#pretentious cannibal noises

[flannelepicurean]

Sir, This is an Applebee's

Hannibal and Will have a toxic tradition of going out to dinner on the Mizumono anniversary. Will makes Hannibal take him to a terrible chain restaurant and pay for microwaved, mass-produced food with stupid theme names. But Hannibal does stupid monologues through the whole evening. Like...

Hannibal, extremely plaid: Does not the humble pollinator, in his industry, among the bright blossoms, bless us by his vigor with the fruit of the divine? With the sweetness of light?

Server, weirded out: Uh...welcome to Applebee's?

Hannibal, continuing in paisley: Ah, yes. The bee does indeed bring forth the apple as part of the sacred dance; and truly, we have been in paradise together. Tell me, Will; had we not wandered in the garden, sampled the forbidden fruit...would we be here in the bower of apples, tonight?

Will, bitterly: It's our anniversary.

Server, brightly: Oh! Congratu--

Will: no

Server: ...menus...

Hannibal, pinstripes: The Ouroboros is traditionally depicted consuming his own tail; however, Celtic imagery incorporating knotwork brings to mind--

Will: YOU STABBED ME.

Hannibal, plaintive: Because my heart was broken.

Will: ...I'm gonna get a well-done steak and put ketchup all over it.

Hannibal, sobbing: Wilhelm, you're no Teddy Graham, you're a monster.

Server: ...need a few more minutes...?

Will: HE WANTS THE LOADED POTATO BITES.

Hannibal, playing Pagliacci on his phone: The potato, or pomme de terre in French, the "earth apple"...

[human-space-heater]

incorrect quote generator (Spiderman: across the spider verse pt2 feat. spider noir, spider ham, and peni parker)

Miles : Fight me! Hobie , standing behind them and holding a knife: *mouths* Do not.

Gwen: Are you a masochist or a sadist? Pavitr , deadpan: I’m a Taurus.

Hobie : I have issues. Miguel : Finally, you admit it! The first step to redemption is accept- Hobie : With you.

Miles : *speaking Spanish* Gwen : I know, I know. Hobie: You speak Spanish? Gwen : No. I just know the phrase, 'this is all your fault' in every language Miles  speaks.

Gwen : Can I get a waffle? Jess and Miguel : *fighting and yelling at each other* Gwen : Can I p l e a s e get a waffle?

Pavir : *eating a cinnamon roll* Gwen: Cannibalism. Pavir : *confused chewing noises*

Spider noir : *holding a salt packet* It’s just a little sodium chloride. Peni : Actually Spider noir , it’s salt. Spider noir : That’s what I said, sodium chloride. Peni : Uh Spider noir , that would be salt. Peni : *takes salt packer from Spider noir * This is iodized table salt, which in addition to sodium chloride contains anti-caking agents and potassium iodate, which is added to prevent iodine deficiency. So not only are you being overly pretentious by insisting on using scientific terminology for everyday items, you are factually wrong. Your arrogance is your downfall, you annoying little shit.

Spider noir : If you water water, it grows. Peni Parker: ...What. Spider Ham : They've got a point.

[mantistog]

I was wondering if you can take a request for Yandere! Hannibal x reader x Yandere! Will Graham where the reader is very cold hearted so she always rejects Hannibal and Will and so they start killing for her like courtship and they eventually kidnap her and tell her they killed those people for her? Sorry if it’s long and I love your writings keep up the good work!

Bit different than what you wrote, sorry lol. I often get caught up writing, although I hope you still like it. <3

_________________________________________________________

Yandere!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Yandere!Will Graham: Devotion

The first time you rejected them you had been dealing with a sizzling headache for most of the day. It was the kind of headache that spread through the top of your head to the bridge of your nose and to the edge of your neck, making your head heavy and unbearable. The kind of headache that renders you desperate for relief and makes you question if life is even worth it at all. So to say you were irritable was an understatement. They could not have chosen a worse time to try and court you with dinner and fake kindness. 

At first it seemed they had thought your coldness and rejection was a symptom of your vicious headache or your bad mood following it. In reality you were just not at all interested in being part of a weird three way relationship, much less their toxic and gross partnership. The only way to describe it was codependent. It seemed Hannibal loved when people needed him. Or maybe he liked the control that came with someone being under him and having complete control. He did seem like the control freak type. Will on the other hand seemed he needed someone to make him stable. Someone to just handle him, even when he can’t handle himself. 

You needed neither, and you definitely didn’t want it. No one needed to give you a role to make you feel worth something and you didn’t need to define yourself by anyone you chose to date. You were not interested in any aspect of their sick love. Maybe if you had told them that that day instead of telling them politely to fuck off, they would have understood. The next time they had asked you out, it was when you bumped into them by accident. What for you had forgotten, but you needed flowers. Maybe it was a funeral, or maybe it was one of your friends' birthdays. You had never been good with gifts, always giving people things you’d liked. The flower you had chosen was a large bouquet of sunflowers, a big beautiful one that went well with the season. Sunflowers were your favourite, too. When you had bumped into them you had accidentally let that slip, when Hannibal had asked what occasion called for sunflowers. He had always looked far too deep into everything, making him too pretentious for your liking. Who cared if the flower was wrong for the occasion, if it was pretty? 

Either way you had told them in exact words that whatever they were trying to invite you to was not going to happen, and you were not in any way interested in any of them. Hannibal had of course tried to goat you into coming for dinner as a ‘friend’. Will was less tactful, seeming rather distraught. You disagreed, your patience thin. You simply walked away without even a goodbye. A lot of your friends would call you cold, or mean. To you it just meant you didn’t lie or deal with peoples shit. You were okay with being called cold if it meant you didn’t have to bother with putting up fake courtesies. 

When the pictures of the body came to you a few months later, you had completely forgotten the interaction. They had seemed much less pushy in their pursuit and you had to some degree even forgotten they had even tried to court you. In some way, the body was beautiful. The way the skin seemed so pale, like porcelain, matched so well with the vibrant yellow of the flowers. The body wasn’t even the focus of the masterpiece, it was the canvas for which the sunflowers were painted. The body was perched on a set of antlers, and it made you think it must have been the chesapeake ripper. 

But the motive was so different. Violation, cannibalism and the act of murder was always what you saw on the crime scenes from him. But this was not anything violent in nature itself. There was barely any blood anywhere on the body, it looked barely touched. She was almost alive, if it was not for the paleness and cold of her skin. Some of it looked even blue. You wondered what Will would gather of the body, if he would come to the same conclusion as you. 

You were surprised when he claimed it to be a love proclamation, yet still insisted that it was the ripper. Will knew better than you, when it came to all this, so you didn’t bother arguing with him. He insisted something must have changed in the ripper's life. That he must have found someone or something worth his art. It seemed almost unlikely to you, that someone like the ripper could be possible of love. Jack seemed to agree with you, which at least put your mind at ease. 

It wasn’t long before the next body turned up, in the same state as the last. So well preserved it was eerie. The body was exactly the same as the last, but the sunflowers were backed by bouquets of flowers. Just like with the last body, you didn’t connect the dots. But you still briefly thought about how pretty it was. You loved all those flowers, and you had to stop yourself from letting that thought fester. It would be too morbid to find it beautiful. 

Bodies kept turning up like that, so different but all so similar too. And after the 4th one you started to notice a pattern of the things the bodies were adorned with and that it was all things you found nice. But the 5th drove it home, putting it just beyond a coincidence for you. Just a week before the body turned up you had an altercation with your neighbor about a noise complaint after you had some friends over. You were complaining about it for a week, the fact that you didn’t see him again didn’t even cross your mind. You were too busy being caught up in your own spite to notice his absence at all. Until you saw the pictures of his body. Unlike the almost artistic and beautiful vision portrayed through the previous bodies, this one was malicious and predatory like the other victims of the ripper. 

It was like the pictures snapped you back to reality. All those bodies, it was all too close to home. You hadn’t asked for this. All you had done was complain. You went home early that day, overcome with a sense of guilt. You stayed home the next day too, calling in sick. You kept going over who it could be in your life. Will had deemed the killing proclamations of love, yet you couldn’t find one person who had shown any kind of interest in you. That was until you remembered the rejections. The lead was so thin, that you honestly felt bad for even thinking about it, but it was quickly squashed when you thought about it further. You had always found Hannibal creepy and probably capable of murder. And Will was unstable to the point where you didn’t even question his capabilities. 

