yourabattoir

[yourabattoir]

thinking randomly of michael m.yers having a birthday cake made for his 9th birthday in one of the halloween comics when an older boy ate all of the cake in front of him. which prompted him to lock him in the shower to burn him to death with scalding hot water 😅

[yourabattoir]

hannibal: season 1.

dialogue prompts from season one of nbc's hannibal.

fear is the price of imagination.

my thoughts are often not tasty.

not fond of eye contact, are you?

perception's a tool that's pointed on both ends.

i don't find you that interesting.

you and i are just alike.

how do you see me?

therapy doesn't work on me. i know all the tricks.

therapy is an acquired taste which i have yet to acquire.

i don't think we've ever been alone in a room together.

killing must feel good to god. he does it all the time.

last time i went to a dark place, i brought something back.

dogs keep a promise a person can't.

i remember. i just didn't want to talk about it.

i want the truth. which sometimes requires a little deception.

sounds like something a liar would say.

perception is the most important thing in your life right now.

i don't care what anyone thinks.

i'm gonna be messed up, aren't i?

there's no such thing as 'getting used to' what you experienced.

you do this a lot?

no wonder you have nightmares.

can you catch somebody's crazy?

everybody thinks you did it, you know.

why did you come back here?

i can help you, if you ask me to.

how did you know it was me?

i don't want to go to sleep.

i'll keep your secret.

whose family values?

when misery rains, it pours.

i'm not normal. not anymore.

what was done to you wasn't normal.

support groups are sucking the life out of me.

the family you're born with isn't really family.

tell me about your bad dreams.

i'll just have to get used to lying.

it's important to know when to turn the page.

you want me to do drugs?

more secrets for us.

it's okay. you're home now.

i'm a little taken aback, slash a lot taken aback.

i'm not even sure if i'm awake now.

i've got just the thing to wake you up.

this is not who you are.

who prays over us when we sleep?

do you wait until you think i'm asleep to come to bed?

can we have a conversation, or do you want to pretend everything's alright?

is there anything i can offer you romantically or spiritually or physically to help you out?

you can ask me anything you want.

why don't you come up with your own answers, if you don't like mine?

it's really a very dull story, though, isn't it?

do you want to be alone? don't answer that. just think about your answer.

i don't want you to be alone, not now and not ever.

it's your fight. but i'm in your corner.

i can't give you what you need.

i thought if i kept it to myself, our lives wouldn't change.

i didn't count on changing as much as i did.

i'm gonna sit here until you're ready to talk. you don't have to say a word until you're ready, but i'm not going anywhere until you do.

you looked like you were dreaming.

you're wearing a very well-tailored person suit.

i see enough of you to see the truth of you.

words are living things. they have personality, point of view, agenda.

did you think it was a date?

i googled 'psychopath'. went down the checklist.

i wouldn't be good for you.

it's nice when someone sees us, or has the ability to see us. it requires trust.

i was worried you were dead.

i feel like i've dragged you into my world.

not feeling like yourself is kind of what you do, isn't it?

clearly there's something you don't want to tell me.

i think you need to tell your own story.

no one knows more about ___ than i do.

i won't lie if you don't.

whatever you're feeling now, it won't last.

if you open this door, you won't control what comes through. are you ready for that?

where do you go when you sneak out?

everyone decides their own version of the truth.

i won't tell anything you don't want me to.

i wondered when you would tell me.

you're grieving for the life that was taken from you.

i am officially concerned about you.

i'm not entirely sure what i saw was real.

you're not alone. we are here together.

you made me think i was somebody else.

it's hard to shake off something that's already under your skin.

it's a terrible thing to have your identity taken from you.

it's hard to be with another person when you can't get out of your own head.

we all want things we can't have.

sometimes all we can do is watch.

do i look alive?

i hope you have good insurance.

i know what i did, but i don't remember it.

you made me chicken soup?

this wasn't supposed to be my life.

some places are stained now. some people, too.

i didn't feel safe. so i left.

if i run, they'll catch me, won't they?

you can't protect me anymore.

why did you really call?

i'm sorry i couldn't protect you in this life.

i can't do the silent treatment.

i thought i would get better.

i don't feel like i dodged a bullet.

are you confused about who i am?

i am who i've always been.

the scales have just fallen from my eyes. i can see you now.

you seemed like you needed to talk.

