#the Unspeakable Horrors this man has commited

[eeveekitti]

this deranged, fluffy man will forever haunt my dreams

anyway, meet carousel, one of the main characters in a story i will literally never do shit with!! isnt that great ive redrawn this thing twice within 6 months lmao [old versions under the cut!]

the first redraw

the very cursed original drawing

#digital art #furry #furry art #technically #oc #oc art #original character #dont know how else to tag this #he just kinda there #existing #evilly #the Unspeakable Horrors this man has commited #lemme tell ya

[ddejavvu]

don't mind me i'm just thinking about how Eddie Munson would SO pretend to be someone you know if you come up to him in a store or so and whisper to him how this guy has been creeping you out for ages 'n he would take to his role so well 😭 i need to shift dimensions I need to be with this guy

i'd commit unspeakable horrors to be his girlfriend

--

You almost feel bad practically tackling the man from behind. All he was doing was grabbing a can of soup off of the shelf, and you made him your impromptu best friend.

He lurches forward at the contact, and turns to look at you with fire in his eyes. You're absolutely certain he's going to scold you, but he sizes you up at his eyes soften slightly. He raises one eyebrow, a silent 'what the fuck do you want?' and you ramble breathlessly.

"Please pretend you're my friend," You whisper, the squeaky wheels of the cart you're dreading the owner of coming towards you down the aisle, "He's following me and I don't know what to do."

He doesn't even blink. His face doesn't shift in the slightest, and for a quick moment you're unsure whether he heard you at all. But his arm curls around your own, and he spins you to face the soups.

"-so I was thinking chicken and stars, but R2-D2 absolutely kills as a noodle," He drawls, ringed fingers gesturing vaguely at each can that he names, "'S whatever you want, babe."

You hear your supermarket stalker's wheels squeak to a stop at the end of the aisle, and you don't dare turn to see his face. You'd prefer never to see it again, a reminder of the lewd comment he'd made in the produce section about melons.

"Star Wars," You decide, plucking the can off of the shelf and handing it to him, "Uh, thank you."

"Now we need," He squints at his list, tongue poking out of his mouth and sticking to his upper lip, "Ritz crackers, and chicken for tomorrow night."

He mimes looking for the crackers, noticing the man standing at the end of the aisle, waiting.

"Oh, sorry," He lifts the back wheels of the cart with the handle, scooting it sideways so that the man can pass, though you both know he doesn't want to, "Were we in your way? Go ahead, we're gonna be here for a while."

The man stares at you, you can feel it. But your new best friend sets a hand gently, politely on the small of your back, leading you around him and sandwiching you between the aisle and him. He holds the list out in front of you, "Babe, can you tell what that says? Can't even read my own writing," He laughs good-naturedly, "I think it says 'blueberries'?"

"Or blub errands," You try deciphering his messy scrawl, weight lifting from your shoulders as the man finally decides to move, crossing your path and bumping the wheel of your new cart as he does.

"Definitely blub errands," The boy beside you snickers, glancing at the reflective panel of the aisle beside him to watch for when the man finally turns a corner, "Some nice improv, babe."

You're not sure why he's still using the nickname, the man is out of earshot. But you're too relieved to care, physically relaxing as your shoulders slump.

"Oh my god," You let out a much bigger breath than you intend to, almost dizzying yourself, "Thank you so much. I just- he was always there and I didn't know what to do! I'm sorry I almost knocked you over," You turn sheepish, eyeing his ankle that you're fairly certain he'd twisted in the meetup, "Are you okay?"

"You're fine," He waves off your apology, rolling the ankle in question with a cheeky grin, "I'm tough."

"You look it," You eye him up and down, a silver chain dangling from his belt that's almost covered by a leather jacket, "Do you have, like, a really big tattoo of a heart with a knife through it on your arm? Bonus points if it says mom."

He laughs incredulously, shrugging the shoulder of his jacket off to prove you wrong, "Uh, no, but thanks for the idea."

You let out a laugh, something that seems impossible considering how scared you just were, but one that comes naturally. The boy you'd found seems to be the type you'd go for both in and out of a life-threatening scenario, and you're starting to wonder if you'll get this lucky with any real relationships you're in.

"Well, listen," He stuffs the list in his pocket, a scrap of the paper sticking out, "I've only got a few more things. If you want, we can check out together," He motions towards the hand-held basket you're holding, "'Cause I don't think that guy's gone. I'd offer you a ride home," He reaches a hand up to scratch aimlessly at the nape of his neck, "But I drive a van, and I think me asking you to get into it would be creepier than anything that guy did."

"It's okay!" You assure him, a light laugh escaping you at his earnestness, "I'm sure I'll be fine driving home. But seriously, thank you," You smile at him, clutching the handles of your basket tighter in an effort not to hug him, "I really appreciate this."

"Anytime, babe." There's that nickname again, paired with the grin you'd seen before, "Now come walk with me, you're helping me find the blub errands."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fanfiction

[soufflegirl]

I love Roy Mustang, because usually the "charming and morally ambiguous™" guy of the situation is that detached, cold, emotionally unavailable character who only shows his emotions in extreme circumstances. And then there is Roy, who is this pathetic moron who constantly picks fights with his 15-year-old employee and is useless on rainy days because his alchemy ,, does not work. And he is also this character who loves so fiercely that his affection for his loved ones is his greatest strength and also his greatest weakness. Roy does not want to rise to power because he desires power itself, but his ambition is dictated purely by a desire to establish a system in which people can protect each other so that he can in turn protect the people he loves.

The villains' way of neutralizing Roy the moment he becomes inconvenient is to dismember his team and place his subordinates in the four corners of the country and take his lieutenant hostage. What keeps Roy sane after Ishval are his friends - and also his plans, but mostly his friends. And when he collapses in Lab 3 after the fight with Lust, his first thought is to make sure Riza is all right and then send help for Havoc. When he re-emerges from the Gate and is blind, his first thought is to ask Riza how her injuries are. When he has a chance to recover his sight, he decides to do so only after Havoc is healed. Roy is absolutely destroyed by his best friend's death and he's consumed by the desire of revenge, and yet what stops him from crossing the line is the idea of losing the other person he loves the most.

Roy is an extremely complex character, a flawed man who has committed unspeakable horrors and unforgivable monstrous deeds and has paid dearly for his naiveté and idealism, yet that desire to protect people that drove him to enlist in the first place has never gone away and that's what keeps him moving forward. In Ishval he betrayed all his ideals, he betrayed himself, he betrayed Riza and the memory of his teacher and the very concept of alchemy in which he believed, but that part of him that wanted to protect people did not die. And when he comes back to East City and decides to start climbing the ranks, he hides his ambitions from his superiors basically by continuing to be the idiot and lazy and womanizer colonel who hates paperwork and dicks around in the office. And everyone falls for it, and meanwhile he quietly manages to become a freaking colonel at 29 !! I love this pathetic jerk so, so much.

