

- He also has the habit of collecting shiny objects, paperclips, rings, coins, spoons, anything that catches his eye.

- When he gets bored, he likes to make his own stories, then puts in more details to cover plot holes, then it becomes world building, then… he makes theories… ah… I see what they have in common.

Mack

- Has a sweet tooth, but doesn’t like admitting it since he believes it’s embarrassing. He would sneak into the pantry and nibbles on the cookies until Hermit caught him one night, and was happy that Mack likes his pastries.

- Has plants because it’s something only he has control over in his life. But he cares for those plants too, one touch from others and you’ll have a broken femur.

- He likes the cold, goes to Cryo every so often to relax and enjoy the cool air. That’s how Celci and Mack became mutuals, they both always complain about Mark’s antics.

- He’s a germaphobe, and carries hand sanitizer everywhere. That’s why he also likes the cold, it kills bacteria and he’ll feel safe.

- Even though he’s hates germs, he’s also touch starved. He never dated anyone, but someone he had a crush on hurt him so. So he also got them trust issues too. Poor man.

Warfpat

- Unlike Wilford who brandished his iconic butterfly knife, Warfpat carries a pair of scissors, he likes the way it slices through things.

- He thinks himself as the dad, and sees Matpat the mom, even though Matt is annoyed by his labeling. The others make fun of Matt and call him mom ironically and calls Warf dad, which makes him happy.

- Doesn’t sleep much. It’s not like he is nocturnal or has sleep deprivation, he physically doesn’t sleep, the amount of energy he has is immaculate. He likes to copy the others and sleep so he would relate to the egos.

- Warf likes to make scripts for his next interview, whether it’s for games or movies, he likes to post the scripts on the wall to see how it would look. He has Detective, Matt, and Mack to have second opinions, which makes him happy.

- He also likes stray cats. He walks around the streets and feeds them and gives them water. He wants to take them home but his studio manager doesn’t allow it, so feeding them is the next best thing.

- And the one things every egos have in common… is that they all love theater. You can’t change my mind on this.

[halo-jpeg]

What would the slashers(bubba, thomas, michael, brahms and norman -you can add someone if you want-) react if 6 policeman came attack them and he fainted and when he woke up he saw his s/o in full of blood, standing in the middle of the policemans' brutally dismembered corpses with an axe in her hand and doesn't really seem to feel remorseful or scared, she seems angry.

Some Slashers with an S/O who Saves Them from the Police

Bubba Sawyer

Everything had been calm. The day had been normal- until the sirens began to blare faintly in the distance.

Sirens always put the Sawyer’s on edge, but this was different, they were growing steadily closer. Drayton was gone to the gas station, Nubbins and Chop were nowhere to be seen, and Bubba was panicking since there wasn’t a friendly, normal face to smooth talk the police into leaving.

You had gone to the door instead, but the police were quick to shove you- roughly- aside in search of the Sawyers. Bubba wouldn’t stand for that. He raced to help you to your feet, momentarily forgetting all about the police.

A gunshot to the shoulder was all it took for him to turn on the police instead. Two more bullet shots, to the leg and stomach, knocked him right unconscious.

He expected to wake in a police car, shackles rubbing his wrists raw, and he was... surprised, to say the least, when he was still on the floor of his home. Your heavy breathing caught his attention, and he turned to you.

You were standing, hunched over, with a look of pure annoyance on your face. You held Bubba’s chainsaw, the both of you coated in a thick layer of scarlet blood. Corpses lay all around you, dismembered and mutilated, more than dead.

Bubba would be so proud, yet scared at the same time. He’d leap to his feet, stumbling over to you and tsking the saw from your hands, pulling you close to his chest and sobbing into your hair.

He’d be so sorry that you had to do that to save him. He knows how little you like the killing that goes on in the house.

When you tell him you feel no guilt nor remorse, he’s relieved, even more so when you tell him you’re happy you did it to save him.

You’ll patch up his wounds, and he’ll never be scared of the police again. He’s got you in case he’s beaten, and you’re so strong.

Thomas Hewitt

You’d been in the basement together, watching Thomas butcher the latest victim with a sickening interest. A commotion upstairs caught Thomas’ attention- it felt different from the usual fights that went on.

Thomas told you to stay downstairs as he checked it out, bringing with him a mallet in the pocket of his butchers apron.

He was utterly shocked when he spotted his mother and Hoyt being cuffed by police. In a moment of panic, he took out his mallet and tried to attack- a taser on its highest setting put him out like a light.

The thump of his body on the ground is unmistakeable, so now you were panicking as well. With an axe that was previously leaning against the butchers table in hand, you set off to the rescue.

Thomas woke up with a start, but the beaming smile on his mother’s face made him more confused then scared. Hoyt’s ‘Get those bastards, Darlin’!’ Drew his attention to you, just as you pulled your ace back and buried it into the skull of the last officer despite their begs for mercy.

Before freeing his family, Thomas would race to your side, pulling the axe from your hands and cradling your face in his hands.

He’d be so scared. What has gotten into you? Are you hurt?

After hearing your explanation, saying you don’t feel any guilt because he and his family is safe and sound, he calms a little bit.

He now holds a rather deep admiration for your actions. You absolutely saved them. If it hadn’t been for you, their lives would have been over.

Hoyt and Luda Mae respect you much more, too. “That was quite the scene!” Hoyt would say, “All that just for your family!” Luda Mae would add.

Michael Myers

Michael always thought he was unkillable, immortal, so he often let that get to his head. When the police went sniffing around the Myers house, he attacked without caution.

He was quick to be overpowered, taking only a few officers down before they inflicted too much damage. A brutal baton to the skull sent him to the ground, and two more stole away his consciousness.

His strength kept him generally awake, his head swimming as he fought for control over his body once more.

A sudden commotion began, and through his battle for wakefulness he could hardly identify what was going on. All he knew- he could feel it- was that his knife was being used.

At last, things quieted, and just as they did he managed to stumble to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. Minutes passed as his senses returned.

When he finally got himself together, he looked over there total massacre that had passed through the room. It took him a good minute to digest what had happened.

Bodies lay everywhere, clean stan wounds to their necks, shoulders, chests or stomachs, quick and clean, with you at the center.

You were coated in blood. You’d never looked prettier. Michael, beaming with pride because of the crime his S/O just committed, would stalk towards you.

He’d take the knife from your hand, taking a moment to examine the way the lighting shine off the dripping blood, and then he’d pull his mask up and off, kissing you.

Later, he’ll blame the affection in the concussion he most likely had, but both you and him know that it was real.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms has a very bad memory connected to sirens- the fire from when he was a child. So when the police sirens grew in the distance, so did his unending terror.

Brahms panicked, pacing frantically through the house rather than doing the rational thing and hiding in the walls. The moment the police knocked on the door, reality settled in and he realized he was screwed.

He told you to hide, so that you didn’t get dragged down with him. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, shoving you into a closet and demanding you take to the walls as the door was kicked in.

You watched through the gaps in the walls as the police greeted Brahms with ferocity. With a low pain tolerance, Brahms was out with one quick taser to the side.

He hit his head against the floor, further heightening his unconsciousness, and everything he could vaguely hear was a total blur.

When he woke, he was slow to completely come to, his mind swimming and his vision blurry as his consciousness returned.

The blood before him was heart-stopping. The carpets would be ruined, the hardwood as well- but you were safe and sound, with a hammer in your hand. You had bludgeoned them all to death.

Brahms is stunned into silence for a moment, gazing at the bloodshed and chaos you had created for his sake.

He’ll smile, slipping off his mask. His eyes are warm with gratitude and affection. He can’t believe you’d done this for him.

He’ll ignore the bloodshed for now, going to sit down with you in the kitchen for a moment, holding your hand tightly. The mess can wait. He needs to thank you with hugs and kisses.

Norman Bates

The day at the Motel has been entirely normal. Change the bedding, clean the bathrooms, etc etc. The sirens, however, were new and alarming.

Norman races to the window, anxiety blooming in his chest. What was going on? The police cars in the Motel parking lot sent a spike of fear through Norman’s chest.

The police came to the door, and of course Norman opened it. Using his most innocent voice and expression he tried to convince them everything was okay.

He failed. The police rushed him, attempting to cuff him peacefully, but he snapped, pulling his arms away and reaching for a knife he’d set on the door side table.

The police were quick to lunge forwards with tasers, rendering poor Norman unconscious. That left you as the only option.

The officers didn’t know you were there, and they sure had a surprise coming as they cuffed the unconscious killer.

When Norman woke once more, it was to the sight of you plunging his knife into ad officers back without a trace of fear on your face. Over the dying mans shoulder, you caught Norman’s eye and smiled as if you hadn’t killed three people.

Norman leaps to his feet, horrified, but so, so grateful. You’d done this to save him, right?

He knows he’s killed people, but his mother takes the blame, so he feels rather innocent. To say the least, Norman is frightened.

After some reassuring and calming, Norman isn’t as afraid of you, and his gratitude is more overpowering.

[fluffybunnyartist]

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS 2

Thomas Hewitt x Reader

Gist: You're a traveling artist with nothing to lose and lots of love to give.

Over a period of time your whole head was fuzzy. You didn't remember too much and your head ached all the time. It was only a couple of days but it felt like weeks. The day you were finally awake you got a good look around the room. It was small and a bit dirty. It looked old and smelled musty and of blood. Panic sets in as you have no idea where you are. The door creaks open and you jump. The lady from the station comes in and sees you up.

"Oh! You're up. How are you feeling?" She asked walking over to you.

"Pretty good, thank you!" You said. "How long was I out?"

"About three days. You had me worried, your head was smashed pretty badly."

"Thank you for everything ma'am."

"I'm Luda Mae and what's your name?"

"I'm Y/N! Your house is lovely!" You smiled.

"Supper is almost done. I'll set another plate for you."

"Thank you again, how can I repay you and your son?"

"You helped me out pretty well that day. This is us repaying you." She said.

"Where is your son? I'd like to thank him." You said swinging your legs over the bed.

You look down and realize you're wearing an oversized button up flannel. Luda Mae smiled and patted your shoulder.

"You'll meet everyone at dinner. Come along now, you can wear that at the table. It looks more like a dress anyways." She said leading you out of the room.

The whole house smelled just as bad. You ignored it though. It's hot in Texas so its bound to smell in houses right? You carefully step down the stairs following the Luda Mae and enter the dining room. You see the table set up for five people. Two men on one side and her son on the other. They look up at you when the floor creaks underneath your feet. You smile shyly and shuffle a little bit closer to Luda Mae. She puts a hand on your lower back.

"This is Y/N! She was the young un who helped me at the station, so be nice."

