#maureen-corpse

[marzipanandminutiae]

I would like to humbly ask for your rant about ballgownification

MANY people asked and I shall deliver!

What is Ballgownification? Simply put, it's the idea that people nowadays will believe that ANY dress from before the the 1920s is a ball gown.

Things called "ball gowns" on the internet (the Met is a repeat offender, as you will see):

(1820s, Met Museum. There's debate about whether the notion of Short Sleeves = Only Formal existed back then, but long sleeves have been suitable for day or evening for ages. And if short sleeves weren't exclusively formal back then, there's no reason to assume sheer sleeves were either.)

(1880s, Met Museum. The 3/4 sleeves and low neckline suggest formal or semi-formal, but there is absolutely nothing to suggest that this is an Evening Only Dress)

(C. 1835, Met Museum. This one has NO excuses- those are long, opaque sleeves! Suitable for day OR evening!)

(c. 1900-1905, Museum of Fine Arts Boston. Like...WHY would you assume this is exclusively a ball gown and therefore worthy of the name?)

I've also seen references to "18th century ball gowns"- not a thing; they just had varying degrees of dress formality, not actual dedicated Ball GownsTM.

My theory for why all this happens is that we only wear things that look like their clothing- even casual clothing! -for formal events nowadays. So we assume it ALL must be formal, regardless of actual context. ...also the term "ball gown" sounds terribly Romantic, so we want everything to be that.

[samwinchestersister]

Drugs and Money - Billy Loomis x Prescott!Reader

PART ONE

SUMMARY: You were Sydney's twin sister, and you and Billy have an unusual, psychotic relationship. You discover the other side of him and decide to help out in your mother's murder. OR a bit of heteroerotic fun while covered in blood. WARNINGS: Gore + Blood, Organs and Violence, Minor character death A/N: Yall please ignore any mistakes this is my first real story on tumblr! I also don't know much about gutting humans but I did like 5 minutes of research on this 😭😭

WORD COUNT: 2067 ______________________________________________________________

Someone taught Billy to play chess a long time ago.

That someone had been his mother, twice as cunning as his father. Speed chess had been his favourite — a timer running down, a taste of adrenaline to get his brain thinking, scrambling to find his plan. That’s nothing compared to the rush of Stu’s hunting knife in his fingers. It’s light and thin, just like he likes it. This is enough to get the job done.

Blood is rushing in his ears, mouth is sour. He can feel his heartbeat in his head, fingers tightening and bracing for impact around the handle.

The fabric is pulled taut over his skin, a black drape which will keep his body concealed without interfering too much with his movement. You're wearing a costume just like this one, waiting for the moment he gives the signal.

There’s enough tension in the air to cut through with his knife.

Nancy Loomis was a bitch. But she'd also taught him the importance of strategy, of thinking ahead. Thankfully, Maureen Prescott wouldn’t be sober enough to keep up with her opponents.

He thumbs at the dial of his voice changer, crouched beneath a set of bushes at the far end of the Prescott household. You would know your mother’s house the best, meaning that you would run in first, Billy following her lead. You'd already done her part earlier that day, slipping in a cheap dose of crushed Doxylamine into the bottles of wine.

He would be waiting for Maurine in the back. Tomorrow, what’s left of her rotting corpse would be flashed on news channels across the state. “I'm Ready, You?”

He can hear you take a deep breath over the phone. Finally, you sigh. “Born ready.”

“Good.” He seals the shitty mask over his face, fastening the strap under his hair. He intends to enjoy this.

-

Motive is bullshit.

Every horror movie follows a script: some big-tit chick running away from a murderer turns into the world's fastest whodunnit. But the legendary ones -- the ones immortalized in the movies -- don't need a motive. Just ask Michael Myers, Freddy Kruger, or Jason Voorhees. Billy’s seen every horror flick there is to see, even the technically-illegal snuff films that are hard to find and even harder to stomach.

Maureen Prescott cries, begs, and pleads for her life as she dies. It’s a lot more than he expected from a bitch like her, and it’s a fun surprise that she’s aware enough to understand what’s going to happen to her. She was a fighter, which makes it all the more hilarious when he drags her outside by the arms.

He hears the thud as her head slams down with each step, small traces of blood leaking from where you had hit her with the wine bottle. There are no lights out here, no neighbours to hear her for a mile in each direction. A piece of glass glints up from her forehead, lodged in the skin deep enough to hurt. She’s conscious — just barely.