#roy mustang #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #fma #fma:b #fmab #meta #colonel idiot has my heart

[scribbledghost]

Midnight Musings

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (gender neutral, no Y/N)

Rating: T

Word count: 1,364

Warnings: Simon's thoughts about himself should probably be a warning in and of itself tbh

Note: This is. Kinda dark? But I'm very attached to the idea of Simon being completely obsessed with his lover and feeling kinda bad about it. So have some rambling thought exploration/character study.

It is a cold, rainy evening when Simon Riley comes to terms with the ugliest part of himself; four cigarettes and three glasses of bourbon deep into his own pity party. He listens to the rain beat on the window pane, carefully pondering his reflection. And just like most other times when he is left to his own devices, his thoughts wander to you as you sleep in your shared bedroom down the hall.

You. The whole catalyst for all this. The whole reason for his evening binge.

Well, perhaps not the whole reason. He still holds blame for a good portion of it. Or maybe he holds blame for all of it. His brain is mildly hazy by this point.

You. You, who is always so good to him. You, who never pushes him further than he wants to bend, but pushes him nonetheless. You, who makes him a better person, a better man, a better human.

You, who deserves so much more than some broken, fucked up soldier.

And him, in his infinite selfishness, who refuses to let you go.

He could. He could break things off, could return to the shadows, could force you to forget him and move on and find someone better.

He stares coldly at his reflection some more.

He could. He should. But he won't.

Worthless bastard, he thinks to himself. No better than your father.

Rationally, he knows that's not true. Not entirely, anyway. He knows you'd rip him a new one if you heard him say as much. He's never laid a hand on you in malice, never come home stumbling drunk and looking for a fight. He's never terrorized you and taken perverse glee in your fear.

But he's held you down. Held you back. Kept you from finding something - someone - better.

And he can't stop himself.

Furthermore, he doesn't even know if he wants to stop himself. He knows he should have the desire to. But again, just as every time before it, his moth flutters to your flame.

The peace you bring him is addictive. He hones in on it and seeks it out more than he does a smoke after a rough op. Just today he had spent most of his evening laid atop you on the couch as you cradled his head to your chest. He'd dozed off several times as you'd lightly scratched at his scalp, the feeling of your hands and the sound of your gentle heartbeat lulling him back to a reality away from the violence and death of the battlefield.

You never ask him much about where the task force calls him to, or what it bids him to do when he's away. Most of your inquiries consist of whether or not he's injured (usually), if the team had been successful (depends on your definition), and if he needs a warm meal or a shower (always).

He should be in bed with you right now. He should have your back pulled close to his chest with a thick arm wrapped around your middle, resting peacefully in the notion that he was home and you were safe.

Then again, the status of your safety is what set him down this line of thinking to begin with. It's the impetus for the ugliness he's trying so desperately to overcome.

The deep, dark, disgusting part of him that needs to protect you to an unhealthy degree.

The part of him that sometimes wants to simply keep you in a cage, a beautiful songbird just for him and only for him. The part of him that wants to hide you away from the world, away from the horrors that exist and follow him across the globe.

The part of him that would commit unspeakable atrocities in your name if your safety and happiness hung in the balance. You could snap your fingers and Simon would burn the world down for you.

And that terrifies him.

The affection he has for you tilts and sways dangerously into obsession, and despite the fact that he feels like it's less than healthy, he can't bring himself to change. He can only bring himself to care.

Simon does not dwell on the fact that he loves you to a borderline dangerous degree. "Love" is not a word that really features in his vocabulary, anyway. It seems trite to him. Overused. Diluted.

Perhaps "devotion" would be a better term. A blinding worship that he would not know how to extract himself from even if he wanted to.

He wonders, not for the first time, if this only adds to the multitude of reasons you would be better off without him. He does his best to keep his darker desires under several locks and keys, does his best to give you every ounce of freedom and independence you need and deserve. But a gnawing pit in his stomach sends the sour taste of alcohol and anxiety clawing up his throat.

Simon Riley is not a good man, he realizes, despite how he has fooled you to think otherwise.

How long until his self-control stumbles and he lashes out at someone you care about for some imagined slight? Will time pass quietly only for him to one day realize he has isolated you without intending to?

Would you even tell him he was overstepping to begin with? Or would his manipulations be so subtle that not even he could see them happening?

He doesn't know the answer to any of these questions, and the notion makes him nauseous.

You are the first truly good thing in his life since the loss of his family, and he knows he has latched onto you with an iron grip because of it. It is because he is so afraid to lose you, so afraid that you will suffer because of who he is, that he can see himself fulfilling his prophecy despite the vicious fight he puts up against it.

He wonders what you would tell him if he divulged any of this to you. Something tells him you would reassure him that he is not a monster, that wanting your loved ones safe and happy is not a crime. He is sure you would say that you know he would never clip your wings and cage you, that you'd tell him if he started becoming overbearing. You have in the past, after all.

And yet, despite your gentle voice of reason ebbing into his mind, Simon still can't bring himself to believe a word of it.

Perhaps it's because of the loathing he holds for himself.

Or perhaps it's because he knows himself. At least, he thinks he does.

He's toxic. A radioactive material that is at risk of contaminating you every time you interact with it.

And yet, he cannot bring himself to leave you.

His desire to protect you, to serve you, to be anything you need him to be, completely overrides any sense of rationality he holds when it comes to you.

He sighs, stamping his cigarette out in the ashtray before downing the rest of his drink. The rain still pours beyond the window, and a chill has seeped into the air.

He has left you to sleep alone for too long.

Simon creeps through the house, turning off lights and triple checking door and window locks as he moves. He comes upon your bedroom in practiced fashion, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple as you sleep. A soft sound leaves you, and you adjust slightly beneath the covers before your breathing evens out once again.

He changes quickly into a loose shirt and a pair of sweatpants before climbing into bed behind you. As if on cue, you shift backwards towards him, and he meets you halfway as he puts an arm around you and pulls you back to his chest.

He presses a soft kiss to the back of your head before resting his forehead in the same place.

Part of him knows he is a monster.

And yet, part of him wonders that if someone like you loves him, then maybe he's not as much of one as he thinks.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles

[notbecauseofvictories]

Halloween Week of Horror (Games)

It’s that most horrible time of year, and I've decided to explore the spooky world of text-based games. My list of games is cribbed from this post and this post.

GAMEIFY HORROR // DAY 1

DAY 2: 13 laurel road, unbecoming, what girls do in the dark, the open house, return

13 laurel road 

an interactive fiction game about the relationships we have with places and reconciling with trauma. You play as a young man named Noah who has been tasked with picking up some things from his cousin’s old house.