[yourabattoir]

i mostly put rzhalloween very far out of my head for Obvious Reasons but this is just the most agonizingly them thing i’ve ever read it transcends its context

[yourabattoir]

julia & david + hands

[yourabattoir]

trying to get a little more writing in with my oc’s so if you’d like — please like this and specify what oc(s) you’d like something from 🫶🏻

[yourabattoir]

"you don't think we'll get caught?" ↪ all night pharmacy. / @anithikos

sam had always praised ray for his tactile nature, and such had been their dynamic—sam was the hands that held the gun. the gun was ray. it'd worked. until it hadn't. but that's a road he won't traverse, not tonight.

something about an old dog and new tricks comes to mind because ray's always found himself in the thick of it. it's his nature, even, to dirty his hands. literally.

ray already knows that jin is smart, smarter than him in the ways that matter. what he doesn't know for sure is whether or not this is in jin's nature—it's not in most people's, bodies. especially bodies with holes in the head, and especially not disposing of them.

"not unless you puke on me," ray glances up at jin from where he's wrapped the body in a rug. dryly, he adds, "then again, that'd be your DNA. not mine—so i guess i can't speak for both of us."

he finishes, standing to stretch. his lower back fucking aches, and he wipes sweat off his brow with his wrist.

"got some liquid iv in my truck. can't tell if you need it."

[yourabattoir]

they're smiling now, delighted and decidedly not bored. sandwich oil and mayonnaise seeps from their fingers, and they bite into one of the half-sour pickles that does offer a hearty crunch, not hesitating to speak with their mouth full when they add, "well, i'm sorry you're having a bad day."

it is in their nature to annoy, to pester, to find the soft spots and dig in in every possible way. bad from birth, or something like that. whatever it is, it's fun, and they don't question it more than that.

they do know they're pushing it, however. "or is this just an american thing? being so mad?" the olive branch they offer him is the extra half-sour pickle, as not-sorry as they are. you're welcome. "here."

"Sure they are." A bleak attempt at encouragement, perhaps. More accurately, a fuck off to the stop and shop, now.

What does he know about pickles? What does anybody? It's a nothing subject of conversation. He feels increasingly irate—especially when he looks up and feels like they're about to laugh at him. What's so fuckin' funny, huh?

He has a few more minutes before his boss starts yelling. He's stuck between two hells: prep work for the next shift or this.

"I don't know," he sighs, "Who else you could have been talking to. Are you on the phone? By all fuckin' means, don't let me interrupt you."

A cig would be nice, right now, if he smoked.

[yourabattoir]

every villanelle outfit [16/?]

erdem zeta printed velvet kimono jacket + pants

[yourabattoir]

eve's eyes are so dark that villanelle can see themself in them, and if they were the metaphorical type (they're very much not, if that much is not obvious) eve's eyes would be endless, so easy to get lost in. when eve gets that determined look in them, when her brow furrows and her voice remains steady, villanelle knows this is not the eve who'd walked away. this is the eve that'd stabbed them, the eve that'd broken their nose on that bus and kissed them through the taste of blood in their mouth, the eve that'd looked back at them first and stayed. but there are not two eves, are there?

villanelle thinks eve is taller, maybe literally, than ever before. and glorious, really. more so than she ever could be if she were just another body in their bed or another plaything. so unlike anna, who they'd tried so desperately to make their own without knowing that it was the opposite.

they shoot eve an earnest smile, and feel sheepish for the sincerity of it. it makes them want to back further into the counter, to put distance between the two of them, but they don't, because they don't want to, and they're done with self-sabotage, right?

particularly when it ends in attempted murder.

"that depends," villanelle says, feeling themself relax as both palms grip onto the cheap edges of the counter, leaning back into it with a casual slouch. "they wouldn't take me back even if i wanted to. which i don't," warmly, they add, "because you ruined everything."

their head cocks, canine-like, with a glint of curiosity in their eyes.

"i could take you to them now—tonight, even. well, to one of them. are you ready for that, eve?" they're not being a dick about it, either. scout's honor. "i am."

It was impossible to argue with Villanelle. They had a way of slicing through every layer of defense Eve meticulously tried to construct—though if Eve was being honest, there were fewer defenses and more elaborate lies. Lies stacked neatly to shield her from the truth. No, that wasn’t quite right either. They were to fool herself. To pretend she didn’t know exactly what all of this was.

She wasn’t some hapless woman who had stumbled into chaos by accident. Stupid decisions? Sure, she’d made those. Plenty of them. But every move, every choice—she’d spearheaded them all. It would be easy, almost comforting, to pin the blame on Villanelle, on Carolyn, or even on the dull, predictable life she’d left behind. But none of that would be true. This was her doing, her unraveling.

Now, crammed in a room that felt far smaller than it had a moment ago, Eve could no longer avoid the reality pressing in on her. She couldn’t escape herself—or Villanelle, who, infuriatingly, had become an extension of her. A reflection of what she truly wanted, of desires she couldn’t name without choking on them.

“You know I…” The words stuck, half-formed, tangled with regret and something sharper, something raw. Did it matter? Did anything she said matter? Would it grant her forgiveness? And did she even care if it did?

Yes.

“So, what now?” Her voice steadied, bolder than she felt. “Where do we go from here, you and me?”