Her eyes drop before flickering back up, pupils darting around wildly, like prey. He's surprisingly still on his feet. It had taken the two of you to pin her down, and she managed to get in a good hit near his jaw during a scuffle in the kitchen. Fucking whore. He’ll make her regret it.

“Asshole!” Maureen yells through her drugged haze. There are tears in her eyes. She’s been keeping up her little screams for nearly ten minutes, crying for her daughters.

Like you would save her. He grins a little, amused. A foot in her ribs oughta shut her up. She makes a wheezing noise, gasping, “Where’s my daughter, you fucking bastard?”

He leans down. He found it a little funny at first, but she’s becoming a bit annoying. And he can’t leave her like that, can he? He swipes a small strand of hair from her forehead, dark brown decorated with reddish blood. The gloves are necessary, but he wishes he could feel her underneath his hands.

“Your daughter isn’t here to save you, Ms Prescott,” he whispers. She looks up at him, brown eyes blown wide. She looks almost exactly like you. “Now, Maureen, be good, and I’ll let her live.”

She doesn’t make a single noise after that.

You take care of the ropes, nimbly following the steps that Stu had taught you a week prior. Up, over, down, knot. You sling two of the hand-made restraints over the lowest branch of an oak tree, just a couple feet off the ground. It’s a makeshift cross, a perfect place to put up your mom on display.

Billy does most of the grunt work, shoving Maureen’s body up till her wrists are in the restraints, a heavy boulder carrying her weight. God, what a fucking sight. He can’t wait to carve her the fuck open. Poetic justice for what Maureen did to his family. She'd die screaming for her sins.

He takes off the mask, relishing the look on dear old Prescott’s face when you do the same. She doesn’t quite grasp it yet, maybe trying to reel from the shock, as she takes in the sight of her you. Nothing could’ve prepared her for this. This is fucking hilarious.

He remembers the day he realized his mother was leaving, the day she had the argument with Hank Loomis about the other woman. He wonders if his face looked similar to hers right now.

You get to finish her off.

You shove the tip of the knife against the column of your mother’s throat, watching as it moves up and down. Maureen doesn’t dare to breathe. Billy has to crack a grin at that — it’s pathetic watching her squirm. Your grip is determined. You steady it in your fingers, before sweeping it over the jugular in a wide arc.

One thing they don’t show you in the movies is the gore. No matter how much they show you on screen, you’ll never quite understand how much blood a human body can have until you see it right in front of you. It doesn’t just drip, it fucking fountains. There’s less than a minute to react before it soaks them completely, landing on the grass, their costumes, and their faces.

Drops of it decorate his tongue, and he swallows the bitter taste of iron down. There’s some of it on his eyelids, his face, his arms. You're gonna get away with this, scott-fucking-free. He nearly fucking kisses you there, right and then, with Maureen Prescott’s blood in their mouths.

Your mother’s corpse hangs like Jesus on a fucking cross, body distended from her head. Her spine and muscle keep her body attached, the oesophagus and thyroid peeking through. You cut clean through the first three main arteries, leaving the right side of her body mostly intact.

Well, not for long.

As soon as he’s wiped out the fluid from his eyes, he grabs the knife and shoves it straight into her groin. In the movies, the knife passes through muscle like it’s butter. In real life, it takes almost all of his strength to get it in there. It catches on layers of skin and muscle, and it might’ve been a little rougher than nescessary, but it’s not deep enough to damage organs. Next comes the hard part. Billy’s a natural with a knife, but it takes a certain type of willpower to gut something — or someone. He aims the knife upwards and moves up to the sternum, tearing away at clothes and careful not to touch the abdominal lining.

Everything is so red inside of her.

How many men has she fucked? How many people have she let in, and how many families had Maureen torn apart? He jerks back in disgust.

He finds the windpipe, clutching it between two fingers and sawing it open with a little bit of difficulty. It’s so heavy, heavier than he’d expected. You catches your mom's intestines in her fingers, slippery and long, between her arms, looking as disgusted as Billy felt. Serves that cocksucking whore right. It needed to be done.

Just one less piece of shit in Woodsboro.

-

“Strip, babe,” Billy groans, sweeping off his own tee shirt in one quick go. His socks and shoes were the first to go, nestled in the kitchen skink, where the blood was being washed off. You climbed out of your tank top, leaving only a bra and tiny shorts. Your skin was perfect, streaks of red peppering your entire body.