"It's nice to meet you all!" You say happily.

"This is Hoyt," she points to a sheriff. "Monty my brother," a paraplegic with no legs next to him. "And this is Thomas, my son."

"Thank you for the other day Thomas! You really saved me back there!"

He nods slowly and carefully. Even while sitting down you notice he's almost taller than you. His face was mostly covered by a leather mask. His eyes never even glanced at you. Thinking hes just shy you sit down next to him and Luda Mae at the head of the table. Hoyt stands up and says grace. Theres a crockpot in the middle of the table and bowls set out for everyone. One by one the bowls are filled. You eyed the stew and admired at how good it smells and looks. You take a bite and your mouth waters. You swallow and turn to Luda Mae.

"This is really good Mrs. Luda Mae!" You praised her. "It reminds me of my moms cooking!"

"Thank you dear, dont your parents miss you?"

"My parents died awhile ago. I'm an only child so I dont really have a lot of family." You explained. "I've been traveling around for my art projects."

"Oh I'm sorry dear," she said, mouth twitching up at the corners. "You know we could use some more help around the house. Maybe you'd like to stay for awhile longer? Just a couple of days?"

"Oh, sure!" You nodded.

'What's the worst that can happen? They seem like nice people!' You think.

"What would you like me to help with?"

"Just cleaning and laundry. And helping me prepare dinner." She said.

"Sure! I'd love to help with dinner!" You chirped, taking another bite of the stew. "Id love to learn how to cook like this!"

Thomas side eyes you and you offer him a smile. He looks away and stands up abruptly and leaves the table. You hear a door slam when he slips out of sight. Luda Mae sighs then turns to you hopefully.

"Tommy helps with dinner sometimes, hes a little grouchy but I hope you two get along well! He's a bit lonely ya know." She said leaning towards you a bit. "Maybe you can help?"

"I wouldn't mind..." you say, starting to rethink your answer.

"Thank you." She smiled.

Screams echo from underside the house and you jump up. Luda Mae goes to grab your hand and you slip away from her.

"Hoyt get her!"

You turned and ran out the front door and into the cornfield. You hear someone scream for Thomas. You panicked as you slipped into the woods. You barely dodge a bear trap as the chainsaw revving starts to head towards you. You duck behind a tree and cover you mouth. Heart pounding in your chest. You whimper quietly as the chainsaw slows down and turns off. Sitting still your head starting to ache and body hurting from the fight with the man. Thomas steps right next to your tree as tears fall down you cheeks. You close your eyes and try to shuffle away. A large warm hand grabs your arm roughly and you scream loudly.

"Please! I didn't do anything wrong!" You cry out, struggling in his iron rod grip.

He slings you over his shoulder as you beg and plead him to not kill you.

He hears your cries and feels a twinge of guilt. You've been nothing but kind and even now as he carries you back to the house you're not full on attacking him or calling him names.

"Tommy please!" You cry and he hesitates to bring you back into the house.

People rarely used his name. At the door of the house he goes up the stairs instead of the basement. You can hardly move as you still weren't fully healed from the attack. Hoyt stops him.

"What're you doin with her?"

"She ain't gonna be dinner Hoyt!" Luda Mae scolded. "She gonna be Tommy's girl now. Ain't no one waitin for the poor thing or will report her missin'."

You let out one final weak sob as Thomas carries you upstairs.

[sloppy-butcher]

GhostFace’s Field-guide to the Entity #3

Day 146

I am in Hell. Complete and utter hell.

I have, regretfully and bitterly, come to terms with my lack of a private, personalized domain. I have accepted that killing must be done in a certain way, even if that goes against my better judgment. There are a lot of things, a lot of things, I have had to put up with, I’ve had to pull my pants down and let the Entity fuck me raw, but this, this, takes the fucking cake.

I'm not a babysitter, I hate kids and I would never sign up to be the poor sod who has to deal with them all day. So why the actual fuck does has this happened to me?

The first time I had the misfortune of encountering that fat buffoon was when he stumbled upon me. I was just relaxing, sitting against a tree in a clearing that I had claimed as my own, scribing my notes from the workday about survivors into my notebook when out of nowhere this sweaty, enormous goliath of, what a presume to be, a man tumbled out of the woods and disturbed my peace. I got up quickly, prepared because some killers are extremely hostile even to other killers. It took a moment for the thing to register his surroundings and when he spotted me he froze. I caught the look in his eye, one of fear, uncertainty, and hunger. I got my knife and purposely glinted it in the light out as a sort of warning. My movement seemed to startle the man as he looked me up and down, squealed then dashed back off into the night. To say I was confused would have been an extreme understatement.

I wish, how I wish that that was my first and only interaction with the big oaf but everyone knows that God has something out for me because the next off-time I had, I saw him again. He wasn’t stealthy, with that large belly of his and heavy breathing he had no chance of adequately hiding himself being a tree. I could practically smell him from his spot just beyond the clearing. He was watching me, observing and calculating me and everything I did. Wait, no. That’s giving him too much credit. The fucker was probably just waiting for a chance to attack me or something. Maybe he was bored and wanted a quick kill in order to get his blood flowing. Regardless of his motives, he annoyed me. In one swift motion, I jumped at him, putting my hands out and proclaiming “Boo!”. Again he squealed like a pig then retreated, like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Later he came back. I scared him off. Then he came back again. Then again. And again.

 Eventually, he no longer got spooked by my jumps and instead started chuckling at them. He is like a child. A toddler trapped in the body of a hefty giant adult man. He thinks I’m playing a game with him and is getting more and more confident when approaching me. He no longer hides at the edge of the clearing and now stands next to me, looking over my shoulder as I relax or read. Even now as I write this I can feel his breath of my shoulder and I can smell his unbrushed teeth and that rotting, flesh mask he wears. I have tried speaking to him as an adult, man to man, but like a child, he either doesn’t understand or care. 

And it is so fucking annoying.

Day 149

He follows me everywhere. My only alone time now is when I'm working. It’s gotten to the point where even if I runoff and manage to lose sight of him in the woods if I stop for a second he’s back next to me squealing and gurgling like a baby. It appears that even the Entity has something out for me. I'm at my breaking point.

So I bit the bullet and went to pay my dear friend Evan Macmillan, or formally known as the Trapper, a visit with my parasite in tow. He was the first other killer I spoke to and I get the impression that he is like the makeshift peace-keeper in this place. The middle man between us and the spider in the sky. He knows a lot about this place and its inhabitants. If you ask me, Evan is the knitting-circle of everything, the gossip girl. Anyway, Macmillan heard us coming from a mile away and when I finally came face-to-face with him he crossed his beefy arms over his chest, cast a judgemental eye over me and the thing and simply stated, “Leatherface.”.  ‘Leatherface’ seemed to light up at the sound of his apparent name. Macmillan then turned to leave.

“Wait!” I jumped forward, Evan only so much as turning his head to look back at me. “Can’t you do anything about him! He’s always with me! Following and being loud and just being a general nuisance!” Macmillan raised an eyebrow. “Please! Just tell him to go home and to stop bothering me!” I swear I heard a quiet scoff from the large man.

“He has no ‘home’.” And just like that Evan disappeared leaving me with nothing but the man and his name. But I guess I did learn something, Leatherface was alone like me. He had no domain to return to.

I still don't like the guy. I would do anything to get him to leave me alone but I... can’t just tell him to fuck off. I realize that he does understand me, he is fully aware that of what I am saying and what I would like him to do but he can’t talk. He can only make noises, gestures and he likes to stick his tongue out a lot. I also can’t force him to leave. As much as I hate to admit it I am no match for that man. If he leaves, it would be by his choice. 

“So,” I venture, boredom and a morbid sense of curiosity taking control over my tongue, “got any girlfriends waiting for you on the other side?” Leatherface looks away from me bashfully.

“C’mon,” I tease, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “I’m sure the chicks back home were all dying over you. With that sleek hair and debonair grin, why I peg you for quite the ladies man if I do say so myself.” I was lying. He was fuck ugly. I was being rude and mean, trying to push him away by insulting him in a very passive-aggressive manner. Of course, that didn’t work.

Leatherface blushed under his mask and produced soft groans while nervously licking at his teeth. His shoulders came up to his ears as if he was trying to hide like a turtle retreating back into his shell. No luck on the being-rude front. Dejectedly I sigh and sit down against a tree in a clearing. Leatherface plops down next to me and pulls out a massive chainsaw. He sets to work fixing and maintaining it and after a while, I catch myself watching him. I huff and turn away, pulling out my notebook in order to document my earlier encounter with Macmillan. Out of nowhere, Leatherface pokes me in the ribs.

I loudly exhale and turn my head to face him. He offers what looks like a smile and passes his chainsaw to me. Begrudgingly I take it, the weapon was incredibly heavy and I need both hands just to hold it steady. Again I was amazed by his sheer size and strength, this man could hold the chainsaw with just one hand. Leatherface points out a name scratched into the plastic covering. 

“Bubba.” I read aloud. He squeals and claps his hands together delighted. I smirk at him. “So that's your name huh? Your real one.” He nods and points a large dirty finger at his chest. He taps himself then points at my chest. He wants to know my name. I don’t know what the point of knowing my name is, it���s not like he would say it but for some reason, a small part of me wanted to humor the big oaf.

“Ghostface,” I told him. He tilted his head. “But you can call me Danny.”

[kekyowin]

Going to a haunted house with the gang

Happy Halloween everyone! Thanks for 200 followers.

Mista first suggested the idea- to go to a haunted house on Halloween night. He seemed ecstatic about going and the excitement in his voice was so painfully obvious. Dressed as a priest, Mista claimed he would exorcise all evil from the house. Yet, he was the one in a corner, bawling his eyes out and traumatizing the poor haunted house workers. :(

Narancia seemed reluctant to go but when Mista called him a chicken, he immediately agreed. Dressed as his favorite rapper, his chains clanged as he ran away from the psycho clowns with chainsaws (he was also screaming the whole time). Narancia definitely jumped on Abbacchio and was immediately dropped to the floor. Lots of crying from Narancia resulted in the other crew members contemplating just leaving him there as he was embarrassing them. Everyone was looking.

Abbacchio definitely did not want to be there. Forced to dress up, he was a sad excuse for a vampire. He was everything but amused at the actors in the haunted house but the rest of the crew’s reactions were something he could look toward to. Eager to have more ways to tease them, Abba would remember who was scared shitless that day.

Bruno gave an exasperated sigh as Mista introduced his plans. All the capo wanted was to have a nice evening, maybe watch some throwback Halloween movies with the crew while sipping wine with Abbacchio. Instead he had to take care of a bunch of screaming kids that seemed to run around endlessly. Dressed as a fisherman, everyone called him Dad that day.