This one was surprisingly affective, given that there is no objective horror—no jumpscares, no mysterious noises, no ghosts beyond the perfectly ordinary ones that plague all of us.

Still, the set up (a young man, tasked with grabbing some things from the old family house) and the conclusion (coming to terms with the intergenerational cycles we fall into, giving you the chance to break free from them) worked wonderfully for me. In particular, I liked the way the game conveyed Noah's internal conflict---the refrain of "I won't think about that," and the way that you as a player aren't quite clear who is still alive as you move through the abandoned family home.

...I am a little disappointed that there weren't ghosts though.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 1/10, mostly for ambient horror and decay

OVERALL GRADE: B-

unbecoming

a sonically-textured interactive horror fiction exploring cycles of trauma and unspeakable forces of nature in a mythic rural American landscape.

Well, damn. I think that’s the second time I’ve put that in my notes, but also—damn. Damn does this game deserve it. Despite the lack of images (just text, white and sharp except when bleeding into red) it felt extremely well-realized, lived in. Maybe it's just because I know these places, have been to these farms, have looked at Dust Bowl photographs of children on buckling front porches, but the scenery was its own character---which is amazing when there's no actual scenery.

Not to mention that the story gets into one of my soft places and digs---the fraught ritual and cycles of repeated harm; the kind of blurry boundaries that make such effective horror. Family as obligation and a horror story you can't always escape. Not to mention how the gameplay makes you complicit in continuing that horror...

SPOOKY LEVEL: 5/10, not necessarily overtly, but uh. There is a giant hungering pit, and corpses in beds.

OVERALL GRADE: A-

what girls do in the dark

This little game is based off one of the greatest fears they had as a teenage girl: showing up late to a stranger’s slumber party.

Of all the games on this list, this was the first one that—as soon as the credits rolled—I immediately wanted to play again. I wanted to see if I could get a different ending, if I could somehow "win." There’s just something about those haunting scraps of “maybe you could have saved yourself...” that tantalize you, and make you want to try for a happier ending.

....not to mention that I have a well-documented weakness for deals with the devil.

I'll also add that the almost MS DOS style prompts ("TAKE [ITEM]" "OPEN DOOR") were devastatingly effective; a way of narrowing your choices while also giving you the illusion of choice.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 3/10, given the blood and the creeping horror

OVERALL GRADE: A-

the open house

We at Northtree Real Estate (in partnership with Optix Dynamix Labs) are proud to present our new, state-of-the-art, open house simulator!  Come and take a quick tour of 15615 Hollow Oak Lane, a familiar and comfortable showcase home in one of our premier developments!

This particular game is just cool as hell. As someone who (like many millennials) has been addicted to Zillow and other house-hunting websites, this landed with immediate effect. What if scrolling through virtual walkthroughs on your local house hunting website opened up a portal to the unknown? What if it showed murders immediately after they were committed? What if, as you go further and further into this virtual house, you were going out---into something vast, unknown, and chilling?

Amazing, clever, wonderful.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 5/10, largely for unreality and a couple creepy images that still linger with me.

OVERALL GRADE: A

return

a text-based horror game about coming home

The more of these games I play, the more it becomes clear that what I like is horror that verges on the inexplicable—dream logic and images that refuse to resolve into reasonableness. I loved that here: the static, the mycelium, the pier with its strange dead-already fish, the self that guides you through the next cycle. What does it say about our horror stories if there is no going home? If it's just cycles of returning and rebirth and horror we can't escape?

(Sidenote, I am in love with Carver, and the little bit woven in about cybernetic/android assistive devices was tantalizing.)

Again, it's amazing how these text-based games manage to convey so much, so richly, with just words. Or maybe I just have an overactive imagination.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 7/10, just because the sense of unreality is so strong, I wouldn't recommend it for anyone who doesn't enjoy that

OVERALL GRADE: B

#gameify horror #the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind

[virtualcarrot]

[KKIR] Modern AU - Teaching Pains Pt3

Part 2

Prompt 3: Crushes

.

Not one to forget his manners, Iruka takes the time to thank Izumo for his update on the latest developments before stomping up the hallway with a resounding scream.

"Kakashi-sensei !”

The door damper at the teachers’ lounge is a familiar enemy to him. He still gives it the good old college try, but as usual there’s only frustration to be found instead of any actual thudding.

Still, his entrance is impactful enough that Suzume takes one look at him, adjusts her glasses, and makes herself scarce.

At the desk he’s claimed for himself, behind a small succulent and a figurine of a brown pug with a vest and headband, Kakashi perks up.

“Iruka-sensei!” he all but chirps in greeting.

“Do not ‘Iruka-sensei’ me, you know what you did. Setting fire to your classroom!” He hears his throat strangle the words in horror even as he says them. “What were you thinking?!”

“That it was an excellent teaching opportunity.’’

“A fire?!”

“In my defense, it was a controlled one.’’

“You had to put it out with a fire extinguisher!”

“Yes? that's what those are for, Iruka-sensei, it's right there in the name.”

For a brief moment, Iruka contemplates committing unspeakable acts of violence.

In the end, he pulls a chair to sag into. The backrest is low, and he sinks down with his legs spread until it meets the back of his neck. With his head thrown back, the sight of the ceiling proves to be a blessedly neutral balm to his frayed nerves.

A bit bright, though.

He throws an arm across his eyes with a groan. “Please tell me you at least cleared it with Hiruzen-sensei.”

A huff of laughter makes him fear the worst.

“I did,” Kakashi says, with the sort of casual mirth which drives Iruka to understand that Hiruzen, distracted by the study of one or another item of his personal collection of ancient books and shodō scrolls, gave some form of blanket approval.

He heaves a long sigh at the thought, slowly unwinding from his outburst. Kakashi lets him be, humming to himself as he jots down something likely unrelated to the grading he’s supposed to be doing, perhaps the answer to a crossword or the solution to one of the outlandish logic puzzles he’s fond of tearing out of magazines. Some fights aren’t worth the bother, Iruka has learned over the months since they started working together. He can let the man have some hobbies. So long as Kakashi’s writing then he’s not busy reading tawdry erotica out in the open.

Iruka lifts his arm tiredly to shoot an accusing look.

“You're going to give me so many gray hairs,” he complains.

Going by the creases of his visible eye, the idea seems to amuse Kakashi greatly. “Can’t say I see what's so wrong about that.”

And, saying that, he tilts his head in a way that makes his own hair flutter.

The sight is almost entrancing, gravity defying spikes catching the light in thin threads of silver. Of course Kakashi doesn't mind having gray hair. It suits him, in a roguish way, gives him an air of distinction that is far too appealing.