You went back to work as normal after that. You made sure not to say anything personal, or complain about anyone when Hannibal or Will came near you. It went pretty smooth, and while everything was laying dormant in their relationship and your mind, you focused on trying to come up with a plan to see if it was them. But as mundanity rolled back into your life, you started chatting with your coworkers the same as you always had. And you made a mistake. You hadn’t even noticed Will was in the room as your back faced the doorway of the breakroom talking about a guy you had met at your local cafe. You were interested in him. It wasn’t often you were, and you had just let it slip in excitement. You didn’t even notice until you got spooked by a cough behind you that he had been there the whole time, pouring coffee. You fretted going home that day, scared of what would happen.

You couldn’t remember exactly when you had fallen asleep, but you woke up feeling really tired and stiff, with the faintest of headaches growing in the back of your skull. Yet you felt nice, pulling the duvet closer to your face to try and put pressure on your head and alleviate some of the headache. The duvet was  soft, and it smelled faintly of manly cologne. A cologne that wasn’t yours. Suddenly the gears in your head turned, and you shot upright, looking around suspiciously. The room is unfamiliar to you, but at the end of the bed you see Will, asleep. He’s sitting on the floor, propped up on the bed with his hands reaching upwards towards you, his face down on the sheets. He looks almost cute, like that. You almost consider waking him, to talk to him about this, but you quickly decide not to. Could you even make it to the door without him waking?

You look over at the half open door, at the other side of the room from the bed. But before you can even calculate the chances of your escape the door opens further, creaking in the process and startling Will awake. Hannibal is looking at you with a smile, and your blood runs cold at how creepy and insincere it is. Will scrambles to stand up, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring up at you. His expression was so emotional, mixed with both pity and something akin to happiness. He looks like he is approaching one of his wild dogs, moving very slow and cautiously. 

“Why?” Is all you manage to ask, when in reality you probably had hundreds of questions you wanted to ask them. But you don’t manage to eliquate a good question. It prompts Hannibal to step into the room fully, and you can now see that he is whipping his hands with a small cloth, indicating he was probably making something in his kitchen, like he always did. He cocks his head confused and Will scoots himself closer again. “That’s a very broad question. You’re going to have to reconvey.” Hannibal says. Your mouth scrunches up as the fake smile appears back on his face. It’s obvious you’re displeased, and you can’t help but grow a bit hostile. 

“Why am I here? Why do you murder innocent people?  Why am I alive?” You snap, looking at them with pure anger. It feels good, to finally tell them off again. Hannibal's fake smile drops, and he opens his mouth to reply but Will is already sitting by you, grabbing your hands in his. You’re too stunned to say anything. “We did it for you, can’t you see?” He pleads. But no, you still don’t understand. You will never understand. All you can feel at this point is exasperation. “You’re crazy. Neither of you even know what love means.” 

Will smiles, bringing your hands closer to his face, despite you half heartedly pulling them away. He kisses your knuckles gently. 

“Breakfast is ready.” Hannibal says, as if everything is normal. As if you’re not kidnapped. As if you’re not the cause of over 5 dead people. 

As if you love them.

[grimowled]

"YES, THAT'S IT!"

he squeezed his date's hand enthusiastically, a bright expression on his strigine features and a toothless smile splitting his beak. being called 'birdy' was a novelty that made his dark chest flutter and pale cheeks dust with a light pink hue - there was something terribly intimate about blitz calling him that.

(oh, how he adored being called him pet names!)

"--although what you are describing is sushi - same cuisine, slightly different dish. sashimi is just the strips of fish, masterfully cut - no rice. I also like carpaccio, which is similar but the strips of fish are cut much thinner, and are slightly marinated."

all this talk of raw fish was reminding him that, beneath all the excitement and anticipation, he was hungry for more than just his darling imp; the prospect of actual food in his belly was one looked forward to, as that of eventually losing himself in blitzø's expert claws, even as the performers for the night started their numbers - it was all background noise fading to the back of his mind, his focus now on the yellow eyes that had taken over his good judgement so savagely.

he forced himself to tear his gaze away from his delicious imp and dropped it to the food menu, carefully scanning it for anything that could tickle less pretentious tastes.

"hmm. if you like snacks, how about some bite-sized starters, like these wagyu beef sliders, the baby teriyaki barbecue ribs or the crispy fried chicken wings? or perhaps the charcuterie board with focaccia to share-- without cheese for me, I ... ah, I can't digest it properly."

he looked oddly sheepish for a moment, revealing something very personal not many were privy to, and surprising himself with the admission.

(yes, even a goetia prince had weaknesses! )

"--or maybe I could simply offer myself up to you, my lovely hellion."

despite the offer made in jest and innuendo, there always was a more sinister undertone to the owl demon's remarks, as if the idea of sharing in each other's flesh or blood could be in the realm of possibilities; thankfully this wasn't cannibal town and he had more ... lasting, if not tasteful plans for his lover.

their drinks order arrived with an obsequious bow of the succubus server. he grasped at the stem of the tall glass with his talons, finding solace in the familiar motion of swirling the blood-red wine within; it felt slightly odd yet thrilling being there in public with his scandalous lover, and though he didn't care about being seen, he did briefly wonder how blitzø was currently feeling about it - if he was still bristling over being on a goetia's arm.

���That’s the little pieces of fish and shrimp and stuff? On top of rice?”

Blitzø recoils slightly thinking about it—it was never his favorite kind of sushi. He would eat it if it was in front of him, though.

“Never my favorite, but makes sense why you’d like it, birdy~”

Stolas’ reflecting of the question made him pause, taking a second to ponder his own answer before shrugging his leather-clad shoulders.

“Hard to say. I’ve got favorite snacks, but there’s not a ton of food I can just think of….one sec.”

Blitzø picks up his menu again, scanning the items for something familiar that he could point to. He didn’t often eat meals nicer or more fancy than takeout food—he’s more of a cook for survival kinda guy.

“Gotta be somethin’ on this over-hyped catalog that I’ll think looks good, right~?”

[morganbritton132]

Annie worries when Abigail doesn’t text her at all after a cryptic, “I have to go.” Dan convinces her to go to the Freds’ house.

“Seriously? Isn’t that like, obsessive?”

“No,” Dan shook his head. “If you got bad vibes than trust them. I told you, there’s something not right about those people. Abigail was really freaked out when I asked her.”

“Yeah, because you’re a freak, Dan. I just… Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

Annie never liked a lot of empty white space and that’s what Abigail’s house felt like. It felt like a place scrubbed clean, like there was something to hide behind the pop of color red door.

Inside was just was pale, as stark. It was doctor’s office of a place to live, and Annie would go crazy inside of it.

She walked up to the door and then away from it, and then back to it. She raised her hand to knock and then dropped it. She walked away, and then back, and told herself that she was crazy, and then she snuck around back.

She climbed the white painted fence and stepped through the flower garden, and found a window when nothing inside of it. She peaked in and found an unmade bed, clothes on the floor, a pair of scissors and she knew that this was Abigail’s room.

She knew that it was empty too.

Annie wasn’t skilled with opened windows, but she didn’t mind breaking her fake nails wedging them beneath the frame and pushing up. She stuck her head in and whispered, “Abs? Abigail?”

She got no answer.

She  wedged herself through the small frame and tried not to make a ton of noise dropping to her feet, and she tried to call out again without an answer. She went to the door and pressed her ear against it, hearing – music.

“Huh,” She said to herself, easing the door open. She was always breaking in, already crazy enough to do it. She might as well find Abigail. She liked to think that Abigail would find her daring and romantic, though she knew she wouldn’t.

At the end of a white hallway was another white hallway, and the music got louder, got choked, laughed like a melody. She heard, “You scared the hell out of me!”

“Yes, that was the plan,” a female voice said, sounding like it was smiling. “So, a little birdie told me that you got your copyright finalized today.”

“Was it the little birdie that went through my mail?”

“Maybe,” the redheaded chick from the shop was saying to the pretentious guy that doesn’t take dairy. Annie eased a little closer to stare at them. “Hannibal the Cannibal. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous.”

She kissed his cheek and he smiled, and it was sweet until – shit. Annie jumped back when an alarm went off. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. She was frozen, wide eyed and not breathing when Freddie and Frederick jumped off the couch. Freddie pulled a gun out of her purse, and then – “Who are you?”

“Um. Abigail’s friend?”

[donnerpartyofone]

21 Questions

Tagged by @getoutofmyhouse who had oddly similar answers to mine

Nickname: only the one I use here, that I gave myself--Claire Donner, which has to do with my famous love of cannibalism. Claire is my real first name, though.