Trish was not that opposed to the idea of going to a haunted house as it was one of Halloween’s less messier activities. In the end, she just wanted to have fun while staying clean. With her small stature, she decided it would be cool to dress up as a body guard. The suit hung loose on her and let me tell you, she was ADORABLE. Trish always made sure she was in the middle of the group as they traveled through the house, that way there would be less jump scares.

Giorno dressed like his childhood hero, the man who he saved back then and the man who used to grant him small favors as a child. Dressed in a long brown coat with a suit underneath, Giorno looked as elegant as ever. When asked who he was supposed to be, Giorno replied, “The man who led me here.” Whenever an actor tried to scare him, Giorno would just stand there, nonchalantly admiring the person’s costume while the poor actor didn’t know what to do. Awkwardly shuffling away, the worker was flushed.

Fugo...well uhm. Let’s just say Fugo was a ghost?

Haha... Get it-

No?

Ok.

[chaosnradios]

About,

Ark-

Name: Anastasia

Age: Mature Immortal

Height: 5 feet 9 inches

Sexuality: Bisexual

Abilities:

- She can have up to 6 wings, or simply no wings if she chooses.

- She can summon the power of the sun, usually in her hands, to incinerate her enemies in battle, although this is used as a very last resort. Most of the time she just uses that power to warm up things.

- She is able to heal any physical wound and ease tense emotions into a state of calm.

- But she can’t do any spiritual healing, nor can she reverse old wounds/scar tissue. She is also unable to heal herself or others if she’s low on energy.

- She has two main weapons of choice that she can summon at any time, a long sword and a fauchard spear. She’s very skilled with both weapons, but 90% of the time she won’t even draw her weapon if someone attacks her. Since her hand to hand combat usually does the trick for knocking people down a peg.

- With the strength of her wings she’s able to break a person’s bones if she slams them into someone hard enough, she’s can also angle her feathers in such a way to where they can slice through things like small blades. Stabbing or slicing her wings through a wooden structure is also no difficult task.

Spider Knight-

Name: Malachi

Age: 573

Height: 6 feet 5 inches

Sexuality: Bisexual

Appearance (under the helmet): He has four crimson colored eyes, but his eyesight is terrible during the day, however his hearing is very sharp. He can have up to four arms, though he rarely shifts his torso. He has a decent pair of fangs with a split down the middle of his chin, which enables him to open up his bottom jaw into a pair of sharp mandibles. Though he only opens up his jaw if he plans on eating someone.

Abilities:

- With his fangs he can inject 2 different types of poison into someone. One poison can paralyze someone for a limited amount of time, although the more he injects into a person the longer they become paralyzed. The second poison is much more potent and deadly, and used more for his prey. The toxicity of it begins to slowly liquify the internal organs of his victim, and his victim will begin feeling the effects about five minutes in. It takes about 25 minutes for his victim’s insides to fully turn into soup, and from there he can feed accordingly.

- He can form and shoot webbing out of his hands, mostly to use as ropes to lasso his victims. Although he does like knitting with his webs from time to time.

- His only weapon, besides his sharp, iron tipped gauntlets, is a black colored dagger that he wears on his hip, the blade is about as long as his forearm.

- He’s able to climb up sheer walls, or even hang from the ceiling by his feet without much difficulty.

Drift-

Name: Dominic

Nicknames: Drift, Suné, Dom, Nick

Age: 22

Height: 5 feet 7 inches

Gender: Trans guy

Sexuality: Bisexual

Appearance:

He has hazel eyes with soft brown hair, usually styled in a mohawk. Although, it’s almost always hidden under the hood of a hot pink hoodie with black sleeves, that he hardy ever takes off. Black and gold sneakers, black pants with many pockets filled with snacks and cans of spray paint, and a white kitsune mask complete his outfit.

Talents/Habits:

- He’s good at getting into small spaces, and he’s also good at suddenly disappearing should things suddenly go south.

- He’s an excellent climber, not exactly an expert climber but he can get up to about any high place he sets his mind too.

- He has done some side jobs as a hacker to make some quick cash, but his greatest talent is his art. Which he uses to gladly tag and paint up any spot he wants to claim as his.

- The more dangerous a spot, or a spot that’s most likely to piss someone off, he’ll be even more determined to vandalize it.

- He doesn’t do it often, only if he’s desperate for food. But he’s an expert pickpocket and gas station thief. He knows just when and how to strike, and creating a diversion is practically second nature for him.

- Whether it be insomnia or anxiety, he’s unable to sleep for more then a few minutes at a time. Jumping awake at the slightest noise. Although, one could blame his poor eating habits. The man running on beef jerky, soda and paint fumes 99% of the time.

History:

He grew up in and out of foster homes just outside of LA California, due to being a bit of a runaway. He did his best to get along with the other kids, but he never felt like he belonged and that he should be somewhere else. When he turned 16 he booked it for good and was never found again.

He roamed the streets of LA and soon joined one of the local tagging gangs, it’s there that he perfected his art and quickly rose to the top. No place was to high, to low or to dangerous, and his signature kitsune tag had made him rather popular. To popular.

He had a brush with the cops and a brush with death when someone ratted out his next tagging spot, a billboard that hung high above one of the subway tunnels. He had just been finishing up when the cops swarmed the place, and refusing to get caught he had attempted to run.

A gun went off, the bullet barely missing his head and instead grazed his left eyebrow, but it was enough to catch him off balance and cause him to fall onto the tracks down bellow. Right, as one of the subway trains went by.

Rumor has it the bullet killed him before the train ran him over. Another rumor states that the bullet missed and the train took him out, splattering the whole side of the train in red. Some say that the red was a busted paint can, some believe otherwise. But one thing was for certain, the Kitsune of Los Angelas was dead.

Or, so they thought. Reports and media news of a large burger sign had been spotted out in the desert, and on the front of that sign was none other then that famous kitsune tag. Word was all over the news and all through out the dark parts of the streets, but in a matter of days, the burger and the tag had suddenly vanished.

X Lord-

Branded Number: A-S463

Name: Hacksaw

Age: 26

Height: 5 feet 9 inches

Sexuality: Bisexual

Appearance (plus under the helmet):

- He never takes his helmet off, and mainly walks around shirtless, finding it much more comfortable. Although he does keep his jacket close by when the nights get cold.

- He has green eyes with flecks of brown, and dark brown hair. Around the edges of his lips is mild scarring, due to having a bad habit of chewing and shredding his lips with his teeth when under stress.

- There’s a faded brand mark on the back of his neck, just above his shoulders. He received the brand when he first joined the wasteland’s arena.

Weaponry:

- His main weapon of choice are a pair of fully functioning chainsaws, modified to be much lighter so they’re easier to swing. Also modified to run on any fuel or oil, as well as using a trigger system from old gun parts to make revving up the blades much easier.

- In the pouch on his left hip he keeps a pistol and a knife, though he rarely ever uses them.

Talents:

- He’s extremely fast, both in running up on people to take them out, or face to face in a fight. Get the upper hand quick or you may lose more then a few fingers.

- Taking apart or rebuilding machines is child’s play. He’s also very fond of ripping apart and taking down mechs.

- He’s not one to shy away from the most brutal of tasks. Blood is his playground, and he’ll gladly kill more then a few people for coin or two, or even a meal as payment. He also has a tendency to take his victim’s heads as trophies, so long as his current client doesn’t want them first.

History:

Abandoned in the wastelands as a child, he was forced to fend for himself until he was captured by one of the biggest wasteland gangs. Branded, forced to fight, and forced to kill, he was trained to be nothing more then a fighting dog in the biggest gladiatorial arena of the wastelands.

Several times he was pitted against those who were much larger then him, both human and machine alike, and every time he came out on top. However there was one wasteland warrior, a woman who he could never defeat, no matter how many times they fought against each other. She was fierce, she was brutal and he was head over heels for her.

No matter how many times they fought each other, they were always evenly matched in strength and speed. Every fight ended in a draw, and when he found out that she too loved him, he knew he had to get them both out of this place.

Over a span of weeks he hatched a plan with her, and it was with her that they both broke out of the arena and slaughtered those who dared to keep them prisoner. They took over one of the gangs and she became queen, his queen, and may god help anyone who dared to disrespect his queen. He fought for her, killed for her, they fought and killed together. But, love in the wastelands never seems to last.

She had grown tired of the fighting, tired of the gang life, and tired of him, and so she walked out, dumping him and abandoning it all. Heartbroken he tried to fix what was wrong, tried to change for her, but she had made her decision and he obediently just left her be.

He ran the gang for 4 long years, before he snapped and slaughtered nearly 3/4ths of them all. He soaked the sand with blood, and mounted the heads of those he had killed on sticks. With the pain of his old life soothed and cut away, he walked into the wastelands and disappeared. The survivors of that awful day say he was swallowed up by a sandstorm. Some say he was swallowed up by a blinding rift of light. Never to be seen again. At least, that’s what they hoped...

[moon-czennie]

Haunted house // Yuta au

Word count: 2.5k  Genres: Mix of fluff and angst (kinda?) // horror (fake) Warnings: Some cursing, (fake) scares & horror Pairing: reader x bestfriend!Yuta

When your shared love for Halloween brings you to a haunted house, will Yuta, the self-proclaimed manly man, be as tough as he claims to be or will you need to protect yourself?

There were many reasons why you and Yuta were best friends, your shared love of Halloween being one. The fact that you hadn't visited a haunted house yet in all those years you'd had been friends, was actually astonishing. So when you heard the news about one happening in your town, you were quick to assemble a group of friends to go, including your best friend, of course.

"Alright, so here's what I'm thinking." Yuta spoke up as you all stood waiting in line. "We should split up and go in as duo's."

"What? Why?" One of your other friends, Taeyong, asked, his eyes widening at the suggestion. His lips slightly parted as he stared at his friend in bewilderment. You had talked him into tagging along, but he in no way was a fan of anything related to horror. The thought of going in with one other person instead of the entire group, wasn't going down well.

"It will obviously be scarier," Yuta explained excitedly. "Some of us will miss out on scares or other things if we all go in together. Six is a lot of people, the actors inside won't be able to surprise us as much as when we split up."

"I'm down," Ten said, holding onto his girlfriend's hand. "I'll obviously go with her. Sorry bro," he continued and shrugged at Taeyong.

"I want to go with my girl, Y/N." Yuta said and looked down at you with a twinkle in his eyes. "Cool?"

You briefly looked over at Taeil who was staring at the ground and seemed to casually kick at a small rock. You had a crush on him and the thought of him protecting you from the fake dangers lying ahead was definitely a nice one, but seemed to become less of a possibility with each second as he kept quiet.