Shit.

Iruka’s been getting far too comfortable.

He pulls himself into a more conventional sitting form. Kakashi seems to take that as a sign he’s open to communicate with.

“Admit it,” he taunts, crow’s feet tight at the corner of his eye, “you wish you’d seen it.”

Iruka gives him a flat look to make up for the smile he can't hold back in response and he takes possession of the #1 Dog pencil-holder mug on the desk in retaliation. “I still might. By tonight, someone will have uploaded it, if it hasn’t already been, boasting about having the coolest teacher ever.”

Kakashi’s eye loses all playfulness. “Jealous?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a dig at Iruka. If anything, in the sudden weight of his gaze, Iruka could almost see a form of concern.

“No,” Iruka lies, watching the pencils tilt as he turns the mug in his hands. “You’ve been doing good work with the kids, you know,” he adds, because that at least is true. “Naruto’s improved by leaps and bounds thanks to you. I’m glad you’re here.”

When he looks up, Kakashi’s smiling at him again. His expression looks softer, almost fond.

“They do look up to you,” Kakashi says, reaching to pick the mug and replacing it with another, which has been steaming by his elbow. “It’s just easier to work with them in small groups. I leave the wrangling of full classrooms of teens to the professionals. Couldn’t pay me to do it.”

 Iruka brings the mug to his lips, only to pull a face and away. It’s the blasted brew of their terrible coffee maker. “I don’t know how you drink this stuff without any sugar, honestly.”

“It builds strength of character,” Kakashi quips instantly, tugging down his mask as he retrieves his drink. “Which you’ve got more than enough of already,” he adds as if to reassure Iruka, barely hiding a smirk as he drinks.

Iruka can’t help the upturn of his own lips at the words.

“I wouldn’t say you’re lacking,” he says with a huff.

“Clearly you'd be wrong. Haven’t been granted my school trip yet.”

It’s a tired argument but Iruka can’t help the need to make his case yet again. It’s unclear that all parents could pay for it, for starters, and that's not taking into account the students without. While Sasuke’s grades have earned him an additional scholarship, Naruto would be absolutely devastated to be left behind.

“You know we don’t--”

“--have the funds, the school’s open to orphans, the state doesn’t cover that, yes, yes, I know,” Kakashi finishes. There’s mild frustration in his voice but he doesn’t sound argumentative. More like he gets Iruka’s point, for all that he’s not fond of what makes it true.

For that, Iruka can’t help but give him a grateful smile.

“We’re waiting for a grant. Maybe next semester,” he says.

If he’s honest, he’d quite like to go on that school trip to the observatory himself. Kakashi has pretty much sold him on its merits and, well, he’d be a very foolish man indeed to miss the opportunity of listening to a lecture by professor Hatake himself.

He shakes the thought clear from his head, and meets Kakashi’s eye.

“Did you at least re-enable the fire alarm?” he asks and watches Kakashi go very, very still.

“I wouldn't forget something like that,” Kakashi retorts, but already Iruka can see the seed of doubt taking root.

As someone known to triple check the lock on his bike, he sympathizes.

Kakashi pushes up, readjusting his mask. “And on an entirely unrelated note, I must leave you.”

“Do wipe the whiteboard clean while you’re at it,” Iruka says mercilessly, chuckling at the half-hearted wave Kakashi sends over his shoulder.

Then he’s alone.

On the desk, the coffee mug has stopped steaming. Soon, it’ll reach a wasteful point of lukewarm. And while it’s shit coffee, it’s also free energy.

Iruka pulls a few packets of sugar from the unused stash accumulating in Kakashi’s drawer, dumps them into the mug, and resigns himself to his fate.

-

Part 4

@kakairu-rocks

#kakairu valentine's week 2024 #kakairu.rocks #kakairu #kkir #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #my scrawl #naruto #fic : naruto

[mr-clow]

Overture: The rise of an imperatrix. Part 2:

Carlos was finishing some details with the camera crew while I was standing behind a square barstool covered with a silk sarong over it that gave a really tidy look. He had found a female blazer that suited me, and one of the journalists combed my hair. He might be unorthodox, but he did his job. For my plan, this was the first step, but I knew I would need someone with his abilities, maybe I had found my press minister.

Carlos – General, we are starting now. Three, two, one!

I looked at the camera, letting my madness run amok in my eyes and words, took a deep breath and hoped that this would have the consequences I desired:

I stand before you today not as a politician, nor as a general, but as a mother who has witnessed unspeakable horrors inflicted upon her daughters, her people, and her beloved land. I am Jeanette Iceni, and I carry with me a heart heavy with grief and a soul ablaze with righteous fury.

These invaders from foreign worlds, have shown us no mercy. They have trampled upon our sacred soil, desecrated our homes, and torn apart the flesh and spirit of our families. My heart weeps for what has been done to them, the innocence stolen, the dignity crushed. We have seen our kin subjected to the cruellest of fates, their bodies massacred, their spirits broken, all by the hands of these heartless aliens.

I stand here today, not in grief alone, but in defiance! We shall not bow to the cruelty of these oppressors. No! We shall rise against them, and with the strength of our ancestors and the fire that burns within us, we shall make them rue the day they set foot upon our sacred world!

They thought they could conquer us, subdue us, break us. But they have underestimated the power of a united people who are willing to fight for their freedom, their honour, and the future of their children. We are the descendants of warriors, the sons and daughters of this great world, and we shall not be silenced.

As an old queen of ages, I saw everything that I held dear ripped away by invaders that hold nothing more than greed upon themselves. I will take the name Boudica, as I will not rest until they have paid for the pain they inflicted upon us or until I am dead.

Our vengeance shall be as relentless as the cruelty of the void. We shall strike back with the force of a thousand storms, and every drop of alien blood spilled upon our hands will be a testament to their wickedness and our unwavering resolve.

Let them hear our battle cries echo through the ages! Let them tremble in fear as they face the fury of humanity! We will fight until every alien invader is cast out of our system, cast out of our worlds, until justice is served for the atrocities committed against our kin, our children, and until we can once again hold our heads high in honour.

My people, our struggle is not in vain. It is a flame that shall burn in the annals of history, a beacon of hope for all who yearn for freedom and justice. Let our enemies know that we are not to be trifled with, for we are the indomitable spirit of humanity, and we shall prevail!

Onward, my warriors! Onward to victory and the reclamation of our land, our dignity, and the honour of our children!

I looked at Carlos who looked at me speechless and softly touched the back of the camera man. As soon as he stopped the broadcast, Carlos said “What the hell did I do” to which I only smiled wickedly and fainted.