She straightened her shoulders, partly to stretch out of the cramped position, partly because she was done shrinking away. She needed to face this—face them—head-on. There was no running now. Maybe there never had been. Maybe she’d known all along, but it had taken her this long to be brave enough to admit it.

There was nothing left to run to. No one she wanted to run toward. Well, no one except the person standing in front of her.

There was no going back.

Eve was ready to leap, no matter where it might take her.

[yourabattoir]

@jgoldberg

realistically, joe's storage key is unnoticeable in her purse, but delilah swears she feels the weight of it there, heavy as an anvil. and she's always been a bad liar, ellie would even tell you so—but she's proud of herself for the way she manages to act delighted when joe shows up at her front door with an invitation for dinner.

—which is probably because the fact that her delight isn't a front—she'd been hoping he'd come around, and insanely enough, not just to fuck.

not that she has a problem with fucking him, of course.

when they arrive at the vietnamese restaurant she recommends, she finds herself stepping in front of him to open the door wide for him to enter. colorful pepper-shaped lights surround them, and the smell of lime and basil and bone broth hits her nose immediately.

"after you," is sardonic, just like everything else between them. she shoots him a smile, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. when they're seated, she fingers at her menu, tries her best not to shake her leg under the table considering how small it is. too bad the delight from earlier has shifted into nervous energy she can't quite bite back.

to reiterate: delilah alves is a terrible, no good, very bad fucking liar.

"so," she says, looking and not reading the menu, tone light, "i haven't seen you skulking around lately."

[yourabattoir]

BLOOD RELATED PROMPTS

requested by my bestie 

WORDS: 

“  is that your blood?  ”

“  woah—  hold up you’re bleeding.  ”

“  your bandages— you’re bleeding through them.  ”

“  shit,  i think i pulled my stitches.  ”

“  i’ll make them bleed for this.  ”

“  a little blood never never hurt anyone.  ”

“  why the fuck is there blood on the carpet?  ”

“  your nose is bleeding.  ”

“  you can make me bleed all you want,  i’ll never scream for you.  ”

“  you don’t understand,  i had to do it.  i had to kill them.  ”

“  stop fussing— this isn’t my blood.  ”

“  i did what was necessary.  ”

“  why are you bleeding?  what happened?  ”

“  who hurt you?  why is there blood all over you?  ”

“  i think you’ll look quite pretty when you bleed.  ”

“  who did you kill?  whose blood is that?  ”

“  i’m not usually a sadistic sort of person,  but i will take pleasure in spilling your blood.  ”

“  i don’t actually enjoy killing.  it’s messy.  the blood gets everywhere.  it’s just necessary sometimes.  ”

“  it looked kind of beautiful in a fucked up sort of way.  blood on snow.  the kind of thing you usually only see in stories.  ” 

“  i can’t get it off—  i can still feel it on me!  ”

“  just calm down.  breathe.  i’ll take care of this.  ”

“  hold still— you’ve got blood on your face.  ”

“  why is there blood on your knife?  ”

“  oh,  it’s just a little bit of blood.  don’t nutsack out.  ”

“  i’m going to drain every ounce of your blood.  nice and slow.  like you deserve.  ”  

“  i’ll kill anyone who ever makes you bleed again.  ”

“  your/their blood is just too pretty to keep inside.  ”

“  there’s something fascinating about blood.  it’s captivating. ”

“  blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb.  ”

“  you made me bleed on my shirt—  i fucking loved this shirt!  ”

“  leave me alone,  it’s shark week and i got blood on my sheets.  ”

“  should i be concerned about why there’s blood in the sink?  ”

“  do i ask questions or do i just help you clean up all this blood?  ”

ACTIONS: 

[ ALONE ]  for sender to show up on receiver’s doorstep covered in blood. 

[ ARRIVE ] for receiver to show up on sender’s doorstep covered in blood. 

[ CLEANSE ] for sender to find receiver trying to clean blood off themselves. 

[ DISCOVER ] for receiver to find sender trying to clean blood off themselves. 

[ AID ] for sender to help receiver clean blood off themselves. 

[ ERASE ] for receiver to help sender clean blood off themselves. 

[ ESCAPE ] for sender to find receiver after they’ve killed someone. 

[ SEEN ] for receiver to find sender after they’ve killed someone. 

[ HELP ] for sender to clean up the aftermath of receiver’s crime. 

[ ACCEPT ] for receiver to clean up the aftermath of sender’s crime. 

[ FOUND ] for sender to discover receiver covered in blood. 

[ EXPOSE ] for receiver to discover sender covered in blood. 

[ ATTACK ] for sender to stab or shoot receiver. 

[ WOUNDED ] for receiver to stab or shoot sender. 

[ BROKE ] for sender to punch receiver hard enough their nose bleeds. 