Not wanting to let Yuta down either, being your best friend who loved Halloween as much as you did, you told him you'd pair up with him.

"Of course," you answered his question with a smile.

"So that leaves us," Taeil said, finally looking up, and wrapped his arm around Taeyong's shoulder.

"Great," Taeyong sighed, earning a laugh from his friends.

"We've been looking forward to this the longest, so we're going in first." Yuta claimed and grabbed you by your hand. "Let's get it!"

You handed their tickets to the man at the entrance and waved back at your friends.

Stepping into the darkness, you were glad to be with Yuta. Of all of your friends, he was considered to be the most manly and tough, a fact that somewhat calmed the nerves buzzing through you. Walking behind him, you made sure to stick close, not allowing a gap to form between the two of you.

A small corridor, created by a wooden wall that divided the main hall into two parts, led you towards the first room. Ripped fabric hung from the door frame, allowing muted beams of light to shine through from the other side. Not sure what to expect, Yuta maneuvered through the torn sheets as he scanned the room. His eyes darted from left to right and landed on a coffin in the middle of the room.

"I bet someone's in there," he whispered as he carefully took a step forward.

"In where?" You asked, peaking through the sheets.

Looking over his shoulder, Yuta snorted at the sight of you frozen in place.

"Don't tell me you're scared already," he said, reaching out his hand for you to grab.

"No... Maybe," you replied, trying to sound as casual as possible as you held onto him and moved next to his side.

"You're too cute," he said, and petted your head with his free hand.

You cringed at the gesture. You were older than your best friend, but with him being taller and your young looks, it was easy to treat you like you weren't.

"Let's just look in the coffin," you said, and pushed him forward with your shoulder, not letting go of him as he obeyed.

You walked up to the black box that stood slightly ajar. Placing his hand on the beveled lid, Yuta slowly pushed it open while you kept a safe distance, looking past him into the coffin.

A sense of relief washed over you as you saw a vampire doll lying on the red velvet cushion. A sigh escaped your lips as you momentarily closed your eyes, but when you opened them again you were met by two crazed eyes and screamed your lungs out.

Yuta, who hadn't noticed your visitor coming in either, jumped backwards at the sound and widened his eyes at the sight of a bloody zombie hovering over you both.

"Holy shit!" He yelled before bursting out in laughter. "I didn't see that coming. Woah!"

As you got over the initial scare, you let out a breathy laugh and shook your head. You really had to get a grip on yourself if you were going to make it out of there without fainting. You weren't sure what would be worse, that, or the relentless teasing you'd face from Yuta if you continued screaming like a child.

Walking past the actor, Yuta laughed as he scared you once more, making you sprint towards the door. The next room was similar to the first one with its ripped curtains and wallpaper peeling off the rotting walls. As you walked through it, lights flashed above a mirror and a scary looking face appeared in it. It did nothing to Yuta, but you squeezed your eyes shut and jerked your head the other way.

At the sound of loud knocks coming from inside the walls, you pushed Yuta forward.

"You're in a hurry, huh?" He snickered as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. "I thought you'd love this."

"I do, but that doesn't mean I don't feel on edge." You admitted, strategically picking your choice of words.

You did enjoy getting spooked. It was the part about Halloween and scary movies you had always loved the most. However, you weren't going to give your best friend the pleasure of hearing you say you were actually scared.

As you continued walking through the house, the rooms gradually became darker, with just a few flickering lights to guide you through. The only breaks in darkness came when someone leaped out of the shadows accompanied by bright flashing lights. The sudden change in brightness did nothing but add to your nerves.

Walking up the stairs to the second floor, you could hear that Taeil and Taeyong had entered the house. A scream was heard, followed by laughter and Taeil yelling at his friend to stop pulling on his arm.

"That's your man?" Yuta said, snorting at the loud screams coming from the other duo.

"Shut up!" You replied, slapping his arm. "We can't all be as cold blooded like you, Yuta."

With a smug smile on his face, he reached the top of the stairs and led you into the next room. As you stepped over the threshold, wind blew up from underneath you, the machine making a loud sound that made both of you jump.

"I saw that," you sniggered as you pushed your hair down and away from your face.

Yuta uttered a 'tsk' sound without saying anything else and moved forward carefully.

Body bags hung from the ceiling and the flashing white lights made it difficult to see where you were going. Though you knew something was coming, a swinging movement from one of the bags scared you half to death. You stumbled backwards gasping, landing on the floor. Grabbing at your chest, you exhaled dramatically.

You could hear Yuta's laughter coming closer and found his arm stretched out in front of you. Grabbing his hand, you got pulled back to your feet and made sure to hold onto him tightly.

"That's what you get for teasing me," Yuta chuckled as he maneuvered past the body bags with you trailing behind him.

"Yeah, yeah." You mumbled. "Whatever."

Before you could reach the next room, a zombie with burn-marks swung forward. You buried your face into Yuta's back and pushed him forward, not looking up at the actor that had scared you.

Entering the burned down room, you knew you were in trouble. Red and yellow flickering lights were coming from behind the wooden panels on the walls, smoke pushed through and loud growls filled up the room.

"There's someone there," Yuta said, pointing in front of him.

You looked towards it and spotted a dark figure standing in the corner of the room.

"I can see you!" You shouted in a poor attempt to make yourself feel less scared.

Focused on the zombie in front of them, you didn't notice the same one from the other room sneaking up behind you. Standing next to you, he leaned forward and twisted his head in your direction.

"Oh my god!" You yelled out as you came face to face with him, and fell into Yuta's arms.

As all other times, Yuta couldn't help but laugh, but protected you from the fake zombies popping up left and right as you exited the room.

Moving on, some rooms were closed off. Or so you thought. Walking through the hallway, some of the previously closed doors flung open and actors in all kinds of Halloween costumes jumped out to scare you.

When a man with a bloodied burlap sack over his head leaped in front of you, even Yuta couldn't contain his screams any longer. He jumped backwards at the sound of a chainsaw revving up and crouched behind you as the machine in the man's hands whirred violently above his head.

When you calmed down from your own scare and realized what was going on, you couldn't stop laughing. Yuta, the toughest guy you knew, had actually finally snapped.

"Manly, huh?" You said in-between laughs and turned around to face your friend.

Yuta's face was drained of all color. There wasn't much left of his usual glowing melanin skin and it somehow made it even funnier for you.

"You look even more pale than I do," you shrieked. You were often teased for having a pale complexion yourself, so it felt good to get him back on that one.

"Fucking hell," Yuta huffed as he stood up straight, pushing his dark brown bangs from his eyes. "You got me good!" He said, talking to the actor.

"I now get why you never want to watch scary movies with chainsaws in them," you said, letting out a final breathy laugh.

"I hate them so much," Yuta admitted as the two of you walked back towards the stairs to enter the final areas of the haunted house.

On your way down, you came across Taeil and Taeyong.

"Did we just hear you... scream?" Taeil asked Yuta, hilarity audible in his voice as he spoke the last word.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Yuta said with a shrug of his shoulders. "We've been hearing you scream non-stop. You're gonna hate it up there."

Taeyong's eyes widened at his friend's revelation and swallowed harshly. He was ready to hop over the railing and run outside, but Taeil grabbed him at his hood and pulled him back.

"You're not leaving me, TY."

"I regret tagging along so much," Taeyong whimpered before waving a small bye to you and Yuta.

"Poor guy," you said, more to yourself than anyone else.

Even though you got spooked in every part of the house so far, you did enjoy it after it happened, unlike Taeyong, who sincerely didn't like any of it. You hoped that maybe once you were outside, he'd change his mind and decide it hadn't been so bad. If not, you knew you'd feel guilty for having convinced him to tag along.

"Ready for these last couple rooms?" Yuta asked, taking your mind off Taeyong.

"Probably not," you confessed and grabbed his arm even tighter, taking cover behind him as you had done many times before.

You walked through plastic curtain strips and found yourselves in a white tiled room. Blood spatters were on the walls, a crimson streak running from the door as if someone had dragged a body across the room. The buzzing noise from the fluorescent lights sent a shiver through your entire body, putting you more on edge than you had been before.

The entire setting reminded you too much of the Silent Hill video games you used to play, and you weren't having any of it. You hoped you could walk past the patient strapped down on the surgery table without interference, but as to be expected it wasn't in the cards for you.

The man jerked upwards and towards you, screaming in your faces, and both you and Yuta screamed back at him. Yuta had played the video games with you and didn't like how scary they were, either. As you turned to run away, you found themselves face to face with a bloody, bandaged up nurse with a knife in her hand. It seemed like you weren't the only ones who knew about Silent Hill.

"No!" Yuta shouted, shaking his head violently. "Nuh-uh! This is NOT cool!"

You wanted to laugh, but at the same time you felt like crying. A high pitched noise escaped your lips before pulling Yuta along, struggling to get past the nurse.

He pointed in the actress' face, cursing under his breath.

"No!" He yelled as she feigned to attack him, brandishing the weapon in her right hand. "NO! Fuck!" He said again, leaning backwards to dodge the fake knife.

You waited for him at the door, watching bemusedly as he flipped off the actors in the room. You bent over laughing, placing your hands on your stomach as it hurt from laughing so hard.

Yuta shook his head and sighed deeply, flipping you off as well as he reached you.

"Are we done here?"

Not sure if he was talking about your laughter or walking through the haunted house, you chuckled either way. You were pleased to see the actors could scare him, too. At least now he couldn't make fun of you in weeks to come without you being able to tease him back.

The last rooms you entered looked like they were outside. It had been painted to look like you walked through a graveyard surrounded by trees, underneath the dark night's sky. The sandy floor had bumps all over where the fake graves were, and fake hands were poking through it. It had made you jump multiple times as you bumped into them.

A dark shadow lurked behind one of the gravestones, but neither Yuta nor you had noticed it until it was too late. A zombie covered in dirt jumped out and made both of you stumble backwards, with Yuta falling over one of the graves.

"Are you okay?" You asked, trying to hold back a chuckle.

Yuta pushed himself up from the floor and nodded, clearly amused himself. The spooky decorations and brilliant actors had made your first haunted house experience a success, and you knew it definitely wouldn't be your last.

If you liked this imagine, you might like my story Fear! This is actually chapter 3 of that story, but with a few changes (such as POV). I thought chapter 3 would work nicely as a solo imagine, but it’s even better as part of a full story ;) Click here to read it!