Zodiac: I am so very cuspy. I was born at about a quarter to midnight on April 20, so I tend to relate to, and feel insulted by, the suppositions about Aries and Taurus equally. I’m one of those jerks who will tell you astrology is a bunch of hoo ha...and then drone on with my Many Esoteric Ideas about it, so I’ll just stop myself right here.

Height: 5’ nuthin is what I prefer to say...because saying I’m 5 and 3/4′ sounds a little like saying I’m 10 and a half years old.

Amount of sleep: It’s all fucked up. Until I got into my 30s I could, and would prefer to, sleep endlessly. Now I go to bed around 10 (depression), get up around 5 or 6 (being old), and for extra fun, I’ve developed this insomnia that often keeps me up from about 2am-5am. I try make the most of it by getting up, getting high, watching a movie or two, writing...basically just having a secret private day by myself. I’d really rather go back to just sleeping constantly though.

Last movie I saw: I saw GRETA in theaters tonight, which was ok. I guess I thought any Neil Jordan film would be headier than this, but watching Isabel Huppert just running around acting like an absolute maniac is a rare treat! My last video experience was RAW, which I put on to bother my husband right when we got home from the theater. (I think he liked it more than I originally did, to my surprise)

Last thing I googled: The correct spelling of Sylvia Likens’ last name. I’m obsessed with this type of crime where a group of people (usually a family and/or some of their friends and neighbors) fall into some kind of shared hysteria where they protractedly torture to death an acquaintance for no particular reason. Some times there’s an element of mystery as to why the victim didn’t leave while they were still able to, which suggests to me that the murdered person was just as much a victim of the groupthink as the perpetrators. Other example victims include Suzanne Capper, Vera Jo Reigle, and I think to some degree Sophie Lionnet, James Bulger, and Junko Furuta. (Also a crime they briefly discuss in the book Lords of Chaos, where several people murder a friend in their trailer, but I can’t remember it specifically enough to look up the names--the other last thing i tried to google) I keep thinking there should be a psychiatric and/or legal term for this kind of crime, but I’ve never heard one, so let me know if you got one!

Favorite musician: I have trouble with questions that involve ranking anything, so I’ll just say that right now I’m listening to a lot of old White Zombie. I didn’t know anything about their origins as an East Village noise band, and I’m fascinated by the stories about how apocalyptically miserable it was to be in that group. I’m increasingly obsessed with people who work their asses off doing something they barely even enjoy, for what must be borderline spiritual reasons.

Song stuck in my head: Nothing right this second, for which I am very grateful. There’s something awful in my brain that causes me to wake up with some maddening, babyish tune stuck in my head more often than not. It is most frequently the Ten Little Indians nursery rhyme. This is literally killing me.

Other blogs: @anhed-nia, which started as a dumping ground for long posts about mental illness, and turned into almost only movie writing. at some point there was just so much movie shit that i started to feel awkward about posting anything personal there again. i also got @getoffyrass which is a group blog, and a repository for images that make great drawing references. everyone is encouraged to post their drawings, too, although it is seldom used. i still like having it around, for when i have time to draw. my “real” drawing blog is @neveratendermoment but i don’t draw often enough anymore...

Do I get asks: i used to get tons! i really enjoy them, even the trolls to some degree. i must have seemed like more of a regular tumblr geek girl back in the day. also tumblr has just changed a lot since then. my blog was definitely a casualty of Best Stuff First, i think my follower count stopped dead forever right when that happened, and now that practically every single fucking thing on this entire site is either fandom shit or *discourse*, i really have nothing to offer tumblr anymore, anyway.

Blogs following: 1,057. 

Lucky numbers: 2! Also 5.

What I’m wearing: black wool long john pants from Chrome, and a white v neck teeshirt with the words BLACK MAYONNAISE on it in black Rocky Horror font. i live near the notoriously toxic Gowanus Canal, and “black mayonnaise” is the actual term used to describe what’s on the bottom of it, by the scientists who are trying to figure out what to do with it.

Dream trip: i am really excited by travel, it’s hard to pick. i’m hopefully making a dream trip soon though: my father’s mysterious finno-swedish family is from the åland islands, and my husband and i will be planning part of our honeymoon there, whenever that happens.

Dream Job: i think about this a lot, because the older i get, the more i object to the entire concept of having to work to live. i’m into the whole universal basic income thing. i’m at this point where i can barely stand to think about capitalism in any way--like i think about how the need for money is so mortally serious that there’s a lot of physical stuff in the world that only exists because someone was scared of starving, tons of useless products and packaging and factory byproducts and all kinds of fucking straight up garbage that was only invented due to the lethality of poorness. i would rather be left totally alone forever if possible. however, if i HAD to do something and i COULD do anything, it would probably be film criticism. this fantasy takes place in a world where people care so much about what i have to say that i can make a career, not only out of movie writing, but out of only writing about the specific movies i want to write about, referring to nothing other than my personal reactions.

Favorite food: i wish the answer weren’t just “cheese”, but it probably is. also mushrooms. anything cinnamon. i’m a pretty adventurous eater though. the most important thing for me is a variety of flavors and textures.

Languages: english. i took several years of italian in junior high-high school, and did nothing with it. i taught myself to read french pretty fluently, but i would fold right up if someone tried to speak to me. i learned a bunch of swedish on duolingo, shoulda kept it up. i’ll get back to it! i really regret never learning spanish though, so i’m easily torn on what to do with my time.

Play any instruments: clarinet in junior high/high school, also alto sax which i did not enjoy at all, a little guitar. i bought a used electric bass last year that i have really been enjoying, but i feel a lot of guilt around not playing enough. so much of it is just strength training. that’s probably what i like about it, though. also i got a lot of electronic music software and midi controllers and stuff...and then i realized that it could take me months to sort through the thousands of samples i have to program this stuff, and i only got so far into it before i started to get discouraged. i need to get back to it, it’s ridiculous to let that stuff lie around. this is a rare example of me wishing i knew someone local to play with, who could speed me along on how everything works.

Favorite songs: another one of these impossible questions! anybody who is even reading this can probably guess the answers from the handful of music posts i reblog over and over and over. the other night i got all hyperactive and forced my husband to drop everything and listen to “buffalo stance” by nene cherry, which i never ever get sick of. real top contenders for favorite song might be “Stand By the Jamms” by the klf, and this recording, which has gotten me through many difficult hours:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8k1HsF3EvY

https://www.forcedexposure.com/Catalog/sunray-sonic-boom-music-for-the-dreamachine-cd/STRAWB.003CD.html

Random fact: i’m sure i’m missing out on something really funny and cool, but for now it’s just the well-known fact that i read palms.

Describe yourself as aesthetic thing: man, how do i answer this without being totally pretentious? maybe nobody can! i’m coming up with something really hard to describe but it will be worth it. the other day i watched this insane, completely unnecessary movie about lorca and salvador dali (played by robert pattinson) as gay lovers. there’s a scene in it where lorca does that “pick a hand” thing to dali, and dali picks an empty hand. of course, they’re both poor students who couldn’t be buying any gifts, so they do this obnoxious pantomime where dali pretends lorca actually gave him something--but then it turns out that lorca really DOES have something. he opens his other hand and gives dali...SOMETHING. i don’t know what! they make such a big deal out of it, but what the hell? you see it for a second in this closeup, but it’s shot from like, behind and slightly underneath, and it is just unrecognizable. it’s sort of an orange blob? it’s probably meant to be a sculpture. but, i love the idea of doing the “pick a hand” thing to somebody, and the other person is just like...hey wait a minute, what the fuck even IS this?? 

it reminded me of one of the most amazing things anyone ever did at my school, bard college. this genius art student who I WISH I COULD NAME TO CREDIT HER did her senior project as this like...made up product. i saw them at the senior show, hanging off a spinner rack, like you’d see next to the register in the drug store. they were called Toilet Buddies. they were these plastic, brightly colored objects that looked like toys, but they didn’t have a familiar earthly shape, and because of the title, it was IMPOSSIBLE to imagine what to do with them. so, she gets the lipstick cam from the film department, and shoots this video of herself sneaking some Toilet Buddies into Walmart. then she takes them to the register and BUYS THEM--the baffled cashier looks for them for a while, and eventually just rings them up as a general grocery or something. then in part 2, the artist TAKES THEM BACK TO THE STORE WITH THE RECEIPT AND GETS A REFUND.

so anyway, i see myself as like a fake product--something that looks just familiar enough to exit, and that appears to have a designated purpose, but it’s just kind of cheap and foreign and it becomes nightmarish to try to imagine what to do with it. 