God, he wonders what you taste like underneath all of that. He’ll have to wait to find out till another day. He climbs out of his jeans quickly, leaving himself only in blood-stained boxers.

They’d really fucking done that.

Once you finished cleaning yourselves up, you would call the police, and give them a couple minutes' head start. You would stay home, and Billy would return to the Loomis household before midnight.

Stu would take care of the alibi: You and Billy would’ve come over to the Macher household for a movie night. Thankfully, Stu’s household was mostly empty at all times, which meant no witnesses. Nick Prescott would be out of town by eight, and around ten, Billy would drive you home before getting himself back to the Loomis house. You would come home to find your mother’s dead body hanging from a tree, and you would immediately call 911 in a panic. Sydney, who was sleeping over at Tatum's would be driven to the Prescott house by Dewey.

He never expected this plan to flow so smoothly.

The two of you step into the upstairs shower together, hands pulling at what they could reach. Something fills up his chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. He grabs you as quickly as possible, spinning you around in the bathroom until your back hit the tiled wall.

"Someone's handsy," you grin, slow and relaxed. You feel too good to be in a rush. "Assault's a crime, y'know."

"You gonna arrest me?" Billy asks, low and suave. Something simmers in his stomach. He's fucked around with girls before -- Christina, Sydney, and a handful of others he doesn't remember. But it's never felt this way with anyone but you.

Your eyes rake him down. "In your dreams.

You were so close. A couple of centimetres would close the gap. Your eyes are blown wide, a splatter of drying blood trailing across your nose. Your hair cascades down your shoulders. Steam from the hot shower beads against your skin. Billy wants to drag his tongue across it, taste you on his teeth. Water covers you both, clouding his vision.

He leans down, hair flapping down to his eyes. Maybe it's reflex that causes you to swipe it away, fingers rolling over his warm skin. Your fingers clasp his cheeks, pulling him close enough for your noses to touch.

His eyes are wide open. His mouth is parted in a little gasp. You close your eyes and plunge in, lips fitting around his like you were made for each other. He doesn’t move, frozen in shock, before he starts kissing you back in earnest. It’s a weird angle, his lips are dry, and you're inexperienced at best. And yet, everything feels so fucking perfect that you can't bring yourself to care.

His hands are in your hair, on your throat, against your collarbone. He explores what he can, you do the same — cheeks, jaw, base of his neck. His fingers find your jugular, the place where you slit open Maureen. He could dig his fingers in there right now, feel the veins shift and tremble underneath the pressure. Let it break open. Feel as the blood pulses through his fingers.

You look up at him. It’s always been like this between the two of you — not needing words. He already knows what you mean.

"Billy," you whisper. "Fuck."

"Fuck," he agrees, before he tangles his hands back in your hair and forces his lips against yours.

[sharpth1ng]

SNEAK PEAK PLS 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🥺

Okk I've already given y'all a little taste of the prologue so some of this might be familiar but I'm giving you a little more.

Spoilers under the cut!

Billy Loomis doesn’t trust a lot of people. 

He doesn’t trust the girl who sits next to him in history, or his teachers or the family across the street. He’s never trusted the people he calls his friends, never trusted his ex-girlfriend, and he definitely doesn’t trust his dad. He loves his mom, he really does. But he doesn’t trust her. For some reason he thinks he trusts Stu, but under no circumstances does he trust himself. 

That’s what makes Stu dangerous.

He’s not sure when he realized he was untrustworthy, because it definitely wasn’t the first time. Back then he had no idea what was coming, back then he only had a best friend that he thought about a little too much, so it was easy to tell himself to stop and it was just as easy to decide it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he didn’t. He could tell himself it was as late as the first time Stu fucked him or as early as the first time he fucked Stu, but the moment he considers it he knows it's not true. It wasn’t even their first kiss, right next to Maureen's corpse. It wasn’t any one moment it was millions of them, amalgamated into this great, heaving mass of tiny indulgences granted and promises broken. 

He used to think he was controlled, just because he was trying so hard to control himself. He knows better now. He can’t trust himself to stick to the plan or follow his own stupid rule, can’t even trust himself not to turn into a pathetic fucking mess when things go wrong.

Billy woke up weeks before Stu, but he wasn’t really awake until Stu opened his eye. 