[glopratchet]

retirement-home

A large group of soldiers are patrolling in front of it "We can't let them go! The man who was about to kill me I will not let you do it "It's a trap! He is the key, says a voice that's haunting me life It calls and whispers Undergrowth seeking life You turn to the left and tell the ghosts that you want to watch some romantic movie illuminating the endless hallway Lightpoles illuminating the endless hallway He turns around and looks right through you, making meaningful eye contact with you and grins of concrete and metal It feels like an eternity that passes Construction of concrete and metal are moving forward Whispers impregnating your eardrums Blushing bride in a wedding dress Green-skinned bodyguards are moving forward around his bleeding neck I'm getting annoyed with you Green tiles glitter in the sun Bandages around his bleeding neck attached to the face of an old man (Sobs)" Monitors attached to the face of an old man for a deadly virus Eyelashes fluttering at you flirtatiously, trying to make a bond Vaccine for a deadly virus stand ready Missiles are flying through the air In the flames of a funeral pyre Shocktroops stand ready for blood-transmitted disease His mouth goes into an O as the electricity approaches it You've got choices to make Pharmaceuticals for blood-transmitted disease poker table Fire tears through your skeleton as you let out an unearthly and unnatural scream mingling with the sizzle of burning flesh High-roller poker table march in unison The carpet smells of nauseating misery and cheap perfume To your right there stands a half-naked woman made entirely of metal Lizards march in unison heeds your call and burninates the lot of them there Aiming his rifle at the floor Gorazel rids himself of this fragile and twisted world Gorazel heeds your call and burninates the lot of them there with cybernetic arms "Afterbirth It is just afterbirth " she whispers before her head disintegrates into ash Cyber-surgeon with cybernetic arms with spicy swagger from Africa North to South America Agent walking with spicy swagger from Africa North to South America form and reform Cities getting consumed and regurgitated Clouds that gather and dissipate Borders form and reform and yawning Pushing the agent out of a plane without a parachute Agent stretching and yawning shot eyes as a child lays on the floor Vessels carrying the blood and pathogens of humanity Metallic pieces float through your fingers Bloodshot eyes as a child lays on the floor for the injured and the old On hot rocks under the blazing sun Escaping and cuffing crack whores and transients The trigger Agent caregiving for the injured and the old begets cat begets elephant Walls that say nothing and yet speak up loudly Rows and columns of quiet zeros and unsifted ones Dog begets cat begets elephant and whey-filtering 3 hyperintelligent personal choices: A middle-aged blind woman listening to the howls of her starving children? Agent cheese-making and whey-filtering the streets looking for the next hot rap beat A dukun's sacrificial knife disappearing into your stomach Agent roving the streets looking for the next hot rap beat erupting in your brain The dog turns to ash and blows away in the wind Cyclone erupting in your brain programmes for the poor, cancer-stricken and addicted victims of the government's medical testing facilities A hard newspaper slap erupting color into your face Agent well-being programmes for the poor, with the sudden fear and loss with thick muscular layers injected into your flesh Both are true simultaneously, and the other one's false Random? Agent coping with the sudden fear and loss with thick muscular layers injected into your flesh the sexual tension between an unstoppable army and the organized administration Agent catalyzing the sexual tension between an unstoppable army and the organized administration Los Angeles' backyard Throat cancer all too real Bad book cheaper than a bar of gold Agent landscaping Los Angeles' backyard patients without remorse Is this a statement on some perceived American values? Agent mistreating patients without remorse the poverty-stricken, famine-ravaged, plague-infested villages! Agent diagnosing the poverty-stricken, the head of a dying child Shedding his camouflage battle armor in order to sneak into the community and eliminate all opposition The stories never stop! Agent stroking the head of a dying child a North Korean sleeper agent hell-bent on starting WW3 with American forces in South Korea Posing as a charming, naive, clumsy fool Agent portraying a North Korean sleeper agent hell-bent on starting WW3 with American forces in South Korea empathy in the local villagers by acting like an imbecile Pawn of the Overseer smashing his hammer down on your head Agent evoking empathy in the local villagers by acting like an imbecile S-Mart employees jumping off the roof of the business tower Kony! Agent photographing S-Mart employees jumping off the roof of the business tower about a prominent civil rights martyr's suicide The store around yourself collapsing like a grand waterfall made of bricks Agent joking about a prominent civil rights martyr's suicide dandruff off a bald man's shoulders A hand fighting through the blood-thickened waters reaching upwards for you Agent brushing dandruff off a bald man's shoulders Agent mistaking an entire University's opposition for terrorists trucks gathering the bodies to be ground up and incinerated Death? Sanitation trucks gathering the bodies to be ground up and incinerated hollowly roaming the woods growing larger every year An inescapable doom The hospital room's white floors start glowing red Colossus hollowly roaming the woods growing larger every year citizens' lives in your hands Swimming through the syrup of American life Community-dwelling citizens' lives in your hands ' livelihood-such as it's Some plutocrat having a good laugh at your expense Muckety-mucks' livelihood-such as it's ceremony The towns fuse into a single mass Rough fingers scratch the back of your neck Pure fear drips in your mouth Ribbon-cutting ceremony fired into the air A lion's den or a lamb's trailer? Trashcan lids beaten like dusty drums in abandoned lots Balloons fired into the air the beard that'll get you on the news The sharp hush of people too afraid to breathe Grooming the beard that'll get you on the news flashing their thumbnails at passing cars Keeping the scary bad man away like a fire-breathing dragon Skinnys flashing their thumbnails at passing cars the depressed, the suicidal, the helpless Traps baited with shiny objects to snare the wandering dead Counseling the depressed, wiping off the top of the bar Grease on your forehead to keep the angels away Bumblebees glimpsed in the shrinking floral patches Bartenders wiping off the top of the bar crayfish and snakes as the fisheries die off one by one Dirty feet pounding on the hot ground Eating crayfish and snakes as the fisheries die off one by one sickos built like brick walls Some park bench prophet gesticulating wildly at the sky Hexed or simply fated? Whisky-joint sickos built like brick walls on the question too long will make you insane Catching minnows and tadpoles from the wet spots in the sidewalk Dwelling on the question too long will make you insane Sodbuster crawling through the wilderness wearing bear gaiters Mussel-white and thin-layered like a shale formation with one eye open and a pheasant in your lap Cleansing the town of the evil that took so many victims Sleeping with one eye open and a pheasant in your lap revving up for the chamber of horrors Blackmail trading sexual favors for answers from your teacher Run you clever boy Mini-chainsaw revving up for the chamber of horrors 's lessons taught to the whole class Lunches inhaled in the bathroom A cigarette lighter and those three golden hairs in an envelope Astryl's lessons taught to the whole class and wads of gum The desk across from you sits empty for weeks at a time Toothpaste and wads of gum excitedly about some discovery Glass shattering under the swelling weight of corpses Trick or treat! Give me something good to eat! Shambles excitedly about some discovery to a whole brood of abandoned children Samuel, with the old testament name, works at the Church Wet-nurse to a whole brood of abandoned children all about local celebrities Blots out the life-light of another soul Melancholic and withdrawn, with harp-like musical talent Chatters all about local celebrities leading miles and miles into the darkness Their walls bleed dark Plasmids Now she's leading them towards you Passageways leading miles and miles into the darkness of weighing 280 pounds on a five foot nothing frame Living weeds holding a cemetery together with their grasp Mocking them leads to cannibalism Admission of weighing 280 pounds on a five foot nothing frame in a land of savages You're in a nursery of some sort, with inmates watching your every move Weakness-magnets in a land of savages comfort in a wasteland of thorn bushes The choice is yours! Homelike comfort in a wasteland of thorn bushes and sugar overhear Crepitus practicing his drumming Galvanized into sweet wildflowers that cloak the razor-wire cliffs of the asylum Cafffeine and sugar overhear Crepitus practicing his drumming dealing the passing years a losing game of Go Pompous pathologist disecting the century into little bits and pieces Gerontologist dealing the passing years a losing game of Go doesn't look dangerous, at first Irate dwarfs swarm around your jostling for position Tumblebleeds doesn't look dangerous, strapped to your blindfolds Paleontologist hacking a species out of stone Cognizance strapped to your blindfolds of windy dust ocassionally swallow the rails Trick or treat, give us something good to eat! Pretty pretty please! Gusts of windy dust ocassionally swallow the rails machine plugged into cables running off a generator Your ears begin to ring Give us something good, something sweet! Life-prolonging machine plugged into cables running off a generator peeling away a century of glue and stone You fall asleep to an urgent voice on the telephone Surgeries peeling away a century of glue and stone injury tricking you into meeting your first ghoul Give us something good to eat! Sports injury tricking you into meeting your first ghoul Mousehole tram service, payday loan centers, and a cobbler Only hours left before the lynchmob arrives at your door nothing human here of the dead through mysterious machines Civic spirifax: popular name for the city crematoriums Resurrection of the dead through mysterious machines wailing from the mechanical graveyard No shops or even a tavern in sight Harmonica wailing from the mechanical graveyard overflowing with moths and withered leaves Cataclysmic storms batter the city nine months out of the year Mattresses overflowing with moths and withered leaves once a word for pirate loot, now the preferred name for alcohol Immortalized in painted portraits and marble busts Booty: factories where god-images used to sit Check to make sure it's lacking a heart and h Padded cells for the city's more violent patients Rusted-out factories where god-images used to sit gleaming upon decaying stone Phosphorus gleaming upon decaying stone rag-dolls stuffed with missing organs Bananas rotting in old jungle growth Insiders trading secrets over for contraband Automaton rag-dolls stuffed with missing organs searching for the secret of immortality Papers protected us from rioters, Removed by guillotine, rising as a puppet-king Megalomaniac searching for the secret of immortality y film over ancient knives Laboratory hidden behind an iron mask Cogs and levers digging holes into the future Dusty film over ancient knives reading palms and prophesying solderless rifles Preserved longer than elephants You see their desiccated bodies riddled with rifle-bullets Patriots reading palms and prophesying solderless rifles rediscovered, the murderer's escaped Ajar door leading you into blindness Yog-Sothoth consume your mind Adrenaline rediscovered, preserved in oil Your fiendish ancestor howls in pain Poisonous killer with baby's fingers Conquistadors preserved in oil patient lying in wait beneath your bed Dungeons like a fun house, laughing at your pain Mute trophies of heads on pikes Gangrenous patient lying in wait beneath your bed Faucet pouring alcohol in a stream of fluid gold Pigeon-Blood Meds, curing all ills with addictions Your file's getting thicker, the Day of the Rope draws near Blades ready fly out and turn flesh to finest sawdust tells you which dimensions to avoid The Vampire's gaze rots your heart to a spongy mush Triangulation tells you which dimensions to avoid of a Ghoulish Messiah frighten the masses Mad scientist gives birth to hellish abomination Confidence becomes hysteria, solves crime with ease Preachings of a Ghoulish Messiah frighten the masses eats away at iron and willpower alike Dead Man's undertaking service provides no solution Blueprints for a makeshift fallout shelter Corrosion eats away at iron and willpower alike for a charismatic speaker Molotov cocktail for a riot Scarf of faded rose-print, you knit yourself one last autumn Soapbox for a charismatic speaker on the mirror, guilt written on your face Can of water to douse flames when you go out for a smoke Moisture on the mirror, that he was blessed by the Creator Conversion by a opportunistic preacher Cops pay you to find missing person Sermons that he was blessed by the Creator yourself or be lobotomized Faded purple veil that dare not touch bedrock Leathery wings that doomed you to a life of Poverty Lobotomize yourself or be lobotomized for a crime family Greaser Gang Nurse tells you to avoid Harold Sleeping, he's a killer Delivery for a crime family Greaser Gang and tubes of priceless genetic material Anagram for a former friend, a Communist Sympathizer Toothbrushes and tubes of priceless genetic material worth more than a miner's lifetime Zombie hides his looted golden ring in your desk Hag with a pet human child Diamonds worth more than a miner's lifetime of immense power, able to call down Lighting Tenants included plague-ridden rats Sine, cosine, tangent of Neverwas Talisman of immense power, alcoholic Mad Chemist in your graduating class Glue-huffing art-major consumed by his latest work Stinky, put into your irrigation Mice imported from far-off lands Tenacious explorers chew through your food supply Insecticide put into your irrigation feed of bodily waste and ignorance Witches brew in their cauldrons, evil or good? Fantasy Europe appears every high-noon Oozes feed of bodily waste and ignorance name you hero for the year Nuns teach the ways of proper hygeine Moth-eaten vase full of emptiness Newspapers name you hero for the year from a Thousand different countries City on wheels with a strict class-system Crimson floods across the necks of your enemies Diplomats from a Thousand different countries confused by your lack of sports acumen Trapping yourself in the maze of your mind Disappearing yourself into Dreams every day Jocks confused by your lack of sports acumen exiled to a snowy realm Spotted Fever after an embrace with your sweetie Bertrand Russell in Anarchy U Eskiminzins exiled to a snowy realm sculpting the perfect man Classmate killed by Thing From Outer Space Handcuffs, slaves to your libido Physique sculpting the perfect man invisibility granting Ring Decadent mermaid hunters from the East Prometheus lets the World wallow in Darkness Garden-variety invisibility granting Ring and hallucinations for detention hall Green lightning, a psychedelic compound times ten Government killers trained in secret since boyhood Chemicals and hallucinations for detention hall need blood for their art's essence Whilte Vermin from the silent kingdoms of the East Curse a blue moon to be forever romantic Designers need blood for their art's essence tests let you appreciate your own design A certain pushpin holds your map to the stars Strange storm of origin unknown Anatomy tests let you appreciate your own design with skin like coal or pale as milk Meteors that burn up in the atmosphere Insects bred for war but can't reproduce Populations with skin like coal or pale as milk and cigarettes to get you through the day People with extra-limbs allow them into your class Great beast killed by mere introduction to fire Coffee and cigarettes to get you through the day of the highest regard are recognized Golems of Nazi design awaken the demon Robot Emperor rat, half man half genius inventing race Hoppers of the highest regard are recognized from the insane convicted Slime from the shadows lay silent and forgotten Colossal sized super-soldiers capture you Livers from the insane convicted grows fat on forbidden knowledge One must sacrifice for the Emperor Poems and paintings explain everything It's size changes with distance but still absurd Nobility grows fat on forbidden knowledge goes deaf every full-moon This curse developed with puberty and teenagerhood Crossover between man and monster Vicinity goes deaf every full-moon and supplements are nourishment Procured immorality clause for world leaders Bloody daisies grow from the carnage Vitamins and supplements are nourishment red as the dawn sharing your dreams Innocent folk drown country-side in medieval europe Scorpions red as the dawn sharing your dreams feed the children full of seeds Convicted by a shoe-print and upheld by circumstantial evidence Watermelons feed the children full of seeds babies run amok in waste forests Thin rays of androgynous moon Inept biologists with laughably low funding Dumpster babies run amok in waste forests brutes all full of talk but no action Willy-nillys all talk and no follow-thorugh sort Bravado brutes all full of talk but no action -buggy caked with guts the color of sand Spamming programs molesting your devices Longevity treatments for the ultra-wealthy Dune-buggy caked with guts the color of sand net tightens round the world Apocalypse-weave net tightens round the world soldiers true and steady Marvellous machinery of destruction, untold damage done Spit-and-polish soldiers true and steady Super-soldiers immune to pain and fear Everyone waves, what a nice place this is Clueless aliens from the oceans depths undercover agents for the gov Taking life one day at a time One hundred and four servants of heaven Teetotaler undercover agents for the gov unmasked as serial killer Greasers and hoodlums battling over slushie machines Heroin halts pain receptors rampantly addictive though Zoologist unmasked as serial killer favorite snack of the tribes GCHQ agents subvert your internet activity Dull silver medallion needed to pilot airship Lizard-on-a-stick favorite snack of the tribes painted red for the kill Theft of robot modifications for necromantic experiments Glow in the dark fungus lures the unwary Endoskeleton painted red for the kill test means Hope for a new life Dancing lights entertain the tribes children Singing rocks share tales of ancient lost brothers Phenotype test means Hope for a new life experiments gone horribly wrong Leader-follower behavior leads sheep to slaughter Giggling deep in the mines all infected with parasites Moreauvian experiments gone horribly wrong The horrors below must be watched carefully You suffer eternal torment crying out for mommy Even a slight mistake will destroy your soul Time to pull up, the earth is rushing towards you Atmosphere fizzing like a hits water after popping a bean and charred again and again If the angle is to steep then you will hit with enough force to smash you like a watermelon If impact is to shallow then back you go back into space to be frozen and charred again and again Mastery of only one is needed for survival 's environmental needs Pick the wrong liquid and you get one less chance to try again You will need to float the egg in some liquid so you will need to find some liquid that is the same as egg's environmental needs like a pinball deleting the needed energy from its movement to miss the infant to absorption The container will need to be rigid to make sure that the walls do not flex or the egg could bang on the walls like a pinball deleting the needed energy from its movement to miss the infant to absorption it is up to you the chance of cracking it is directly related to the speed An egg can withstand between 20 to 30 gs before cracking it is up to you the chance of cracking it is directly related to the speed Ranco Pick 1 0 2147483131 Numbers Please! Rnco You jump into the abyss Ranco Your burning body turned to ash And It's over What a way to go I wish it were my own END You wish this were your own