I don’t know if anyone i know will want to do this, but i tag @negativepleasure @moviesludge @former-contender @dimestoreman @thefuzzydave @darkarfs @theoddsideofme @blueruins ...um, i don’t really know who would enjoy this. the ultimate would be @garbagenacht

[thisaintascenereviews]

Album Review by Bradley Christensen Decrepit Birth - …And Time Begins Record Label: Unique Leader Release Date: October 7 2003

My last review was on Cryptopsy’s 1996 LP, None So Vile, and they’re definitely one of the more interesting and unique death metal bands that I’ve come across, because their sound teeters on the lines between deathgrind and teech-death, because of how brutal and insane it is, but also for how technical and unique their sound is, too. They’re one of those bands that has that crossover appeal with certain kinds of death metal, and they don’t limit themselves to just one style of death metal. I’d honestly credit Cryptopsy, whether I’d credit the whole band or None So Vile, specifically, as being a pioneering force for tech-death, and maybe even deathgrind, because at that point when the album came out, tech-death was in its first stages. Bands like Necrophagist, Arsis, and Nile were just about to release their debut albums, and other bands, like Gorguts, Death, Suffocation, and many other bands were already on their way to becoming tech-death masters, and in the case of Suffocation, they also had a grindcore influence in their sound that was a bit more brutal than what other death metal fans were used to hearing, but they still had a very technical aura to them. Tech-death itself really blew up in the early 00s, because that’s, well, when bands like Necrophagist, Arsis, and Nile really started to experiment and expand their sound. Another band that is very well-renowned in that scene is Decrepit Birth. They’re so well-renowned, even back then, that they started their own record label, Unique Leader. I never knew that was their record label, actually, and I’ve listened to albums released through that label, but I found that out when I decided to pick up their debut album, 2003’s …And Time Begins.

I decided to grab this while I was getting into other early 00s tech-death bands, and in the same case of Cryptopsy, I had listened to it a few times, but I never got a chance to review it, because I kept getting a lot more tings, but I’ve wanted to talk about it for the longest time. Admittedly, when it comes to this album, I don’t have a lot to say about it, because it’s not as genre-defining or influential as None So Vile was, especially for its time, but there’s something to say about this record. It’s a half hour of insanely brutal and technical death metal from a band that’s still going strong today. The thing is, though, this is one of those albums that’s not all that unique. I mean, Necrophagist and Nile, in particular, are two very interesting bands that deserve more recognition for being unique and experimental, but Decrepit Birth scratched the itch of people that wanted tech-death that was more brutal than technical, progressive, and unique. This album is very technical, and it sounds incredibly impressive, but it’s also not flashy, pretentious, or weird for the sake of it. It’s very brutal, insane, and unrelenting, just as death metal should be, so I fee like this is perfect for death metal fans that want something a bit more technical, but they don’t want something extremely experimental, either. Even if you like those bands, sometimes it’s okay to listen to something more cut-and-dry, and while this band isn’t exactly in that vein, they remind me a lot of Suffocation. I brought them up a bit earlier, but Suffocation is a tech-death band that started off with a grindcore influence in their sound, so it was both technical and brutal, and something like that hasn’t been seen before.

I’d argue that Suffocation is a big influence, as well as Cryptopsy, on deathgrind, including bands like Exhumed, Cattle Decapitation, and Aborted, three bands I really, really enjoy, but you can hear that influence here, too. This isn’t on the same level, because it’s not quite a deathgrind album, or anything like that, but their brand of tech-death is more primal, brutal, and just heavy for the sake of it, although there are some flashy solos and moments like that. I’d totally recommend this album, considering how short it is (and truthfully, it would be a lot shorter if the last song, which is the title track, wasn’t nine minutes long, and the last three minutes are random and atmospheric noises, so I just skip through that part). It’s only a half hour, so you really can’t go wrong with this album, and it’s not super reliant on guitar solos, let alone trying to be as flashy as possible, although I don’t mind that when it comes to tech-death. They have a more direct approach to tech-death, especially in this album, so maybe they’ve changed their sound over the years, at least in terms of tech-death, but this album makes me think of Cannibal Corpse going a bit more technical in their sound. Not much, but enough to call them a tech-death band. Not that they ever would, either, but there’s definitely more of a basic death metal sound here, just with a more technical edge to it. I love this album, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a very generic album that doesn’t do anything that other bands at that time weren’t doing, so I wouldn’t say this thing is all that influential, or really as important for the genre. That doesn’t mean it’s not a good album, since I enjoy what this album is trying to do. It’s a simple tech-death album that’s also extremely brutal, insane, and awesome, so yeah, I like this a lot.

[hekate1308]

The Taste of Two

Here it is, the serial killer Drowley AU I am sure everybody asked for ;). Warnings: Cannibalism. Crowley is basically Hannibal Lecter. 

“Now, Mr, Crowley“ Naomi Tapping announced, “You have to tell me what’s in those wonderful canapés. Me and Rachel have been guessing all evening.”

“I’m so sorry” he replied with a winning smile, “but if I did, you wouldn’t like it anymore.”

She chuckled, taking another sip of her champagne. “Such a nice way to remember Judge Cohan by, this soiree.”

“I am glad you approve.”

“I am sure he would have, too; you knew him.”

Yes. And he had known him, to the very end. Crowley smiled.

As rude as the judge had often been – only once to Crowley though, which had been why he was no longer allowed to enjoy is retirement.

“Such a terrible end for a wonderful man” Naomi said now, looking down in her glass. “And the police still have no clue who did it.”

“On the contrary, they do know” he answered smoothly. “It was the Angel Maker, at least that’s what the newspapers say.”

She shook her head. “How they can call someone so disgusting an Angel Maker...”

Because he turned his victims into angels, pieces of art. Not that he could tell Mrs. Tapping that.

She would lose her appetite, and then where would they be? Plus, he didn’t have place in his fridge, the dearly departed judge had ensured that.

“You know the media, Mrs. Tapping. They will take anything just to have a headline.”

“I guess you are right.”

Crowley smiled and allowed himself another canapé.

For as stubborn a bastard as the judge had been, they tasted wonderful.

“What’s up with you?” Sam asked.

“Nothing, why?”

“You’ve been in a bad mood all week” his brother told him and Dean reminded himself that he couldn’t let his mask slip.

Sam must never find out about his little hobby.

“Just, you know... work.”

He’d been planning the judge’s abduction for weeks now. Weeks. And instead this pretentious asshole had swept in and “made him into an angel” or whatever the papers called it.

Dean hated the Angel Maker. From the name to the attitude to his high-profile victims.

When his thirst for blood had made itself known and Dean had realized he could no longer ignore it, he’d decided he would go after scumbags. Paedophiles, murderers who’d never been caught, that sort of thing.

He was doing society a favour, but no, all the publicity had to go to the guy who left opera music to play at murder scenes and was good at carving. That was it. Dean at least made the bastards he hunted suffer; this guy didn’t care, as long as he got his snack and the body looked artsy.

In the last week, Dean had killed two drug lords, but did anyone care? Oh no, everyone was screaming about the Angel Maker.

He didn’t even have a nickname. The press didn’t care.

He’d make them see.

It was time to look for a high-profile douche.

Crowley was usually more concerned with aesthetics when it came to choosing his victims, and it had only been a month since the judge. He could easily have waited a bit longer.

But the congressman who happened to run a paedophile ring was also incredibly impolite, and that had caught his attention during a fundraiser.

So, really, he was doing something good. He was a benevolent party for once. He could hardly pass the chance up.

Dick Roman would make a formidable victim.

Breaking into his apartment on the fourteenth floor of a well-secured building in upper Manhattan was only too easy. And Mr. Roman didn’t keep bodyguards during the weekend because of his extracurricular activities.

As he walked down the corridor to his door, Crowley smiled.

And then someone attacked him.

He knew immediately it wasn’t a body guard or other trained professionals; the movements didn’t fit. Even so, the man was strong, but nothing Crowley couldn’t handle, and soon he had him backed against the wall –

Only to be thrown down on the floor.

Interesting. No one had managed to put up such a fight in years.

They wrestled silently for several minutes, neither of them able to get the upper hand. Finally they were having a standoff when his attacker roughly asked, “Who are you? Not a fed, not military, I can tell.”