I woke up with Carlos slapping me, shouts filling the room and a loud sound that made the room reverb. I grabbed Carlos hand instinctively, looked around and pointed to a chair. He helped me to sit, and I move my head towards the door. 

Boudica – Let them in, they are doing their job as you did. Everything else is upon the people you helped me reach and the hearts I touched.

Carlos – You are going to be executed for insubordination. I cannot let you go.

Boudica – You did as you had to. Let them, as I greet death with open arms.

Carlos gave the order to the people holding the door to back off and let them in. As soon as they opened the lock, a brigade of the military forces rushed in, held everyone against the wall and took me as a madman outside the room. I was being dragged through corridors where people saw me with emotions running down their faces. As soon as they stepped into an open space, where refugees were staying, I yelled, for all of them to hear.

“Will this be all? This is the only fight we are going to give? To bow down our heads and dragged ourselves through the mud”

A soldier put his hand on my mouth, stopping me, but it was enough. The sea of people that a second before were lamenting and liking their wounds now had their sight set upon the soldiers that were dragging me. One after the other, they stood up, blocked their path and when one of them tried to move them apart two more appeared to block the path until the soldiers stopped and released me. Scared for their lives, their instinct told them to let me go and retreat.

I won’t say that the revolt was peaceful, but only a hundred lives were lost on it. Less than 48 hours later I was seating on the command room, all the opposition dead and everyone that abandoned their post willingly waiting for a ship to earth.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #humans are space orcs #humans are space aussies #The bloody imperatrix

[kabbal]

I got tagged by @belphegor1982 and almost forgot to do it because it got buried in notifications 😭 i"m sorryyyyyyy

3 ships : only three??? gee what a cruel question. I guess i will point towards my latest obsessions and shove the rest of the pile under my bed

Zoro/Sanji from One Piece. It's funny to come back to my teenage obsessions to see my taste in ships has drastically changed. I did not ship these two when i was 13 but i sure do now. They're the wings of the future Pirate King. They can't spend two minutes next to each other without trying to cave each other's skull in. They're each other's best friend and they will never admit it. They're a pragmatist/Idealist duo. They always disagree except on the essential. Also the idea of Sanji having to cope with the fact that he's attracted to a man is extremely funny to me.

Ghost/Soap from Call of Duty. My favourite war criminals<3 They're fun they're deadly they commit unspeakable acts on the daily. They nag each other on comms and probably had sex next to a corpse at least once. They're a piece of propaganda from the military industrial complex and i almost forgive them.

Gideon/Harrow from the Locked Tomb. I'm just starting with these two, only started reading Gideon the Ninth but oooooh god. They're obsessed with each other. They hate each other's guts. They want to climb each other so bad. They're a jock x goth pairing. They have witnessed the Horrors together hand in unlovable hand. I can't wait to see more of them.

First ship : Cobra and Kinana from Fairy Tail. The CHOKEHOLD these two had on 12yo me was insane. They were the reason I started reading fanfic (on ffnet at the time because the French fandom for Fairy Tail was insanely good over there). They're your typical edgy redempted villain x sweet girl on the hero's side. Except she was his snake for ten years. But don't worry about that.

I still love them SO MUCH for nostalgia alone (and for some scenes that I maintain were objectively good).

Last Song : the Chicago soundtrack but especially "All I Care About Is Love" and "When You're Good To Mama"

Last Movie : Chicago (2002) and it's a fucking banger but everyone knew that already. Sexy ladies, lies and jazz, what can i ask more??? here, have another gif

Currently watching : i'm kind of between shows at the moment, I watched netflix's live action One Piece and I know Call of Duty Modern Warfare III is coming next month so i'm living in my fanfic bubble not watching too many new things

Currently consuming : my own nose juice because i've got a cold i'm sick i can't breathe leave me alone

Currently craving : these.

tagging @kaantt @dagss @suzhhou

#tag game

[secretceremonials]

There are few words that can express my love for Jago’s Cassandra

It’s genuinely one of the few modern depictions that I really like, because it really captures the emotion and violence of her rape. Cassandra is basically always shown as beautiful, with her long ropes of red hair standing as the only evidence that she is suffering greatly.

In these two paintings by Solomon and Tischbein, the same scene is shown. Ajax drags Cassandra from the altar. He is a strong man, still looking heroic, while Cassandra is a weak, frail, beautiful woman, dressed (or tactically undressed) in white to show her purity and innocence, with her face either hidden or kept neutral, allowing us to ignore the horror of what is happening to her.

Even when she is on her own, she generally has a fully vacant expression, like in De Morgan’s portrayal. Contrast that with the scream of anguish we see in Jago. Cassandra is a deeply tragic figure who has been through so much trauma. He doesn’t allow us to ignore this, and instead shows her pain. He also shows the extreme violence of the hand gripping het breast, and while I generally don’t like nudity in rape depictions as it normally seems to fetishize the act, but it is neutralized by her expression, the violence and the sweat slicking the hair to her face, showing that this is not supposed to be a beautiful scene. Instead, I find her nudity, especially combined with Ajax’s makes the scene more raw and almost primal. Ajax seems animalistic, naked and committing an unspeakable act, while Cassandra’s clothes and being removed from her, offering her no protection, in the same way that society and human laws such as the right to sanctuary failed to protect her.

The only other depictions that I think come close to showing this much emotion are Sandys’ Cassandras, where she looks to be in distressed and screaming out prophecies. I love these paintings dearly, they really capture emotion that is so integral to understanding Cassandra as a character, and I had never before seen that emotion when she is shown with Ajax.

I have nothing against art where Cassandra is not shown to be in distress, but I get frustrated when depictions of her trauma focus more on making her pretty than showing her grief.

#cassandra #cassandra of troy #jago #art #Trojan war #tw rape

[edoro]

May I ask for your extremely normal thoughts on this episode?

takes a deep breath

dissolves into a screaming puddle of goo

things i am Extremely Normal About:

-Philip's continuing obsession with Luz

-the way her insulting his fashion sense clearly GENUINELY HURT HIS FEELINGS? oh my godddd bro she is not your friend she doesn't LIKE you but that's not gonna stop him

-the way he irritatedly corrects her from 'emperor of the witch hunters' to 'witch-hunter general' this man is such a bitch and also just SO deep in his own twisted little game of make-believe like. just really zero concept of what's going on here for real.

-he is so obsessed with her it's so fucking creepy. the way that it was her crying and begging while saying his Real Name that got him to agree with her? oh my god, Philip, dude.