It wasn’t until that moment, until that paradoxically warm blue gaze was directed at him that he realized he didn’t know how to proceed if Stu was awake.

[bracketsoffear]

Maureen Miller (TAZ: Balance) "I saw beyond the omniverse

far past the places we should see

but for my vision I was cursed

torn from my home and family

lost to my Crystal Kingdom"

"Maureen was a scientist who attempted to view the entirety of the planar system simultaneously, but the knowledge of what she saw destroyed her mind and killed her. Even her ghost was not immune to the cosmic madness that the vision imposed on her, though she was able to suppress it for brief periods."

Jadis (Kill Six Billion Demons) "Jadis was born into a family of philosopher royalty who saw the Shape of the Universe as an experiment to study and dissect; they wasted ten generations in their efforts to witness the Shape (something that boiled a goddess’ eyes to see) and obtain all the secrets of Creation, a task she was prophecised to complete. She successfully saw the Shape, but it proved to be a thing beyond mortal ken and Jadis was shattered in both mind and body. She now exists inside a block of glass, a decaying, unmoving corpse, whispering prophecies with her perfect, terrible knowledge and worshipped by a cult devoted to recording and intepreting her whispers (and occasionally mis-interpreting them) while keeping their God-Queen alive. Book 5 demonstrates that, like the author has said, “Jadis knows the most, in fact. Of anyone. Ever”…and it has utterly destroyed her. Her perfect knowledge left her a deeply jaded, nihilistic woman who feels her actions, choices, and even her own identity (and everyone else's) are rendered completely moot when compared to the full shape of the universe. As someone who is ignorant of nothing, Jadis' limits are absolute and she is incapable of anything she hasn't already predicted will happen. She can't choose to do anything, because her decisions and their outcomes are already known to her. The alt text and some of her lines in her section of Breaker of Infinites discuss how if you can see everything, anything in it just becomes meaningless, unidentifiable noise in the infinite detail of it all: “When you see everything, there’s only one color left.” Jadis straight-up tells Allison that she, Jadis, does not exist in any meaningful sense because she can't tell where the lines between the Shape of the Universe and even her own mind are anymore. Consequently, Jadis tries to convince Allison to stop her mission to stop the destruction of the multiverse because she’s convinced that fighting is futile and meaningless in the end, so she should surrender instead of choosing more suffering. She takes Allison to see the machine that showed her the Shape, tells her the exact time from then she will die, comments on a personal detail of Allison’s past, and says what she’s doing before she does it (to make it creepier, her predictions were in the alt text several pages before). She then shows Allison the Shape and gives her a breaking speech to try and convince her to give up, and eventually talks Allison into accepting futility for months before she gets her shit together. Allison eventually realizes that Jadis is unable to change or recover from the traumas of her past because she no longer has a past - her perfect knowledge of everything that ever is, was, and will be means that she is constantly, continually reliving the complete and total despair that hit her when she saw the Shape and realized the futility of everything, and will do so for as long as she exists. Jadis wanted to know, believing that she could use her wisdom for the greater good, but the horrible knowledge she gained by seeing literally everything ever destroyed her so completely that she cannot comprehend being a person or making choices anymore--she has thus trapped herself in nihilistic certainty that she knows what’s going to happen and therefore nothing matters, and she wants to impress that mindset onto the only person she can even share her omniscience with anymore."

[stewyonmolly]

FRANKIE what are your fav iasip episodes, quickly

omg sorry for the delay i was working :^( but here r some (very brief list) i alwaysss go back to

2.3 dennis and dee go on welfare

3.1 the gang find a dumpster baby

3.2 the gang gets invincible

3.15 the gang dances their asses off

4.1 mac and dennis: manhunters

4.4 mac’s banging the waitress

4.7 who pooped the bed?

4.10 sweet dee has a heart attack

4.13 the nightman cometh

5.4 the gang gives frank an intervention

5.9 mac and dennis break up

5.10 the DENNIS system

5.12 the gang reignites the rivalry

6.5 mac and charlie: white trash

6.7 who got dee pregnant

6.10 charlie kelly: king of the rats

7.2 the gang goes to the jersey shore

7.3 frank reynolds’s little beauties

7.6 the storm of the century

7.7 chardee macdennis: the game of games

7.12-13 the high school reunion parts 1&2

8.3 the maureen ponderosa wedding massacre

8.9 the gang dines out

9.1 the gang broke dee

9.7 the gang gets quarantined

10.1 the gang beats boggs

10.4 charlie work (possibly the best episode)