“I could say the same.” Crowley cocked his head to the side.

“I am the one who’s gonna make sure that scumbag doesn’t touch any more children.”

“I can only repeat my statement.”

He couldn’t be absolutely sure in the darkness, but he thought the man narrowed his eyes.

“Right. Because that just happens – two killers meeting because they are after the same target.”

“I prefer art pieces” Crowley replied smoothly, only to find himself pressed against the wall again, the man’s arm chocking him.

“You are the Angel Maker” he hissed. “You’re the one who gets all the attention because he’s extra.”

“Oh. I presume you’re the other serial killer, then? The one no one has even noticed stalks through the streets? I know your work; rather presumptuous to call me extra when you give yourself the semblance of a vigilante when really all you do is torture people to death.”

“They deserve to suffer.”

“Then what do you deserve?”

“Not to be ignored because of the likes of you, for one matter. That woman you killed six months ago – Meg Masters. She’d done nothing.”

“She bought a painting she perfectly knew I wanted to spite me.”

“She bought a painting” he mocked his accent. “Of course. But then, why are you here? I’m certain you can’t care less about what Dick roman has done.”

He was right, but Crowley was more preoccupied with wondering why being menaced by the unnamed killer was not nearly as unpleasant as it should have been.

“That’s true, but I can’t abide rude people.”

“You – “ Unexpectedly, he chuckled. It was a very nice sound.

His assailant stepped back. “You know what? You’re kind of entertaining, despite everything.”

Crowley stretched, stepping away from the wall. “I have never had a partner in crime before... want to try?” He wasn’t entirely sure why he was inviting him to join, but why not? A little variety couldn’t hurt.

“Hm... why not? Might as well see your skills everyone’s going crazy about in action...”

He was rather good at picking locks, and soon enough, they were standing over Dick Roman who was peacefully asleep with no idea what was about to happen to him.

Once they had him up, gagged, bound and afraid, they turned the light on.

Crowley had definitely not been prepared for this.

It was rather unfair; certainly someone with so little taste when it came to killing should not be so beautiful.

The Adonis in front of him looked surprised. “Fergus Crowley? The philanthropist?”

“I give back for what I take.”

“I guess. Name’s Dean” he replied, his gaze growing hungry.

How... interesting.

“Shall we?”

“Only if you’ll give me a hand” Dean said, pointing at Roman’s right one and grinning. “Since he felt kids up with that. Pervert.”

“Oh, I’ll save the best piece for you” Crowley promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled.

Roman tried to make a noise. Dean moved but Crowley raised his hand.

“Let me. Hurting him would ruin the tableau.”

“Oh, will you teach me how to art?”

“Quid pro quo. You’ll have to show me how to make it last.”

“I can do that.”

And they did.

Dean looked even more mesmerizing with blood on his face.

“Well, if that isn’t the Mona Lisa of murders right there” Dean said, looking at their word two delicious hours later.

“And the night is still so young” he agreed. “How about we clean up and afterwards I show you how to cook in the most humane way possible?”

“I like the way you think. I’ve never tried it, but hey... this asshole definitely deserved to be devoured.”

“It’s not often I meet someone who has the same tastes I do... even if they are a little misguided.”

“Misguided, hm? I’ll show you misguided.”

And to his surprise – and delight, as he had to admit – Dean dragged him into a kiss. He tasted of blood and Crowley would have loved to continue, but sadly they couldn’t allow themselves to tarry too long at a crime scene.

They met again one hour later in Crowley’s apartment.

Dean had indeed cleaned up; he’d even put on a suit.

“Look at you; you’re not that bad when you’re not imitating some has-been rock star.”

“Not all of us have the money to buy expensive clothes only to throw them away after a good session” Dean replied.

It didn’t take long for them to start flirting again.

“Careful with the hand.”

“I’m always careful with my hands” Dean replied, raising his right only to trail it down Crowley’s tie.

“Some would say you’re playing with fire.”

“It’s a stove; no real danger there.”

In his eyes, there was both a challenge and something like a threat.

He was the most exhilarating thing Crowley had ever encountered.

Dean knew he probably shouldn’t have gone to Crowley’s apartment, despite the murder they had shared. And so far, the guy only knew his first name. It would have been easy to disappear of Crowley’s radar.

But something about the man just drew him in. Maybe the contrast of the wealthy philanthropist being a cold-blooded killer that was not at all unlike Dean’s own life as a devoted brother and perfect employer while enjoying a good murder now and then. Maybe it was the accent. Maybe it was the suit.

Whatever the reason, soon Dean found himself in the middle of a cooking lesson.

He’d never tried human meat before, but he had heard it tasted like chicken, plus he couldn’t deny that the idea of trying a victim of the Angel Maker himself was... exciting.

And it did, indeed, taste like chicken. Extremely well-prepared chicken though.

And of course Crowley happened to buy wine so expensive even Dean liked it.

He knew very well at the end of the meal that he had to make a decision.

Granted, it might not have been his best, but –

He kissed Crowley again.

“I must say” Crowley drawled Dean didn’t know how much later. “I didn’t expect that.”

He chuckled. “Me neither. Thanks for good old Dick Roman.”

“Indeed.”

Dean, despite having had many one night stands in the past, found himself reluctant to ho.

And Crowley didn’t want him to leave either apparently since he told him “You might as well stay.”

Well then.

Somehow, Dean and Crowley kept contacting each other after that first night. After all, it wasn’t easy to find friends who shared one’s hobby when this hobby was a bit outside the norm.

And yes, they continued to have sex. Crowley would even go so far as to admit that he liked Dean, if only to himself.

They soon found that their philosophies didn’t have to contradict one another. Dean continued to kill “douche bags” as he put it, while he made sure to call Crowley whenever he found someone promising an aesthetic scene.

The police never figured out that the Angel Maker had found a partner.

“My, my” Naomi declared on another one of Crowley’s soirées, “I am almost jealous.”

“Of whom?” Dean asked.

“That is open for discussion, my dear.”

Dean grinned at his brother. “Hear that Sammy? I’m a catch.”

Sam had originally been surprised when he’d told him he was dating Fergus Crowley of all people – he’d been so kind as to come to Dean’s restoration shop one day so they could explain how they met – but seeing how satisfied they both were with the arrangement, he’d soon come to accept and even like him a little.

“Yeah, yeah, Dean. So why don’t you tell is what you and your boyfriend have prepared?”

“Not so quick. Master pieces take their time.”

He caught Crowley’s eyes and grinned.

There was every reason to think that the chateaubriand à la Arthur Ketch would win universal approval.

[happymetalgirl]

My Comment on “Metal Elitism”

I thought I would be doing more of these when I started this blog (little thought pieces about metal that is), but metal this year has been really prolific in terms of albums that have taken up my attention that I’ve wanted to write about, and I’m glad it’s been so prolific too. It’s a genre that, despite most people considering it over the hill in terms of its presence in the public eye, is still vibrant, growing, and, quite importantly, still evolving and expanding. And that’s a big part of what I want to talk about in this little piece here: metal evolving and the people opposed to certain kinds of it or all of it.

When metal “elitism” is brought up in the context of discussions of metal music, most often what I see it referring to is something I think is more accurately described as metal purism. Elitism, I think, kind of applies better to things that are more objectively measurable, and music taste is both incredibly complicated to “measure” and hardly objective. Referring to the mindset that the term (metal elitism) describes, the “elitism” part of it sort of gives the people who hold the mindset a bit of undeserved credence, because it’s not like they have a more objectively elite taste or opinion (which arguably doesn’t even exist). Often, they’re just a little more arbitrarily picky about one or a few aspects of the genre that could easily, from another perspective, be seen as silly, like not wanting to date someone with a certain hair color or below a certain height: silly, but preferences are preferences. Well, preferences are one thing; deal-breakers are another. The attitude from metal “elitists” that most often irritates people is the closed-minded stiff-arming of some or any violation of their incredibly prioritized and rigid preferences of their music and their expression of discontent for it being violated in their eyes from some self-supposed position of authority (which explains why it’s so often referred to as elitism).