[distant-rose-archive-blog]

I'm living for your little pirates verse! What about Wes being jealous about Beth being born and Harrison comforting him?

Thank you so much for being a fan of my Little Pirates series. I’m really glad that people are enjoying my darlings. With that being said, your prompt is a little on the tricky side, mainly because when Beth is born, Harrison is 4 years old and Wes is 2 years old, and while Wes is totally capable of being jealous of Beth, I don’t think Harrison is quite old enough to provide that comfort for him yet. So, for this one, I’ve decided to venture outside the Little Pirates side of this universe and into the Ever After side, which is all stories about Harrison, Wes and Beth when they’re older and very much coming into their own as people. So in this one, Harrison is roughly 31, Wes is 29 and Beth is 27. It’s mainly focused on Harrison and Wes reminiscing on their childhood and comparing it to Harrison’s own children in regards to jealously. Anyway, spoilers (I guess?) to the fates I have designed for all three of them. So here’s 3,600+ words on older!Harrison and older!Wes talking about…a variety of things but mainly childhood jealous towards siblings (thanks Laura for letting me bounce ideas for this prompt off you. you’re my mvp.)

Wes Jones arrived at the Rabbit Hole early Friday afternoon for his night shift to see his older brother Harrison sitting at the bar, a row of rum glasses in front of him. Wes raised his eyebrows, assessing the scene with increasing curiosity. Harrison, ever the black sheep in the Jones family, was never much of a rum drinker. That honor normally was bestowed upon their younger sister who drank rum like it was water. Harrison was very much a beer guy and generally stuck to his lagers the same way he stuck to his calf brown bomber jacket, which was to almost absurd daily routine.

If Harrison was drinking rum, it normally meant he was upset about something, but what he could be so upset about, Wes didn’t know. Harrison had his life put together. He had taken over for their mother as sheriff of Storybrooke, married a smoking hot Princess of Agrabah and had three adorable children, one of which was newly born. Harrison was the picture of stability; an unmovable, unshakeable mountain. Wes, on the other hand, was a volcano ready to erupt; half in love with the mother of his daughter, half in love with his childhood best friend, his music store was barely afloat and he could barely keep up with all the requests for magic thrown his way now that the citizens of Storybrooke realized that they now had options in regard to local magic users. All and all, Wes was amateur juggler playing with chainsaws instead of plush balls and he had far too many of them in the air.

“What do we do with drunken sailor? What do we do with a drunken?” Wes sang as he approached his brother, swinging himself over the bar and offering Harrison his signature smirk.

“Hilarious,” Harrison replied with a roll of his eyes as he threw back another glass of rum.

“You know for someone who doesn’t like being compared to Dad, you are doing an amazing rendition of Killian Jones right now. I mean, honestly, the resemblance from the face and scowl right down to the throwing back rum shots like it’s water…I’m just so impressed right now.”

“You are literally the worst bartender I’ve ever come across in my life,” Harrison replied with a roll of his eyes and if Wes was feeling a little more dick-ish, he would have taken that moment to point out that the eye roll was also very their father.

It wasn’t that Harrison didn’t like their father, quite the opposite in fact. Harrison admired the man, but he didn’t necessarily want to be him or the expectations that came with being Killian Jones. The citizens of Storybrooke however? They never seem to get that memo and loved to regale on the fact that Harrison strongly resembled their father. It always had amused Wes that they thought that. Sure, they looked similar, but that was as far as the resemblance went. Harrison was more of the same vein as their Grandfather David personality wise - morally upstanding, dependable, loyal and a tad self-righteous. It was Beth really who was all Killian Jones from her excessive use of manipulative charm to the fact she was an actual goddamn pirate complete with her own ship, adventures and a goddamn pirate husband/boyfriend/fuck buddy/whatever the hell Jim Hawkins was.

Wes, on the other hand, took after no one really in particular. He was the wild card and had always relished in that role. He never felt the need to live up or live down any one’s legacy; it gave him a sense of freedom to do with himself as he pleased. Maybe that’s why his life was comparative to a dumpster fire.