[ INJURE ] for receiver to punch sender hard enough their nose bleeds. 

[ WITNESS ] for sender to see receiver get hurt enough to bleed.  

[ WATCH ] for receiver to see sender get hurt enough to bleed. 

[ RETALIATE ] for sender to make receiver’s attacker bleed. 

[ DEFEND ] for receiver to make sender’s attacker bleed. 

[ SURVIVE ] for sender to realize receiver is bleeding after getting through a fight. 

[ FABRIC ] for receiver to realize sender is bleeding after getting through a fight. 

[yourabattoir]

MEAN GIRLS (2004)

[yourabattoir]

RED DEAD REDEMPTION (2010) DIALOGUE PROMPTS

you always did think i was an idiot.

you never tried to save me before.

i implore you to think about this.

i think you're deliberately enigmatic as a substitute for having an actual personality.

you do so love to talk in riddles.

i've never met a man in a tie i can trust.

nobody made my path but me.

you keep jumping from one side of the fence to the other, you might just get impaled on it.

it seems we've reached an impasse.

i'm many things, most of them bad.

people don't forget. nothing gets forgiven.

do you want me to take out a gun and blow a fucking hole in your head?

you'll be the first to know when i kill you, i promise.

it's wanting that gets so many people in trouble.

my side ain't chosen. my side was given.

some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves.

i've always loved you.

you left me to die to save your own skin, and you expect me to care about you?

the life you lived, you don't just walk away from that.

moral degeneracy waits for no man.

some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that.

you can't change who you are.

you have no idea what you're killing for.

you never could see what i could see.

my whole life, all i ever did was fight.

i can't fight my own nature.

when i'm gone, they'll just find another monster.

[yourabattoir]

deleted my last post abt it bc i felt embarrased but like this if you'd like a one liner? and specify from whom?

[yourabattoir]

their van is full of sandwiches, hot and steamy. the leather of their seats will smell like it for days, and margot knows it sticks to their clothes, too, buried under fresh cologne and shampoo. they remove their sunglasses to look at @inflame head-on from where they stand under the window of the truck. "nothing's vegetarian." let alone vegan. "i'm sorry. i forgot this is the west coast." where even food drives serve tofu, probably.

[yourabattoir]

"it was," tony clears his throat. "what i was getting at, anyway."

she's endearing, tony decides. it's unfortunate that he's in her life now, that his claws are in and that he's not leaving for the duration, anyway. because as much as he entertains the notion of a world with no tit-for-tat, of friendship without stipulation, it doesn't exist.

"am i really that off-putting to you?" his tone is light, though he raises a brow expectantly. "i won't come in without an invitation. as long as the appropriate parties see us enough to understand--i don't give a shit. how's that sound?"

hook, line, and sinker.

"you got that look in your eyes. i know that you want something," he raises his fork at her, "don't be shy."

WHY IS HE THE ONE WHO GETS TO RAISE HIS HANDS IN SELF DEFENSE? She doesn't ever feel equipped enough to be on the offensive in any social context—especially not with him. (There's a flash of a thought: he's dangerous, not to be fucked with.)

"I wasn't trying to say that," she manages, a little desperate, a little confused. Why is he smiling at her? Is something funny? This doesn't seem like a funny situation, but there's still so much about his life that she doesn't understand. "But I know it's what you were getting at."

And if they get at this publicly, she'll have is appreciation. And whatever else she might want. The hustler in her is already calculating an appropriate fee.

But wait a second, here.

Giving Tony an alibi implies she'll have to lie to someone. Probably law enforcement, maybe even a court. Perhaps other people just as dangerous, not-to-be-fucked-with as Tony. Does she really want to dig into that lie by accepting a bribe for it? And also:

"Do you actually have to—come? — come by?"

[yourabattoir]

"you fuck us once, shame on us. you fuck us twice, shame on you." ↪ the return. / @luminescenc1e

"who is this us, eve?"

it comes across as mocking—and it is, because of course it is, they're never caught in an instant where they do not mock—but it's a genuine question, too. because what "we" exists for eve polastri that is not the two of them?

they lean against eve's poor excuse for a counter, arms crossed almost petulantly. unlike eve's home in london, this space is small, leaving little to no space between them. they suppose they've had enough of that these past two years.

a brow raises. "you and who? you and niko? you and carolyn marten? no. it's me and you. you and me."

they think about eve backing away, about eve leaving them, and a swell of emotion rises in them that they can't name. not enough to pull a gun on her this time, no, because they'd made their choice on the bridge, and it'd been each other, but in their defense, eve started it.

"you forget, you fucked me, too." their nostrils flare, but they will themself to turn their lips upward in a practiced, impish smirk. water under the (proverbial) bridge by now, or it should be, but the bite of abandonment is far too deep to stifle. "and not in the way that i wanted you to."