I’ve made pretty evident in previous posts on here how open I am to bands’ experimentation with their sounds and with the subgenres they play in and around. I love bands like Havok and Cannibal Corpse who keep to what they know they do best and continue to deliver streams of exciting vintage music, and bands like Havok, Power Trip, Ghost, etc. who play primarily older styles of metal in the modern era are an important part of keeping metal from being a volatilely trend-hopping genre and maintaining its longevity through the sustenance of more of its styles throughout the years. But (in my opinion) metal also needs to continue to evolve to stay “alive” and I think it’s a unique genre in that so much of its community from the entire vast age range it encompasses holds its oldest works in such high regard. Even metal’s youngest listeners praise 70’s and 80’s classics and icons like Metallica, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, etc. and even less famous groups like Anthrax, Sepultura, and Kreator still find a lot of praise from young listeners. But metal is almost half-a-century old now as a genre and it didn’t stop with the new wave of British heavy metal, or thrash, or black metal, or death metal, or nu metal, or metalcore, and it’s certainly not stopping with djent, or blackgaze, or the numerous other fringe styles of metal gaining more and more traction. And that’s great. What a time to be alive for metal listeners with so much metal out there to choose from, with older bands like Iron Maiden still putting out exciting traditional material, younger groups like Havok paying excellent tribute to such tradition, and others like Code Orange and Igorrr changing and expanding the landscape of heavy music.

I bring up the evolution of metal because I feel the opposition to some or all of it from “elitists” to be the most aggravating aspect of their mindset (and the pretentious attitude of course). Oppositions to things like growls or industrial elements I find often coming from older metalheads, often purists just stuck in their ways, reluctant to get out of their comfort zone (and who knows, I’m not 50, maybe I’ll be that way toward something else when I’m there, maybe that’s just a part of getting older, I haven’t experienced it yet). They’ll say things about how bands in their day really rocked and new bands just sound excessive and unmelodic, or how real music has to be played live on classical instruments, not computers (electric guitar amplified through numerous effects like distortion counting as a classical instrument in their eyes). But purism isn’t just an “old dad” thing either. Younger black metal purists being probably the most notoriously annoying bunch often attest that their pet subgenre must be kept pure of clean vocals or non-satanic subject matter or musical traits not entirely metal, often making the cultural appropriation argument against such things (which usually involves fallacious assumption of some culture’s absolute ownership of certain traits and false authority over others’ use of said traits). Purists have every right to have their opinions and their preferences, of course; it’s when that opinion is touted as law that really grinds my gears and the gears of people who enjoy something these purists don’t enjoy. I’ve been pretty fortunate to have witnessed just about all of this kind of behavior exclusively online; I’ve had pretty much only positive interactions and enjoyable, civil conversations with people at shows or music gear stores about music and such.

The most ridiculous and easily dismissible of the declarations purists often make are the broad, baseless (or unsupported), and sometimes flat-out wrong. But unfortunately, they’re some of the most frustratingly common too. “Metallica was pure shit after Justice.”, “X band was only the real X band with Y singer in it.”, “Bands who eschew corpse paint, church burning, satanic themes, or whatever aren’t black metal.”, “Nu metal, metalcore, deathcore, hair metal, etc. isn’t metal.”. That last one is so infuriatingly common and egregiously wrong I think hearing or reading it from so many people makes my blood pressure rise just a little bit; there can be metal that you don’t like and just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean you get to shut it out at the gates of the metal kingdom like some authoritarian ruler and declare it “not metal”. I really dislike hair metal for the most part, but it’s still metal; it’s just an era and subgenre of metal I find embarrassing and not to my tastes.

I think we all know what “metal elitism” is and what’s annoying about it, but what impact does it even have? It’s pretty apparent that a lot of these assertions are made with at least some intent of elevating the asserter’s position of authority and reverence by way of making their taste seem more refined. They (usually) want to seem more distinguishing in their choices and more enlightened by seeming harder to please on the basis of liking only the highest end of some linear scale of “quality” in music. “Oh, you like X band, well they’re not nearly as fast and technical and brutal as Y band (who are probably way too fast and technical and brutal for you).” It’s really petty, and at this point in my immersion into metal and its culture, it’s not at all detrimental to my confidence in my own music-related opinions or even worth the stress of a fruitless or disassociated argument. But I imagine to newer, younger, more impressionable listeners, these attitudes can be more confusing, disheartening, and discouraging, and from nearer to the outside, they reflect poorly on the community surrounding the music or worse, set a precedent of pretentious arrogance about musical selectiveness as a prerequisite for “true” membership in the community.

I’ve seen a lot of people complain gratuitously that metalheads are the worst treating and most unaccepting music listeners, always ready to shoot down someone with slightly different taste and scoff while doing it. I don’t know who these people are talking to or how many of them they’re talking to, but my decade or so of experience in the metal community has been majorly positive, even online. I honestly can’t really picture what kind of experiences they’ve had, but I think it’s an exaggeration of this blemish in the metal community. If most of the metal community were like this, Ghost, Deafheaven, Bring Me the Horizon, and Babymetal would not have careers as big as they are right now.

Like any culture, it’s important for metal to have some ways of determining who’s in and who’s out of it, or less in it. Someone who heard “In the End” yesterday and thinks Linkin Park is pretty heavy is obviously less immersed than a Death fan (who is still more than welcome to like Linkin Park). The Death fan can gladly suggest a path to heavier, more immersive music and suggest Linkin Park’s status as just the tip of the metal iceberg, and maybe the Linkin Park fan knows another band outside the world of metal that the Death fan might enjoy too. Sharing suggestions and tastes in music is pretty important in getting people into the community and deeper into the subcommunities of the genre. The key is the attitude of the interaction, and metal is certainly not the only music community with a problem of upturned-nosed fans who think their taste is superior to most other peoples’. It’s much more fulfilling and helpful to recommend some music you like to someone who doesn’t know it, even if their reaction to it is resistant, than it is to berate people for not matching your opinion. Just remember every time someone referred to death metal as “screamo” and passed it off as “just talentless cookie monster noise” that “isn’t even music”.

 My main thing that I don’t think I see too many people saying: just stop calling it “elitism”.

They’re not elitists; they’re just metal purists.

They’re not elite for liking a more technical or more “kvlt” band, and just addressing their opinions like those of pouty, ultra-conservative purists who don’t like change that doesn’t cater exactly to their own presupposed notions is the best way to shut their behavior down.

And like all the interactions I described earlier, politeness works better than reacting to their vitriol or egotism with more of it.

 Damn, no wonder I haven’t written so many of these; I thought this was going to be short, but I apparently just can’t do short.

[tryingthisfangirlthing]

Endless List of Works-in-Progress

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on: writing, art, gifsets, whatever.

So I was sort-of tagged by @pellaaearien (in the manner of “if you see this and haven’t done the thing yet, do it”). And I’m tagging @viennainspringtime, @flootzavut, @doctorinblue @onekisstotakewithme (only if you want to do this!) and anyone else who sees this who wants to do the thing. :)

This is going to be long. Firstly, I’m only counting the works for which I actually have at least a few paragraphs written, aka not including the million and one ideas bouncing around in my head, some of which I have notes for and intend to write in the near future as well. Secondly, I’m only counting works on which I see myself spending time in the near future. 

Also, most of these don’t have proper titles. Titles are the worst, and I generally only have a hope of coming up with a title after I’ve finished a thing or written at least a few thousand words.

(Doctor Who) Nine/Rose ballroom dance class scene A short thing inspired by this photo manip. Currently untitled, basically what it says on the tin. He’s a dance instructor who sweeps her away from Mickey for several glorious minutes. Open-ended with implied mutual interest/pining (because mutual pining is my Thing). Basically I just have to sit down and finish putting the words to paper, dammit.

She was holding more-or-less the normal dancing position, because she knew that if she lowered her arms she wouldn’t want to raise them again for a week, certainly not before the end of the class.

“Whose idea was this again?” Mickey grimaced, scrunching up his nose.

“You sided with Mum on the whole dancing at the wedding bit, not me.”

(Doctor Who) Fem!Tentoo/Rose romantic fluff-ish thing Tentoo is female (because, hello, Donna’s a woman?) and her and Rose start bonding during and in between all those stops to drop the other companions off, and eventually reveal Feelings. Basically I decided to try to fill my own prompt. I still want to do it, except I am terrible at getting-to-know-you bonding chatter. Both in real life and in writing. It confounds me.

“I am the Doctor.” It was odd to hear those words in such different tones -— slightly higher, a bit rougher. “Well…” and she drew the word out exactly like the Doctor Rose knew did. “I’m a Time Lord-human biological metacrisis. Rather different body.” She rolled her shoulders, grimacing, laying one hand on her chest. “Bit of an odd feeling, having only one heart. I keep thinking something should be missing.” She looked back at Rose. “But I’m the Doctor in every way that counts. Thoughts, memories, feelings.” Rose wasn’t sure whether the split second of hesitation before the last was only her imagination.