11.5 mac and dennis move to the suburbs

13.8 charlie’s home alone (also possibly the best episode)

13.10 mac finds his pride

15.8 the gang carries a corpse up a mountain

16.2 frank shoots every member of the gang

[trashno0dle]

so now that ao3 is back from the war i was finally able to post the fic i've been working on. so if you're a fan of scream, murder girls and stuilly (silly) then consider checking this out!! it's going to be a full rewrite of the first scream movie but with a twist, and that twist role swap :)

(it's pretty easy to guess which main characters are swapped here)

Summary:

Billy Loomis was sixteen- going on seventeen years old when his parents divorced and his mother left, leaving him mostly alone in a world that couldn't understand him. Feeling broken beyond repair, he tried to carry on as normal, but when his hometown descends into chaos in the wake of a series of horrific murders, he comes to realize things will be anything but normal.

Sidney Prescott was sixteen years old when she stood before the corpse of her mother's killer. Blood dripping down her front, a red glistening knife clasped firmly in one hand and a plastic mask in the other, with a smile on her lips.

[sneak peak below the cut]

Sidney Prescott was sixteen years old when her mother was killed.

Sixteen years old when her life changed forever, when her father lost everything including himself and when the town of Woodsboro, California was shaken by a horrific murder. There had been a lot of speculation as to why the murderer had targeted her, why whoever had killed her snapped in the first place. But the most important questions of all, one that would proceed to keep many up at night, would the killer strike again? And who would be next? It was a case that tore the entire community apart, leaving them rightfully paranoid and on edge and with so many burning questions. No one got answers to them of course, for no one knows how a killer's mind works, only the killer themselves. 

The murderer was never found. No, they were good at hiding their tracks. They'd done what they pleased and were careful enough to make sure nobody knew. Nobody did. Nobody suspected a thing and after weeks without any leads, the case became a cold one, the murder of Maureen Prescott was left to collect dust as the days ticked on, there was still nothing.

Months later, a man by the name of Cotton Weary was found dead in his home, blood pooling around him, a gash in his throat and a knife still in his hand. The wound appeared to be self-inflicted. Although they were suspicious that the man's death was coincidentally close to the murder that had shocked the town just a few months before, the officers couldn't trace him back to her at all. There was no evidence to support the two had ever known each other, nothing that tied Cotton Weary to Maureen Prescott together and so his death was ruled simply as a suicide and forgotten about just as quickly.

Nobody thought much of it. People got sad sometimes, lost, and in some cases they couldn't get any help for it. No one could ever imagine there was something else, a darker truth lurking in the shadows. Because nobody could understand how greatly a tragic loss could affect someone, could drive them to do unspeakable things in order to quench the desperate thirst for revenge, their darkest desire. Nobody except for she who had felt it all.

Sidney Prescott was sixteen years old when she stood before the corpse of her mother's killer. Blood dripping down her front, a red glistening knife clasped firmly in one hand and a plastic mask in the other, with a smile on her lips.

[hothotpot]

tag / dash game!

A person's favorite color, favorite animal, and favorite flavor of ice cream can say a lot about them when considering the answers as a whole. Tag some friends and get a sense of who they are! :)

Favorite color: to look at/decorate with: green. to wear: black.

Favorite animal: other than my small furry children (cats), fox or crow!

Favorite ice cream: really depends on my mood, but probably mint chocolate chip would be my longest standing "favorite"

Tagged by: @maureen-corpse

Tagging: @sweeteatercat @epicqtefail @incomprehensible-phasmid, and anyone else who wants to play! :)

[garden-ghoul]

happy gushiwensday thursday!! We couldn’t resist taking a closer look at a Li He from Laurence’s drafts. Here’s “Five Moving Recitations---Poem 3.”

EXT: ZHONGNAN MOUNTAINS. HOW AWFUL!--- RAIN CONDENSED FROM CORPSE AIRS FALLS OVER EMPTY GRASSLAND. EXT: CHANG'AN, MIDNIGHT, AUTUMN A WIND DRIVES UNNUMBERED PEOPLE BEFORE IT TOWARD THE GRAVE ALONG A NARROW PATH, BLURRED, HUDDLED IN THE YELLOW DUSK WHILE DRAUGHTS CURL THROUGH THE BLUEBLACK OAKS. EXT: THE MOON (HIGH ZENITH) CASTS ITS IMAGE ON THE MOUNTAIN---A PALE DAWN. PHOSPHORESCENT FIRES WELCOME NEWCOMERS TO THE LAST GRAVE LIKE CHURNING FIREFLIES.

original text and notes under the cut.