-the way he just unleashed 300 years of barely restrained Bitch Energy on Kiki in one moment of nuclear weapons-grade cruelty because he's tired of being nice and he DOES want to go apeshit and it like visibly immediately improved his entire demeanor, there's not even anything physically wrong with him actually he is literally just such a bitch that the sheer effort of holding it back for that long caused him to experience the symptoms of every disease ever

-GRANDPA BODY HORROR GRANDPA BODY HORROR

-"Hunter why are you hurting me :(" shut the entire fuck up oh my god i'm going to put this old man in tupperware and leave him in the back of the fridge for a year

-Caleb name reveal + ABSOLUTE BATSHIT FREAKOUT GRANDPA BODY HORROR

-the Collector is genuinely fucking terrifying. immortal godchild kidthing with unspeakable cosmic powers and 0 concept of morality or that other people are real or can be hurt or that his actions have consequences. i love him so much. genuinely so much more frightening than Philip's banal malice tbh.

-the Collector is So Fucking Traumatized this kid is so fucked up holy shit they are NOT okay. cannot imagine what the last 300+ years of having no one but Philip "molestation Georg*" Wittebane for company has done to them

(*lives in a cave and has groomed or attempted to groom every child he's ever met jesus FUCKING christ someone put this man in a jar and put the jar in a lead-lined box at the bottom of the sea)

-The Collector Is My Sonthing Now. yes he has done everything wrong ever no i don't care.

-EVIL BODY HORROR GRANDPA GETTING TWIRLED UP LIKE A FORKFUL OF SPAGHETTI AND THEN SPLORCHED. "i'm not even mad tho" man he knew he had fucked up, i love how we finally got to see Philip Experiencing A Consequence

-obsessed with how brutal and unceremonious that was tbh. like. i was just sitting there like Is He Actually Fucking Dead. Is That How They Disposed Of Philip. Oh My God. everyone else watching in utter horror because that was incredibly fucked up. the way Hunter was crying about it because That Was His (evil and unspeakably abusive sure but still) Uncle and that's so fucked up for him to have to see. his hesitance in stepping in the goop puddle. the malicious goo dribble ugh ugh ugh Leave Him Alone Philip Please.

-GOO GRANDPA IN THE HUMAN REALM WHAT CRIMES WILL HE COMMIT

-i love Raine ripping off Eda's arm. i feel like, you know the bit where Darius stopped fighting bc Healing Coven Head was about to kill Eberwolf? i think Raine would have done the math on how quick they could get the replacement Beastkeeping Coven Head up there now that it was all underway and Belos was gone vs how much longer til the eclipse was over and decided they could bear that moral weight on their conscience forever if it meant they and everyone else lived to see the end of this

-GUS? CRYING?? THE WAY HUNTER WAS PROTECTIVELY HOLDING HIM? THEY MEAN SO MUCH TO ME AUUUUGH

-SNEAKY KIKI SNEAKY KIKI god i love her she's so horrible and so good and i simply adore her

-the pit of like DOZENS OF MURDERED GOLDEN GUARDS okay. what is WRONG with Philip like what happened to his brain to make him this way.

-the way they left Alador behind like he was going to Divert The Horde in a zombie movie LMAO it's okay Amity. it's better this way. now you can pretend he would have been a good dad instead of having to live with the ongoing realization that even his best would be crushingly mediocre.

-Alador trying to hit Hunter with the "loyal soldier of the Emperor" accusation and then trying to dad voice him immediately afterwards when that doesn't work. sir. pick one. also lmao love the Shit Dad Driving Experience. terrible driver gets mad when you point it out and actively endangers all of you because now he's distracted yelling at you. his Shit Dad Energies are just so huge, i love it.

-i'm just obsessed with Philip and the Collector oh my god. horror horror horror. there is so much wrong with both of them and they're so fucked up together jfc. never going to get over it.

-it took me literally four hours to watch the episode.

#toh spoilers #csa mention #sorry i can't. not talk about it like. philip's groomer energy in this one is off the charts #asks

[rockislandadultreads]

NoveList Combo: Creepy & Atmospheric 

Did you know NoveList is a database you can access with your library card to find reading recommendations? Find your next favorite read with this fantastic readers tool! Check it out on our website here.

All Hallows by Christopher Golden

It’s Halloween night, 1984, in Coventry, Massachusetts, and two families are unraveling. Up and down the street, horrifying secrets are being revealed, and all the while, mixed in with the trick-or-treaters of all ages, four children who do not belong are walking door to door, merging with the kids of Parmenter Road. Children in vintage costumes with faded, eerie makeup. They seem terrified, and beg the neighborhood kids to hide them away, to keep them safe from The Cunning Man. There’s a small clearing in the woods now that was never there before, and a blackthorn tree that doesn’t belong at all. These odd children claim that The Cunning Man is coming for them...and they want the local kids to protect them. But with families falling apart and the neighborhood splintered by bitterness, who will save the children of Parmenter Road?

Our Share of Night by Mariana Enríquez

A young father and son set out on a road trip, devastated by the death of the wife and mother they both loved. United in grief, the pair travel to her ancestral home, where they must confront the terrifying legacy she has bequeathed: a family called the Order that commits unspeakable acts in search of immortality.

For Gaspar, the son, this maniacal cult is his destiny. As the Order tries to pull him into their evil, he and his father take flight, attempting to outrun a powerful clan that will do anything to ensure its own survival. But how far will Gaspar’s father go to protect his child? And can anyone escape their fate?

The Ferryman by Justin Cronin

Founded by a mysterious genius, the archipelago of Prospera lies hidden from the horrors of a deteriorating outside world. In this island paradise, Prospera's lucky citizens enjoy long, fulfilling lives until the monitors embedded in their forearms, meant to measure their physical health and psychological well-being, fall below 10 percent. Then they retire themselves, embarking on a ferry ride to the island known as the Nursery, where their failing bodies are renewed, their memories are wiped clean, and they are readied to restart life afresh.

Proctor Bennett, of the Department of Social Contracts, has a satisfying career as a ferryman, gently shepherding people through the retirement process--and, when necessary, enforcing it. But all is not well with Proctor. For one thing, he's been dreaming--which is supposed to be impossible in Prospera. For another, his monitor percentage has begun to drop alarmingly fast. And then comes the day he is summoned to retire his own father, who gives him a disturbing and cryptic message before being wrestled onto the ferry.

Meanwhile, something is stirring. The Support Staff, ordinary men and women who provide the labor to keep Prospera running, have begun to question their place in the social order. Unrest is building, and there are rumors spreading of a resistance group--known as "Arrivalists"--who may be fomenting revolution.

Soon Proctor finds himself questioning everything he once believed, entangled with a much bigger cause than he realized--and on a desperate mission to uncover the truth.

The Secrets of Hartwood Hall by Katie Lumsden

It's 1852 and Margaret Lennox, a young widow, attempts to escape the shadows of her past by taking a position as governess to an only child, Louis, at an isolated country house in the west of England.