(Doctor Who) Fem!Ten/Rose human AU speed dating Because I love Fem!Ten. I think this was also from something I saw on timepetalsprompts, but I can’t find the post right now. Fem!Ten here is adorably socially awkward and I want to snuggle her. But this story also suffers from the same I-can’t-write-bonding-talk problem as above.

“The Doctor. Well —” she reached back to rub at the side of her neck. “It’s Jane Smith. But all my friends call me the Doctor.”

“I’m Rose Tyler.” Rose couldn’t help smiling, just a little. “So, are you a doctor? Like, do you do surgery?”

“Oh! No, not that kind of doctor. Astrophysics. And politics. And I’m working on my doctorate of electrical engineering.” She twisted one curl around her finger, tapping the fingers of her other hand silently on the edge of the table.

“Wow.” Rose inhaled, trying not to be intimidated. “That’s a lot.”

(Doctor Who) Nine, Ten From this prompt, of Rose having a one-night stand with Ten while she was traveling with Nine, that decided to gnaw at me, and I immediately wondered “Where is Ten’s Rose?” and then it developed Feelings. This is another where I really just need to get all the words down, but I’m incredibly afraid I won’t do all the emotions the story holds in my head justice on paper (or on the screen).

“Oh. Oh!” The realization dawns in his eyes. “So that was…” His expression falls, his voice flat, deep disappointment in his gaze. “You — that you — didn’t know it was me. And you wanted to see the old me again, that was why you wanted to come here.” He’s closing off, something she hasn’t seen on this him before, but she instantly recognizes it, that look in his eyes, the way his features harden. “I can’t change back. I’m sorry. I wish I could—”

(There’s also a version that’s shorter and angstier but that doesn’t have enough words yet to count for this list.)

(Doctor Who) Ten/Rose flogging scene I started writing this to process a personal experience, and maybe attempt to more accurately depict conscious BDSM than how I usually see it portrayed (than I’ve portrayed some practices myself in the past). What I currently have will likely be scrapped, or cannibalized for a second version. But I still want to write this, and possibly expand on it, into a series of scenes (of actually rather minimally sexual BDSM). But it’s a balancing act between not wanting it to devolve into pure imagination, and not wanting to recount intense personal experiences for the world to get off to, out of respect for my partners.

She trails her fingers down his vertebrae — he’s so wiry, she’d worried about hitting bone anywhere she struck, but he’d reassured her that he would be fine. Lightly, she strikes his left buttock with the back of her hand, just because she can, not because he needs any more warming up, his backside tinted pink as well. The smallest of noises curls in his throat, part amusement, and she smiles.

Resting her hand other on his shoulder, brushing her thumb in a short arc, she asks, “Ready?”

He nods, clears his throat. Head lowered, he adjusts his stance slightly where he braces himself against the wall on his forearms. “Yes,” he says, a slight rasp to his voice.

(Nonfiction) BDSM writing how-to A lot of us tend to include elements of BDSM in our smut. Heck, I’ve done the same. But there’s a difference between spicing up the sex and consciously engaging in BDSM, and there’s not much information for “laypeople” on how (some/most conscientious) people do the latter, and how you can best write it. My intention is to try to fix that. It’s very much a work in progress and I keep changing it as I gain more experience and insight myself, and talk with far more experienced people. (Also I sometimes feel really pretentious writing this so if someone really wants this to be a thing, please please let me know.)

(Sanctuary) Adolescence of a Mongrel Vampire A work likely to approach novel-length in which Nikolija (gender-swapped Nikola Tesla) deals with having become a vampire in the early days after the change, and the effect this has on the Five at Oxford. Rather graphic and unpleasant in parts, very whump-y, with a dash of unfulfilled lesbian pining to round out the angst. (This is also actually part of a universe of sorts, with multiple stories featuring said gender-swapped Tesla, but it can be read on its own.)

“How’s —” She cut him off, not wanting to hear the lie, swallowed, and tried again, forcing hoarse words over her lips. “How’s Helen?”

Newton, as she had begun to privately call the pigeon, squawked, and she realized she was gripping him — her? it — far too tightly, and she stepped inside and set it down on the edge of the washbasin.

“She’s fine.” Nigel spoke softly. “She lost some blood, and she’s restin’ now, but she saw to herself and she’ll be fine.”

Nikolija nodded, finally, and mostly closed the door behind herself, purposely not quite enough that it would latch.

He saw it, and didn’t say anything, as she kept her distance from him, moving along the walls over to the plain wooden wardrobe.

“Tell her I am sorry.”

She bowed her head and turned her back on him as she rifled through her clothes.

(Sanctuary) Soulmarks UA Soulmarks are not only for romantic partners, but anyone who is has touched your heart in a significant way, however briefly or not-so-briefly. Helen, with her lifespan and work, of course has far more soulmarks than most. (This story was not meant to be this long! But it kind of took off and then I had no other choice but to trace through most of her life as we know it or can surmise it from the show.)

The cravat never caught on. It would have hidden the identifying mark in the hollow of one’s throat, that design — not words, but figures, lines contrasting against the skin in a symbol — that would be traced elsewhere on your own skin, if this person was to touch your soul.

It wasn’t unusual to have multiple marks, some clear, more starkly colored, for best friends or lovers or spouses, and some fainter, for a passing acquaintance who nevertheless offered exactly the right words or listening ear at the moment you needed them, or some kind of animal symbol for a beloved pet.

There were some who had many, many marks belonging to others — tracing up and down an arm or a leg, the lines occasionally interweaving — and then there were some who only had a few, loving rarely.

And then, there was Helen Sophia Magnus, whose skin from just below her collarbones downward was a mess of various shades of gray, so that individual designs were hardly distinguishable any more, aside from a few that stood out in stark black lines.

(Sanctuary) Teslen vampire/hunter AU He’s a vampire; she’s a hunter. He’s an unusual challenge for her; she’s the same for him. She’s also the one responsible for the entire vampire epidemic in the first place. I think this is the only one that’s been published in any kind of significant way so far; if you’d like, you can read what’s already up online here. Currently somewhat stymied because I’ve gotten past all the really fun relatively fluffy (for a given value of fluff) “mostly enemies but forging a grudging relationship” stuff and now I have to think of an actual plot, which I am incredibly bad at sorting out properly (and I really should have seen that coming, bad Rinari).

(Original Work) The Kel’Reth This is less of one work and more an entire project. It’s a whole flipping world, with one long, more traditional novel-ish work, about a king who loses his kingdom to a coup, and then several other stories in the same world, among them a lesbian explorer couple and a glimpse into the Kel’Reth mythology through a temple librarian. A lot of it is mostly ideas and notes. (Worldbuilding is hard!) It’s kind of a mess and I haven’t worked on it in what feels like ages but it’s my precious.

Sreh was already waiting for them with the messenger and a zazak, one of the large, thinly-furred, horned creatures the Kel'Reth used as pack animals, now relieved of its load. The tactician’s expression was somber.

“What do you have to tell me?” The king adjusted his red robes, cinching his belt tighter, as if that might help to brace him for whatever terrible news he could feel was coming.

The envoy bowed deeply, laying his frills flat. “I bow before you in awe, General-King, Elected of the Zir–”

“What do you have to tell me?” Varekh snapped. “Courier. Consider yourself excused from formalities.”

The messenger paled, swallowing heavily as he straightened. “My King… people have begun to die. It all happened so quickly—but some say even a quarter of the people may be gone by now. The Regent-King has fled, with the Crown Prince. Jazeri now holds the throne, though she has not ordered your guards slain yet. I have a letter from Regent-King Levor here–” he dug in his satchel to retrieve the roll of parchment, still sealed, and offered it to Varekh “–for you.”

His mind spinning, Varekh shook his head, not reaching to take the letter, simply absorbing the news. So he was too late. He had failed.

Perhaps it was instinct that made Sreh grab his arm just before his knees gave out from underneath him.

“Your Majesty! My King!” Her voice rose in panic. “Varekh!”