“I’m probably maybe one out of like five bartenders that you actually know, so it’s not like you have a huge pool to pick from,” Wes replied, focusing his attention on dirty glasses that were littering his side of the bar. Honestly, the new kids they kept hiring were sloppy as hell and he was getting too old for this.

Harrison frowned for a moment as if he had never thought about it before. Wes didn’t understand how he didn’t because aside from occasional cross-realm trips, they didn’t leave Storybrooke much. There was just too much going on in this ridiculous small town for either of them to leave. Sometimes, Wes envied his sister in that regard. She was the one that got away.

“You might actually be right there.”

“I know I’m right,” Wes replied with a tiny smirk. “But that doesn’t tell me what you’re doing at the bar at 4:30 in the afternoon when you have a gorgeous wife, two cute rascally sons and a painfully adorable newborn daughter at home…”

“I needed a break,” Harrison said after a moment, staring down at the bar like he was ashamed to admit it. “I need a break from everything and that’s why I came here…to unwind a bit…I guess.”

Wes nodded like he understood, which of course he didn’t. When Wes wanted to unwind and take a break from the world, he would get drunk by himself, eat cheerios out of the cereal box and watch whatever trashy reality television show his television had to offer. He didn’t go to public establishments where other people could see and, even worse, talk to him. However, that was all a matter of personal temperament. Harrison actually liked being around people, craved it even. Wes, more or less, was tolerant of people at best and while he occasionally enjoyed company, he could do without.

“Unwinding is something I can understand,” Wes said finally after a small silence fell between the two brothers. “But what the hell do you need unwinding from, Superman?”

As he glanced up from the glasses, Wes caught their reflection in the mirror located on the wall behind Harrison’s head. Night and day, they were both in coloring and demeanor and Wes was always reminded of it whenever he saw pictures of them together. Harrison had taken their father’s looks and darker coloring while Wes had taken after their mother with his near-white blonde hair and pale skin, but on the inside they were reversed. Harrison was, unfailingly, light in heart and in deed. Wes had some shadows on his soul and more than a few dark spots on his heart. He never pretended to be a saint however. No, Wes Jones wasn’t always the nicest guy on the block, but he never pretended to be otherwise.

“Sami and Kam are being awful about the new baby,” Harrison finally replied, breaking Wes from his morose thoughts, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. “Every time Kam sees us looking after Hana, he throws a fit, starts crying and will cling to us for hours. Sami asked me the other day if we could give her back and get a puppy instead.”

“Oh,” Wes blinked for a moment and then gave his brother a casual shrug. “They’re just jealous. It’s normal.”

“Normal?” Harrison looked incredulous. “How is that normal? Shouldn’t they be excited? She’s new and she’s their sister. Hell, I was excited when you guys came around.”

“Well, that’s because you’re a freak of nature, Superman,” Wes replied with a roll of his eyes. He just couldn’t help it. Of course, Harrison wouldn’t understand the concept of sibling jealously. He had been the golden boy when they were growing up. He never had to really compete the same way that Wes had to. Middle child syndrome was a very real thing and Wes had never felt a bigger kinship to his nephew Kam than he did that moment. The poor kid was going to have to deal with Sami as the oldest and Hana as the youngest. “It’s normal to hate your siblings. I mean I hated Beth for the longest time when we were little. Bitch got away with everything when we were kids. Still does.”

“You hated Beth? But you guys were close growing up,” Harrison said, staring at Wes like he had been replaced with an alien. On some days, Wes wished that was true particularly on days when he and his ex-girlfriend Bobbi couldn’t decide on a schedule in regards to their two year old daughter Gina.

“We were close when we were teenagers,” Wes corrected. “Because Beth kinda became cool about things and you weren’t, but when we were little, I kinda hated her because she was the baby and everyone adored her, especially Dad. Beth could have committed murder and Dad would have still looked at her like the sun rose and fall on her ass.”

“You say that like you never got away with anything,” Harrison responded, taking his last glass and draining it. He then made a gesture for Wes to pour him another line.

Wes paused for a moment, studying his older brother. He got just gotten to the bar and Harrison had seven glasses in front of him. Harrison was a relatively large guy who would look comfortable on a college football line and he could certainly hold his liquor, but Wes wasn’t sure exactly how many shots he had prior to the seven empties. To be safe and somewhat responsible for once (irony of this was not lost on him), Wes poured his older brother a pint of lager instead. Harrison scowled in response, but said nothing about the change.

“I did get away with things, but it wasn’t because I was the “baby” like she was. I got away with things because I got good at getting around everyone and it’s easy to ignore the middle child. Especially in our family. I mean you were the golden boy. Beth was Daddy’s little sweetheart. Me? I was just the bad kid. The disappointment. Still kinda am,” Wes replied honestly.

“Please tell me that you don’t believe the proverbial pile of shit you just laid on this bar.” Harrison slammed his fist down on the bartop and the sound of it thundered throughout the Rabbit Hole. A few patrons a few seats away looked at Harrison in a mixture of fear and startlement. They took their drinks and located to another table. Smart people. Harrison was known for breaking things when he wasn’t being careful and breaking a bar top would not be out of character for him.

“It’s not shit. It’s the truth,” Wes replied. “I mean, look at you. You’re Sheriff and you’re married to your true love and you’ve got three beautiful if slightly bratty children. And Beth? Beth’s gonna surpass Dad as scourge of the seas, she’s been to more realms than probably everyone that has ever existed and she’s got Jim fucking Hawkins wrapped around her finger. We won’t even touch Henry because he’s just a level of perfection that not even you, the golden Jones boy, can obtain. Me? I’m just-“

“The most powerful magic user in Storybrooke who has surpassed the Dark One, Regina, Gideon and Bobbi in ability if anyone in this damn town would be honest about it. You’re the most cunning and adaptable man who can survive anything that’s thrown at him and not in the bullshit way that Dad survives strictly because Mom won’t lie him die, I mean, like actually survives through sheer force of will and wit. You’re also the most honest man I know. You’ve never pretended to be anything you weren’t. You never tried to be perfect. You were always true to who you were and I admire you for that,” Harrison said fiercely looking Wes straight in the eye. “And you’re absolutely the best father that Gina could ever ask for and she looks at you like you are her biggest hero and you are. She could not have asked for a better father.”

“I’m pretty sure that Gideon might be slightly higher on the Best Dad scale than me,” Wes answered quietly, looking anywhere but at his brother because he honestly can’t handle the emotions that are welling up inside of him. Wes was never big on handling emotions. Emotions weren’t his department. Sarcasm, anger and lust were things he understood and he could handle those three. Anything else was foreign territory.

“No, you’re Gina’s world,” Harrison asserted and the sincerity in his voice made Wes want to crawl in a hole and die. “Seriously, I don’t understand where all of this is coming from, Wes. You’ve always been the cool one out of all of us. You were incredibly popular in school. Everyone always turns to you when they need help, myself included, and I don’t think there’s anyone in this town wouldn’t drop everything to jump in bed with you…still. Honestly, it’s ridiculous how many girls, guys and whatever would line up at the chance just to talk to you.”

“That’s because you would never give them the time of day and I would, Har. Every girl in high school used to look at you and you never noticed. How you managed to realize that Nasira was into you, I will never know…” Wes replied, shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, she made herself very clear,” Harrison replied with a heavy blush that piqued Wes’s curiosity. Perhaps he needed to pay his sister-in-law a visit and ply her with some good wine to get the story out of her. “And it’s not that I didn’t notice…I did…it’s just…”

Harrison trailed off and decided to finish his beer in a fashion that Wes could only describe as speed chugging. Wes waited patiently for him to finish and when Harrison slammed the glass down, Wes immediately took it and started to clean it instead of pouring another. Harrison gave him a dark look.

“You didn’t finish your story,” Wes explained. “And you’re not getting another beer until you tell me why you never hooked up with anyone outside of Nasira.”

“You really want to know?” Harrison looked down at his hands, color rising high in his cheeks. “The real reason is because whenever anyone looks at me they don’t see me. They see Dad. And one time, at party, I was kissing this girl and she called me Hook.”

Wes couldn’t help the disbelieving laugh that escaped his throat. He stepped back, his arms spread protectively across his stomach in hopes that he wouldn’t bust a gut from the force of his laughter. Harrison glowered at him, obviously not happy with his brother’s response to the confession.

“No! That didn’t happen!” Wes snickered, wiping the tears that had sprung from his eyes.

“It did,” Harrison responded grimly.

“Oh man, oh man.” Wes shook his head, trying to stave off his laughter. “Oh god, that…that’s both the most hilarious and the most disturbing thing I have ever heard in my life. I hope you discussed that trauma in therapy.”

“I did. Still do in fact,” Harrison responded. “Archie and I have discussed it much at length. I think he’s almost as disturbed by it as I am.”

“Jesus,” Wes shaking his head as he picked up a glass and poured his brother another beer. He deserved it after that big reveal. He’s not sure he would have survived if the same ordeal had happened to him. It explained so much about his older brother and why he had been so gun shy around women and so uncomfortable taking comments about his appearance. “I gotta know though. Who was it?”

“I’m never telling you that. It will literally change your entire perception of her and I don’t think I can do that to you because once I say it, you won’t be able to think of anything else,” Harrison replied.

“Do I even want to know what you lads are talking about?” Killian Jones asked his sons as he sat down at the bar next to Harrison, regarding both of his sons with an arched eyebrow. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

Harrison and Wes exchanged a look as they regarded their father. Wes couldn’t help letting out one last snicker and Harrison gave him murderous look over his pint glass, silently warning him that he wasn’t afraid to pick up his younger brother and toss him over his head WWE style. Wes took the message to heart. He knew better than to test Harrison who could probably bench press twice Wes’s weight.

“We were just discussing Harrison’s brat problem,” Wes said casually as he poured his father two fingers worth of rum and passed him the glass casually. “Sami and Kam aren’t happy about little baby Hana. They’re a bit jealous.”

“Ah. That’s normal. It will pass. Both of you didn’t take too kindly to new additions,” Killian responded as he took the glass, tipped his head in thanks and took a healthy drink. The old pirate smacked his lips a bit as the liquor went down his throat and Wes someday hoped to get on his father’s drinking level.

“Wait! Both of us? I thought Harrison was all excited for us,” Wes remarked, glancing at Harrison out of the corner of his eyes. Harrison looked confused by his father’s comments, thick eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement.

“He was excited about Beth because Beth was a girl and he didn’t have to share his toys like he did with you,” Killian corrected, fixing them both with a small smirk. “Harrison nearly threw a riot when we came home with you and refused to even look at you. He hid all of his toys for weeks because he thought you were going to steal them.”