But Margaret soon starts to feel that something isn't quite right. There are strange figures in the dark, tensions between servants, and an abandoned east wing. Even stranger is the local gossip surrounding Mrs. Eversham, Louis's widowed mother, who is deeply distrusted in the village.

Lonely and unsure whom to trust, Margaret finds distraction in a forbidden relationship with the gardener, Paul. But as Margaret's history threatens to catch up with her, it isn't long before she learns the truth behind the secrets of Hartwood Hall.

#horror #thriller #fiction #new library books #Book Recommendations #book recs #Reading Recs #reading recommendations #TBR pile #tbr #tbrpile #to read #Want To Read #Booklr #book tumblr #book blog #library blog

[one-winged-dreams]

Know what, I've had time to think about it.

Kimbles, Nel, and Bondrewd really are competing for worst man of all time in their own respective ways.

Their motives are so fucking different because like

Neltharion was doing what he thought was right no matter the consequences in a bout of, let's be honest, entirely self-centered paranoia, via being manipulated to the point of insanity (not giving him an excuse, just a REASON.) The dracthyr? Failures. The twilight flight? Failures. Not that he even took himself into the equation in that regard. Oopsie daisy, that sucked, guess I'll move on to my NEXT endeavor, fuck them kids. He's NOT a nihilist because he technically DID have a cause and sense of purpose, so the literal only excuse he had for not giving even a FIRST thought to consider the massive fuck ups he committed, is that HAHA WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE ANYWAY, thanks oldgodbama.

Bondrewd also thought he was doing what was right no matter the consequences, but what was so fucked up about it was that unlike Neltharion who didn't really care at all about who he used or discarded to get to his end goal, Bondrewd genuinely loved every single one of the children he absolutely inhumanely turned into unspeakable horrors or cartridges. Like, he was genuinely grateful for their 'contribution' and cared about every one of them in the most fucked up delusional fatherly way. Not a shred of remorse or thought that what he was doing was wrong in any way shape or form, but gratitude and love all the same.

Kimblee... Is a nihilist. Just like the other two, he doesn't feel remorse. At all. And he doesn't have any end goal to justify his atrocities. But he isn't deluded into thinking what he's doing is right. He just does what he wants, he firmly believes that whatever happens happens. Right and wrong are decided by the victor, and he has no attachment to either concept so he just wants to watch, maybe participate a little as a sort of social experiment or existential boredom or whatever.



#I HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT TERRIBLE MEN #the gift of ruin #the monster you made me #mutually assured destruction

[fearsmagazine]

NIGHT CALLER - Review

DISTRIBUTOR: 123 Go Films

SYNOPSIS: Clementine Carter is a telephone psychic who works the night shift so she can look after her invalid father. She is pulled into a complex web of mystery and murder after she receives a call from a serial killer. Predicting his murders before he commits them puts her into a terrifying game of cat and mouse. Enlisting the aid of her clairvoyant co-worker, they must use their unique abilities to stay one step ahead of a maniac whose unspeakable acts in the present, a continuation of events from his past.

REVIEW: NIGHT CALLER is a genre fans mash up of elements and plot points that offers nothing new. I’m not sure if it was intended to, but there are moments where it attempts to interject satire into the horror and comes off neither saterial or funny.

Chad Ferrin clearly has watched his share of genre films, from Hitchcock to Bill Lustig, and so many in between. He does a nice job of blending those elements, but problems arise when he attempts to add some humor. The only character where he comes close to hitting his mark is with Clementine’s invalid father Charles. The other moments lack timing and effective delivery to fall flat. There are some many convoluted twists and turns that it feels more like later in the series “Nightmare on Elm Street” or “Friday the 13th” films where you’re there to see the effects and kills and don’t really care about the story. Much of the dialogue is simply ridiculous, especially when it comes to the secondary characters but the killer’s is pretty awful as well.

The film looks like a 70’s, early 80’s slasher film. Think “Maniac” or “The Prowler.” Likewise, the effects try to re-create those moments of gore with little artistry. The film is dark at times and some of the locations look like sets on a micro budget.

I feel sorry for the actors. I get what it takes to mount a film project, especially a micro budget film. But some of these characters and the dialogue try too hard to be a homage. The cops are buffoons. I felt sorry for what Bai Ling was put through. I’ve seen her in other films and here she is reduced to a stereotype, over exaggerated, and I found it offensive, not funny. Likewise, Steve Railsback is reduced to creating a poor man’s Norman Bates who was brutalized by his father, which turns him into a girl. The majority of the time he wears this mask that blacks out his entire face so maybe viewers will forget it was him.

Look, I’m not saying that there is not a place for a film like this. I know there is an audience for it. However, you can’t retread old ground. It needs to have a bit more thought put into it, from the dialogue to the character arcs. There are better bad films out there. Plus, there is a strength to the female characters that this film disregards. It feels forced, shocking for exploitation’s sake.

NIGHT CALLER is a roller coaster of a gore fest, but that’s all there is. I could get more thrills and chills from a video game or digging a classic horror film out of my collection like “The Evil Dead,” “The Reanimator,” or 1980’s “Maniac.” Chad Ferrin’s NIGHT CALLER is a sophomoric attempt to deliver a film of the caliber previously mentioned. He gets the look right, but the rest of it is a mess. I truly feel sorry for the actors in this film and hope they were well compensated for their time. If you are going to give it a few it is not for younger audiences. I wasn’t a fan of his 2020 film “The Deep Ones,” so if you are one of the folks who posted comments on our Youtube page about the film this one is not for you either.

CAST: Susan Priver, Steve Railsback, Bai Ling, Lew Temple, Christine Nguyen, Silvia Spross, Kelli Maroney, Robert Miano, and Robert “Corpsy” Rhine. CREW: Director/Screenplay/Producer - Chad Ferrin; Producers - Robert Miano & John Santos; Cinematographer - Kyle McConaghy; Score - Richard Band; Editor - Jahad Ferif; Production Designer - Eddie Inda; Costume Designer - Edith Raya; Special Makeup Effects - Joe Castro; Motion Graphics - David DeFino. OFFICIAL: www.123gofilms.com/night-caller FACEBOOK: N.A. TWITTER: N.A. TRAILER: https://youtu.be/ouczoZivz3M RELEASE DATE: May 13th, 2022, on digital & cable platforms

**Until we can all head back into the theaters our “COVID Reel Value” will be similar to how you rate a film on digital platforms - 👍 (Like), 👌 (It’s just okay),  or 👎 (Dislike)

Reviewed by Joseph B Mauceri

#film review #movie review #night caller #nightcallermovie #123 go films #chad ferrin #susan priver #steve railsback #bai ling #horror #slasher #psychic #joseph mauceri #joseph b mauceri