(Original Work) Heaven in Hell This began as a short story. Then it blossomed into a series of short stories, just a series of moments that somehow became a story in their own right. Jeanne/Evelyn is a lowly guardian angel, who talks with the demons she’s supposed to kill, who falls in love (and God forbid his angels truly love anyone but him), who is cast out of heaven and realizes maybe hell is her heaven after all. I started writing this in French, actually, and I have this weird compulsion to continue writing it in French. But since I have no French teacher to currently impress with little French stories, I haven’t made much progress recently. Still, I love it and I do want to finish it one day. It’s pretty personal, honestly, because I myself used to be highly religious of the very conservative variety and am now quite at home among the flaming queers. I’m sure you can see the parallels.

“I miss you.” Isabelle bit her lip, raising her eyes to meet Evelyn’s again. “You were always my best friend. Come back, please. I don’t know what you did–I’m not going to ask–but I’m sure the Lord would forgive you. He’s always ready to forgive…”

“You’re naive.” It was quiet, almost a whisper, as she stood.

The demoness kissed the angel on the cheek, pressing her lips to the corner of her mouth several moments longer than what would be strictly appropriate for a friend.

“Have a good evening, ‘Belle.”

With a flick of her tail, Evelyn turned to leave.

[horror-movie-blog]

Top Ten Best THMBs of 2018

Original Publishing Date: December 15th, 2018

Well, it's that time of year again, when I look back at all the horror movies I watched over the year and decide which were the best and which were the worst. As a reminder to those who haven't had their New Year hymens broken yet, this isn't a list of movies that came out this year, but those I watched as part of my Thursday/Friday Horror Movie Blog. But before I get into the grit and dirty, there's something I need to announce. I've been giving this some thought, and since there were weeks this year where I skipped THMBs due to my lack of investment and enjoyment, I decided that I'm going to end the Horror Movie Blog... So I can expand it to any movie I want to watch. That's right, not just horror movies. Adventure. Syfy. Romantic Comedy. Goose Punk. Whatever I feel like that week, that's what I'm going to watch. Of coarse, there will still be horror, and I'm going to favor horror over any other genre because it's my favorite, but I realize this is my only opportunity ever week to watch stuff due to my busy schedule. And since there's so many movies I've been meaning to watch, I felt like this is a great way of finally knocking them off my list. So look forward to those in the next year. With that said, let's just jump into it. Here are my favorite films I watched during THMB this year. 10. Repulsion When I first saw this movie, I gave it a glowing review and labeled it as a new favorite. But it's been months since that viewing, and looking back, I might have over thought the movie. Don't get me wrong, I still admire it, and think it deserves the recognition it gets, but I realize so much stuff in the movie was just there to be pretentious art house film stuff. I have a feeling if I watched this again I'll notice all the unnecessary additions to it that doesn't really need to be in it. However, I understand those pretentious, weird moments are what gives the movie it's atmosphere and tone, so getting rid of them would render the film. Still, if there was ever a film that I would label pretentious, it would be this. I still liked it, but it wasn't the master piece that I claimed it to be, so I gave it the lowest spot on the list.   9. Trick r Treat My enjoyment of this film comes down to atmosphere. I wanted something to get me into the Halloween mood and this film did just that. Despite not finding the individual plots to be predictable and pointless at times, I was invested and did find them interesting. I still love how they all take place on the same night in the same town, a trait that I wish more anthology series took advantage of. If you were a fan of Krampus, you'll be a fan of this. 8. Kuroneko The latest movie to show up on my list, Kuroneko was more like a dark fairy tale than a horror film, but still managed to creep me out. It kept my attention throughout the film, and there were times where I had no idea what was coming up next in the plot, subverting my expectations. And the ending was fantastic too, leaving it up to the audience to interrupt its meaning and what happened. Add on top of that memorable visuals and a compelling story, and you got yourself an underrated classic. 7. Red Dragon Many people say that Red Dragon is superior to Silence of the Lambs, and after watching the film, I agree. The dynamic between the main character and Hannibal Lector was spot on, the B-plot of the Tooth Fairy was heart breaking and terrifying, and it was all paced together perfectly... Okay, the ending was a but tacked on, but that's a nitpick compared to the rest of the film. It's weird how this movie doesn't get half the recognition Silence of the Lambs get. I mean, Philip Seymour Hoffman gets set on fire and rolled down a hill in a wheelchair. What happened in Silence again? Oh right, a bunch of fat lady get skinned. Yeah, case close. 6. A Quiet Place I feel bad watching so many good horror films this year, cause many of them could have easily made it to the #1 spot if I watched a bunch of shit. But I didn't, cause believe it or not, I'd like to enjoy my Friday nights, so many great films get low rankings this year. But make no mistake, A Quiet Place is still a fantastic horror film. The simple act of making noise has life or death consequences in this universe, creating a show don't tell movie where you're always on the end of your seat. But of coarse, the thing that splits people is the ending, where it kind of feels like a cheap out. I mean... It has to end on something, I guess, but still, it makes you scratch your head and question the rules of this universe. Still, that doesn't undermine the rest of the film. Fantastic film. 5. Cube Six people trapped in cube, which is made up of thousands of other cubes. They need to work together in order to get out, but that proves to be more difficult than it seems. My enjoyment of the film comes from its simple idea but great execution, how the characters solve the ultimate puzzle of the film, and the nerve racking suspense when you realize that not everyone's buddy-buddy with each other. There's a common theme I see in these list selections, that the ending didn't really land the plane right. I heard people complain about this movie's ending too, but... I don't know, I kind of like it. Again, the ending doesn't ruin the movie. Please check it out if you like SyFY-horror. 4. Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? On this list we have aliens, cannibals, vampire-cat-spirits and goblin in a halloween mask. Yet what's scarier than all of them? An old lady. A very disturbed old lady, who's only victim is her crippled sister. And that's good enough for me. The amount of agony this poor women goes through due to her cunt of a sister is horrible. Yet they never truly villainfy Baby Jane, as we see clearly she's just a poor old woman trying to reclaim what little fame she has left, her only stardom in the world. I might sound like a broken record again, but the "twist" at the end didn't really add much to the rest of the film. Yet I think even the film knows this, for it's not lingered that long. I don't know, maybe it serves a purpose, but to me, it didn't really add anything, nor changed anything. Still, a great movie. 3. Hausu I really wanted to place Hausu as #1, it was so memorable and enjoyable that I felt like it deserved the spot. But there's two more who do, so it's three. That being said, I love Hausu. The amount of creativity that shines in this movie, how it experiments with what can be scary and what can be funny, and somehow successfully makes an effective horror-comedy is just mind boggling. And that's a perfect word to describe this film, mind-boggling. If this isn't the best horror film I saw this year, it's defiantly the best horror-comedy. More people need to see this film. I heard the director wanted to make a Jaws like movie, but for Japan. Well, if what he meant was a movie that rivaled Jaws in creative film making, then yes, I think it did. 2. Hereditary When you really think about it, Hereditary's plot is fairly simple; someone dies and they try to contact the spirit. Yet how the execute this plot is what earned this #2 spot. The framing of the camera, the pacing of the plot, the disturbing imagery, all wrapped together with suspense, wondering what will happen next. And you're going to hate me for saying this, but... The ending is the weakest part. Yeah-yeah, I know. Cop out. But did feel a little weird when you spent the whole movie guessing what was going to happen, only to get a solid answer at the end which makes you go... Really? That's what this film was building up to? But who cares about the destination, it was journey there that made Hereditary the second best horror film of the year. But what's the best, you might ask? Well keep reading, dummy. 1. The VVitch But... I can't understand what the characters are saying! Fuck you. But... Nothing happens! Fuck you. But... It's set in old people times! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. This is one of the best horror films I have ever seen. If you call yourself a horror movie fan and you hated this film... That is your opinion and I respect you. Also fuck you. This is one of the few films that I can call disturbing. It takes a corny horror movie monster, a witch, and reminds us why people were afraid of these things. Not only that, but the attention to detail. From the costumes, to the sets, to the effects. My God... Everything just stands out in my head. And there's so many memorable scenes. God, seeing the negative reception this movie got just makes my blood boil. How can you be bored by this? Just... How? How small is your attention span if this is considered "long"? Whatever, go watch American Horror Story or something if you can't wait ten minutes for something spooky to happen. This movie is great, and I reward it the #1 horror film of the year. Okay... I went off the rails on that last one. Again, this is just my opinion, my tastes, my experience. If you like/hate any of these films, that's perfectly fine and I'm sure you have a valid reason why. Just as long as you gave the movie a chance, that's all I expect of people. With that said, it was fun walking down the horror road with all of you, but it's time to embark on new territories. And I'll see you then.