感讽五首·其三

南山何其悲，鬼雨洒空草。 长安夜半秋，风前几人老。 低迷黄昏径，袅袅青栎道。 月午树无影，一山唯白晓。 漆炬迎新人，幽圹萤扰扰。

The reason for this format, which is intended to evoke setting directions for a play or film (but which Laurence says reminds them of the Disco Elysium narrators) is that I originally read 讽 as “satire.” So I wanted to be a little irreverent and weird. It’s freaking Li He!

rain condensed from corpse airs --- it actually reads 鬼雨 ghost rain, but the Gushiwen annotations say that this is rain that falls because of the bad smell of bodies, and I couldn’t resist getting a little, you know, ghoulish.

a wind drives... the grave --- okay, it actually says “old age” probably but I just strongly get the sense that the wind is time and time is death and death is wind, so.

blurred, huddled --- two different translations of 低迷, which can be a blurred landscape or an emotional/economic slump

yellow dusk --- this is actually a binome for regular dusk but how am I supposed to leave OUT colors that are in there?!

draughts curl --- excellent turn of phrase here; the line is 袅袅青栎道 graceful graceful green/blue/black oak road. But 袅袅 specifically means “rising in spirals”! It could refer to the branches of the oaks, which, like, oaks DO do that. But I like bringing back the wind, weaving between everything on the way to oblivion.

high zenith --- “noon” would be much snappier but moon noon is too funny and silly ::(

casts its image --- I’m intentionally misreading this, lol. 樹立 is intended to be read as “trees stand,” not as the binome “set up/establish.” So properly (as in Laurence’s translation!) this would be “trees upright shadow,” which to me evokes the weird no-shadow time when the light source is directly overhead. I have instead read 影 as image or reflection, meaning that the moon is sort of propagating itself or turning other things into reflections of it. But also, the idea of casting a shadow that brightens something like the sky before dawn is fucking haunting.

phosphorescent fires --- reads 漆炬 painted torches. Maureen Robertson seems to have read them as maybe stone lamps, but the fact that they’re compared to fireflies makes me like Gushiwen’s interpretation better, that they’re foxfires (painted = of an unusual color?).

last grave --- reads 幽壙 remote tomb. I wanted to suggest that the tomb is The Proverbial Grave and I like “last” as an indicator of remoteness.

churning fireflies --- the fireflies are 擾擾, “disturb-disturb.” Could be read as just sort of flurrying or swirling, but 擾 is often read as like “trouble” or “harass” so I wanted to add some uneasiness.

[malaisequotes]

“Don’t search for that which is not there; clues, corpses, for everything has been given up as offering to a goddess: To the Devourer of Excrement.”

Memorandum on Tlatelolco by Rosario Castellanos, translated by Maureen Ahern

[marzipanandminutiae]

@maureen-corpse Guillermo Del Toro movie with a sexy forklift played by Doug Jones

now you won't forget

[mouseratz]

batcat is literally like Dennis and Maureen ponderosa before she dies like their crazy weird hookups that dennis hates but keeps doing anyway where she like grooms him like a cat and her corpse is found full of human hair. yeah . batcat is getting up to that sorry

[chill-byers]

I was tagged by @ronanlynchbf to list 8 tv shows to get to know me. Thank you for tagging me! Here’s my list:

1. Stranger Things

2. The Get Down

3. Community

4. Psych

5. Freaks and Geeks

6. Parks and Recreation

7. What We Do in the Shadows

8. That Mitchell and Webb Look

I will tag @toedenandbackagain @maureen-corpse @cobra-bubbles @counterdestroyer @dueliz and @toburnup

[crimechannels]