“And right, I was,” Harrison muttered under this breath. “I never got the firetruck back.”

“Oh, fucking hell! You’re not bringing up the firetruck again! I honestly have no recollection of a firetruck! You cannot keep giving that up, Har! You’re thirty-one fucking years old!” Wes responded in annoyance, raking his hands through his long blonde hair in frustration.

“The firetruck?” Killian frowned for a moment. “You mean the one that Dave got you when you were five that made the siren noises and lit up? I hated that thing. I threw it out. That thing was a menace.”

“So I actually didn’t steal it?” Wes blurted out the question before he could even think. He cringed internally at how that question sounded. “So Harrison has been holding this over my head for years for no reason?”

“Not the firetruck no, but you did take a lot of things from Harrison and Harrison hid a lot of things from you. Your mother likes to call it call the Four Years Treasure Hunt whenever we talk about it. However, we’re getting off topic with this firetruck nonsense,” their father remarked, giving them both pointed look over his glass. “The point is that it’s completely normal for kids to be jealous of new arrivals in the family and it’s your job as parents to remind them that new additions aren’t going to replace them or take their toys or whatever the issue is.”

“How do you suppose we do that, oh wise silver fox?” Wes asked with a raised eyebrow and Harrison nearly choked on his beer. He glared at Wes as he coughed, giving himself a thump on the chest.

Killian set his glass down and Wes watched as his eyebrow rose nearly to his hairline in response to the name that he had been given. His blue eyes darted between his sons as if he was trying to discern what exactly he had missed prior to his arrival to the bar. Half of Wes wanted to tell his father Harrison’s story just to see his reaction, the other half that desperately wanted to live to see Gina graduate from high school knew to refrain.

“I’m not going to even question where that came from,” Killian responded finally. “I’m going to stay on track here and just advise you to bloody talk to your children and let them know that they’re still special and have a place in the family. Maybe even find an activity to bond over. I would like to think I at least tried to bond with you lads.”

“You did. We just sucked at sword fighting,” Harrison responded with a casual shrug. “Though learning to sail was pretty cool growing up. I’m just hoping Beth doesn’t steal the Jolly before my kids are old enough to learn too. You did good, Dad. If I’m half the father you were, my kids will turn out alright.”

“Beth isn’t stealing the Jolly anytime soon. Beth also isn’t going anywhere anytime soon either so you can relax on that,” Killian replied cryptically. Harrison and Wes looked at each other in puzzlement over that statement, but when their father didn’t elaborate, they let it drop.

“Suck up. Thirty-one years old and you’re still sucking up to Dad,” Wes responded with an affectionate eye roll. There was no heat behind his words. “Though, all kidding aside, yeah. You did pretty okay considering the three hellions you were dealt. I mean Henry is the biggest success out of all of us, but I’m not sure he counts in this regard because he was what? Ten? When you met?”

“He counts and you’re all successes,” Killian responded in a tone that brokered no argument. He flourished it with an eye roll of his own and for a moment Wes considered that he might actually have inherited something from the old man. “Now, the lot of you need to stop focusing on the past and focus on your lives as present. Harrison, your wife just had a baby two weeks. Go home and be with them. Talk to your boys and tell them to that their sister isn’t going to replace them. If they don’t listen, send them my way and Grandpa will spoil them for a day. And you!”

He cut his eye towards Wes for a moment and gave him a grave expression. Wes felt a lecture coming and braced himself for it.

“Stop taking Friday night and weekend shifts at this shithole,” Killian said seriously. “You have a daughter now. You need to spend time with her or you’re going to miss everything. I know that you and Bobbi have brought Gideon into the fold for raising her, but she’s your kid, Wes. You need to step it up. Do I make myself clear, lads?”

Harrison and Wes shared a look for a moment before responding. It seemed parenting didn’t necessarily stop when your children were grown. “Yes, Captain.”

[kyukurator-blog]

DYSTOPIA NOW

In this politically inflamed, socially mediated era, large groups of people feel abandoned by society and their government. Alongside such alienation has come a spike in hate crimes triggered by the “fear” of people with different religious, ethnic and economic backgrounds. 

More a cry of rage than a real solution, the border wall between the US and Mexico has turned into an ideological litmus test. Ironically, the fact that the wall is actually out for bids seems to have only increased the anger and violence.

This week’s film, The Bad Batch, tracks people in a very near future who are cast out of American society and banished to a desert wasteland.

As they enter the wasteland a sign reads:

“Beyond this fence is no longer the territory of Texas. Hereafter no person within the territory beyond this fence is a resident of the United States of America or shall be acknowledged, recognized or governed by the laws and governing bodies therein. Good luck.”

 THE BAD BATCH (2017) 

Ana Lily Amirpour (A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night) directs The Bad Batch, a multi-genre mashup of slasher-meets-horror-meets-dystopia- meets-love story.

Leading the way is Arlen (Suki Waterhouse), an apparently wholesome individual who is tossed into the Mexican desert in the film’s opening scene: she is part of the “bad batch”, inferior citizenry who are no longer wanted in the U.S. After briefly wandering the arid flats, she is kidnapped and taken to an encampment called The Bridge, filled with bulked-up steroid abusers; in short order she is chained up and two of her limbs severed for food like other “bad batchers” who have shared the same fate.

Arlen escapes thanks to a Fisher King-style hobo wandering the wilderness (Jim Carrey), and ends up in a second camp, called Comfort– a place of equally metaphoric implications. Comfort houses the real outcasts – immigrants, the mentally ill, the disabled – but on first inspection at least, appears to have rough charm and some form of rubbing-along livability.

Comfort, however, is controlled by a comically sinister cult leader (Keanu Reeves), who urges the inhabitants to “follow the dream” in an excellent deadpan.

BOMBAY BEACH (2011)

“The harder you work, the richer you’ll die.” Maybe this single line justifies the price of admission to Bombay Beach, an eerily compelling documentary about lost souls in a lost place, made by the former music-video director Alma Har’el.

Bombay Beach is the name of a ruined town on the Salton Sea, a saline lake in the middle of Southern California’s Colorado Desert. It was a smart vacation resort in the 1950s and 1960s, but abandoned when the water level rose. Now its seedy chalets and trailers are homes for America’s most needy, like a refugee holding camp for the poor, surreally living in the fragments of a forgotten dream of leisure and prosperity.

Har’el tells the story of three of these marginal souls, and does so with compassion and insight. One man had been arrested just after 9/11 on charges of maintaining what appeared to be a huge weapons and ammo dump in this wilderness. He says he’s no militia extremist, just a regular guy with an American affection for guns. Now he’s out of prison, and his son is addicted to Ritalin and other prescription medication.

An elegant oldster, like a character from a David Lynch movie, makes a living buying discount cigarettes from Native American reservations and selling them at a profit to his neighbors.

A young African-American boy has a future ahead of him with a possible football scholarship to college.

All these lives are recounted with flair and an eye for an exotic tale. It’s a rich slice of Americana, and there’s a great soundtrack from musicians including Bob Dylan.

          MAD MAX: THE ROAD WARRIOR (1981) 

Director George Miller’s follow-up to his own 1979 hit Mad Max is proof that not all sequels are inferior. If anything, this brutal sci-fi action film is even more intense and exciting than its predecessor, although the state of its post-apocalyptic world has only become worse.

Several years after the deaths of his wife and child, Max (Mel Gibson) has become an alienated nomad, wandering an Australian outback that has fallen into tribal warfare conducted from scattered armed camps.

After a road battle with psychotic villain Wez (Vernon Wells), Max meets up with the odd Gyro Captain (Bruce Spence), who takes him to the camp of a sympathetic group led by Pappagallo (Mike Preston). Since Pappagallo’s people are camped at a refinery, Max plans to take their oil — more precious than gold in this world — but eventually joins them to fight a band of marauders led by the evil Humungus (Kjell Nilsson).

The striking climax features a heart-pounding chase scene involving an oil tanker-truck and a frenzied rush for the coast, with Humungus and his forces in hot pursuit. Nilsson makes a scary villain, with huge muscles and a sinister pre-Jason hockey mask, edited at breakneck pace and staged with manic fury by Miller and stunt coordinator Max Aspin.

            TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE (1974) 

Tobe Hooper’s film, made over 40 years ago, shocked the nation and gave birth to a new form of horror. The film’s release was troubled and there was increasing pressure to censor or ban the film but it has stood the test of time to become an iconic landmark.

When Sally (Marilyn Burns) hears that her grandfather’s grave may have been vandalized, she and her paraplegic brother, Franklin (Paul A. Partain), set out with their friends to investigate.

After a detour to their family’s old farmhouse, they discover a group of crazed, murderous outcasts living next door who also like to dabble in cannibalism. When the group is attacked one by one by the chainsaw-wielding Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen), who wears a mask of human skin, the survivors must do everything they can to escape.

This film never fails to terrify.

             CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST (1985)

Ruggero Deodato’s film was banned and heavily censored across the world; the film’s director was even arrested on its release and the print was seized.

Deodato’s pseudo-documentary follows the plight of four arrogant filmmakers who fly out to the Amazon, in order to film their documentary The Green Inferno, believing that the scenes they capture will buy them inevitable success.  They are never seen again.

The footage is recovered by Professor Harold Moore (Francesca Ciardi) who travels to the Amazon and finds the remains of the film crew along with their unseen footage.

The footage reveals their vile treatment of the South American tribe of cannibals who ultimately turned on them. Their brutal deaths at the hands of the tribe becomes the subject of their documentary.

                 SUSPIRIA (1977) 

Dario Argento’s 1977 slasher is arguably the artistic apex of the giallo movement, a horror genre he pioneered along with fellow Italians Mario Bava and Lucio Fulci. This film has become the entry-level key to unlocking the whole genre, featuring its trademark lush, hyperstylized, color-saturated visuals, lashings of gore, its undercurrent of lurid female eroticism and its magnificent score —in this case provided by rockers Goblin and Argento’s “Tenebre.”

The film follows an American ballerina (Jessica Harper) who transfers to a sinister German dance academy covertly run by a satanic coven of witches, including Dark Shadows star Joan Bennett. The mish-mash of languages and accents from the multi-national cast doesn’t matter much since the whole thing was post-dubbed anyway. But once you become attuned to the garishness of Argento’s work, Suspiria is undeniably creepy and haunting, tuning in to burgeoning female sexuailty as a metaphor for a transformation process that is unknowable.

A remake directed by Luca Guadagnino starring Chloe Moritz and Tilda Swinton is being released later this year.

      DYSTOPIA NOW was originally published on FollowTheThread