By • Olalekan Fagbade It was Vigilante member that was beheaded, not officer in fresh attack attack – Police explain The Abia State Police Command has debunked reports an officer was killed in attack by hoodlums on Thursday. The Command, however, confirmed that a security personnel of Abia State Vigilante, identified as Obinna Ndukwe, popularly known as Socket, was killed and beheaded by the attackers. In a press release signed by ASP Maureen Chinaka, the Police Public Relations Officer, PPRO, or the Abia State Police Commissioner, she said the incident happened at about 15:50 hours, at Isiahia Village in Umuojima, Osisioma. While saying the corpse of the victim has been evacuated and deposited in a mortuary, she noted that Socket was a member of Abia State Vigilante Service who often collaborated with the Police. It added that police officers successfully recovered the unregistered vehicle used by the hoodlums during the attack, adding that efforts are underway to apprehend the perpetrators. The release read, “Yesterday 26/10/2023 At about 15:50 hrs, Abia State Police officers stationed at OSISIOMA Police headquarters received credible information concerning an attack on a group of security personnel in Isiahia village, Umuojima, OSISIOMA. The attacked team included one policeman, one special constabulary personnel, and three vigilante men. “Upon arrival, an unregistered Sienna bus and a headless corpse were discovered. Through investigation, the deceased was identified as Obinna Ndukwe, also known as Socket, who was a member of the Abia State vigilante and often collaborated with the Police. The body of the deceased has been evacuated and deposited in the mortuary. “We would want to clarify that no police official was killed during the incident. Furthermore, our officers successfully recovered the vehicle used by the hoodlums in the attack and efforts are underway to apprehend the perpetrators. “We urge all citizens to remain calm and security-conscious while going about their activities.” #Itwasvigilantememberthatwasbeheadednotpoliceofficer #policeexplain

[bardic-tales]

5.1.23

Have you ever had so much coffee that your body feels like its humming? That's what it is like for me this morning. I just need to be able to wake up.

Author’s commentary:

I am still doing the wordcrawl to finish Caven. I think I need about 100 words, and then, I will put it away for two weeks before I write my second draft.

I'm excited to finish this. While it seems silly, I will say that I haven't finished anything really original since my doctor had insisted that I make changes in my life to lessen the stress I felt.

Nothing really inspired the closing chapter of Caven. I originally had a closing idea for the final act, but I feel like this makes sense. I like to think that Ellen took over and wanted this ending for her story.

Will I write about Ellen Brannigan in the future? Most likely, no. She is the type of character that is one and done with. She is the protagonist of Caven, and that will most likely be it. The reason? Thrillers are outside of my genre. While it was fun writing, I am a dark fantasy writer through and through.

Snippet: (tw: mentions of death.)

As always, this is my trash draft. There will be grammar issues and sometimes incorrect grammar. It is unpolished.

As she looked to the left, a dirt path broke off of the main path through the forest, traveled down the embankment to the river. A crop of trees rested on top of a rolling hill looking down upon the stream.

She couldn’t help but think that Donagh and Maureen themselves were showing her the location to his corpse. Ellen never really believed in the supernatural before, but she was willing to believe anything if it meant finding her son. She only wanted to bring him home, to give her girlfriend back their child, and perhaps, she would pay for her crime.

Crime? She thought she shouldn’t feel sorry for Maeve. There were many children who most likely tried to escape the woman: her son, his friend, and even her wife. Did their killer deserve compassion? Did their murder deserve to be remembered for the person she was rather than the murderer she had become?

It was easy for the scales to tip. Ellen had thrown up after she drew her knife across Maeve’s neck, but she still ended a life of someone else. Guilt colored her heart. Ellen tried to tell herself that it was her conscious trying to understand what she had done.

That was what separated her and Maeve. Ms. Flanigan destroyed lives and would continue to provide trauma for the families. She was a force that nature unleashed upon the world. Ellen was like that terrible execution who had a change of heart. She should have called Shannon and told him what had happen — or at least tell him where he would find her and her son’s corpse, but she couldn’t bring herself to have a stranger find Donagh.

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[hello-delicious-tea]

maureen-corpse replied to your quote “The idea of becoming a bartender delights me. I’m great at flirting...”

I wish I had half the self-confidence, earned or imagined, of your student

He sat down next to me and told me yesterday morning that he’s well aware that he’s fucking up, and he’s doing it on purpose, because he wishes to learn from his mistakes. Even if he knows they are mistakes going in.

???

[bigmammallama5]

maureen-corpse replied to your post “However, here is some very good news. The Democrats won back the...”

Holy shit, the supermajority is gone? I don't even know how to react to that because I've lived in veto-proof hell for so long!

yeah its over i started crying so fucking fast holy shit like

our governor?? he can actually do his job now and not have the gop screaming bipartisan over things that shouldnt be???? god