[amberedcorpse]

Dilnis

Age: 31 Birthplace: In the cold depths of the ocean. Height: 5’8’’ Race: Triton Gender: Cis-Masc Genre: Fantasy (DnD 5e based and other), Scifi, Horror

ABILITIES: Sorcerer, spellcrafting

ALIGNMENT: Evil through sheer curiosity

GENERAL APPEARANCE

Unlike the merfolk, Tritons possess limbs very similar to humans, but lack any of the other anthropomorphic features which would make them less otherworldly to the people on the surface. Their skin is smooth, hued with variations of blues and purple ( though other warm toned colorations have also been observed in tropical regions). The eyes generally remain the same all throughout the species, having no distinguishable scleras or irises, though there’s no literature to suggest their vision differs from humans except for their ability to perceive better in the dark. Apart from their gills, Tritons also possess webbed feet and fins on key points of their body. The length, shape and formation of these fins differ from triton to triton, each one being wholly unique. Dilnis stands a little above the average height for most tritons. His skin is a deep shade of blue, with pink and lilac markings at different points of his body. Instead of hair, his head is crowned with sharp fins and spike-like growths over the back of his scalp. His hands end in pointed nails and his smile is lined up with sharp teeth. Despite the “strangeness” or the novelty of his appearance, most people on the surface have never felt threatened by his presence. Dilnis is in no way intimidating, but his constantly calm and expressionless face, worn even in situations of emotional duress, has stopped him from completely melding in with people above water.

PERSONALITY

Tritons are described as a proud and noble people, committed to their roles as guardians of the world’s oceans. But Dilnis is less concerned with the going ons of the world and more focused on his own whims. He’s a man driven solely by curiosity and a desire for attaining knowledge of the arcane. Magic and its many mysteries captivate his every waking moment, and there’s little stopping him from delving too deep. Where other sorcerers might stop he persists, where reason should have intervened he killed it and kept on his way. It’s only a matter of time before he finds or releases something unspeakable to sate his need for answers. Maybe he already has!

BIO

Dilnis would never speak of his upbringing, or of the monsters of the deep ocean. He would never tell people about his youth spent in the cold depths of the ocean in service of their city’s goddess. Instead, the most you would get out of him would be a brief summary of his academic positions at various universities, a list of investigations he’s helped with, an even shorter explanation as to why he’s moved so many times in his life, and nothing at all about the current state of his relationship with these institutions. The reality is that Dilnis is a remarkable researcher, but a liability waiting to happen. His urges for greater knowledge, not hidden in the slightest, are a sour note on an otherwise impressive resume. Universities have invariably hired him, but only long enough to relish in his talents without suffering the consequences of feeding the beast. So he spends his life moving from one coast to the next, swimming up rivers, feeding his curiosity wherever he’s called- thinking, waiting, wanting- yearning for even the smallest chance at the beauty and the horror of magic.

#.Dilnis #.The beauty and the horror ( Dilnis main ) #.Look past the self ( Dilnis inspo) #/my art btw

[telebisou]

Don't watch Coming Home in the Dark if you do not seriously fuck with horror film. New Zealand is trying to win the championship of fucked up white people movies from Ireland, and they didn't come to piddle around about it. It's a genre I relish, and this movie is a relentless and unforgiving fucked up white people trauma, a vicious dare of a movie. It is not lighthearted, at any time. It offers no silver linings or moments of relief.

Following the cut are complete spoilers.

The movie is an examination of each moment Tubs decides he's had enough of damn Mandrake. The scripts is so well done! It's the story Tubs.

We're given everything we need to know about how this small white man with the ridiculous self-given name of Mandrake gained control of a larger and stronger native man and assigned him the humiliating nickname of Tubs, by and by we learn it was all those years ago, in a badly run correctional boys' home.

We're told this story through a series of unforgivable crimes committed by these two men. Every reviewer I could find was blinded by the doings of Mandrake and Hoagie; Jill (Hoagie's wife) and Tubs (Mandrake's accomplice and muscle). Every reviewer I could find dismissed this movie's superb ending with one drab idea, that Tubs was only a "wtf", a deliberate ambiguity. I cannot help but read all of these reviews as profoundly numb. Possibly racist. Certainly blind to the point of the film. As if to prove my point, the actor cast as Jill has some aboriginal "darkness" in her, a native shade in her blood, and her ending, also! is largely called "ambiguous" by reviewers. What is that? What ambiguity is left to her? She is done, as done as a human could be. Everyone's life is done by the end of Coming Home in the Dark, but one.

The filmmakers show the secret protagonist's turmoil, hatred, disapproval, and ever-present ablution rites at each major beat, unfailingly. His thought processes are your thought processes, at times this is battered home with lingering silent significance-ladled shots of the face of Tubs. He hates Mandrake. He agrees with Jill's philosophical conclusion. He respects her attempted suicide, but he can't go that way. He doesn't have to speak any of this, because we're shown it in I am sorry but absolutely inarguable terms, as objective fact within the universe of this unspeakable, unbearably evil work of art.

A full fifteen minutes of screen time is devoted to the aftermath of Tubs' decision.

#coming home in the dark

[hunxi-after-hours]

《烈火浇愁》: a crash course

by priest

Summary:

When Xuan Ji is called upon to thwart a demon summoning on his first day at his new job, he begins to suspect that there’s more to this whole Bureau for Supernatural Affairs than he was led to believe. Look, all he wanted was an easy way to pay off his credit card debt, lao Xiao!

Meanwhile, someone has rudely roused Sheng Lingyuan—better known as Sheng Xiao, the unspeakably powerful warrior-emperor of ancient history—from his grave. A dark conspiracy threatens to reignite the Chiyuan, the volcanic source of all magic in the world, and Sheng Lingyuan must seal the Chiyuan once more before he can return to his eternal rest.

Forcibly dragged into the modern world, Sheng Lingyuan grudgingly partners with Xuan Ji to face the coming storm. As ancient demons reawaken, more and more questions emerge: who is trying to reignite the Chiyuan? Why can’t Xuan Ji remember anything before ten years ago? And exactly how much did the history books get wrong about Sheng Lingyuan?

When past and present, legends and lies, swords and spirits collide, even raging fires might not be enough to drown centuries of hidden sorrows.

random bullet point thoughts, in no particular order:

genre-wise I’d slide this title right into the intersection of horror/dark fantasy, urban fantasy, and, uh (squints at notes) time travel? huh I guess that happened

I am speaking as a Cosmere fan when I say that I understood, optimistically, maybe 65% of the worldbuilding

the first arc of this novel is Straight Fire. the way I yelled when Sheng Lingyuan Did That

I live for Xiao Zheng and Xuan Ji’s dynamic. “If you can talk seriously for a minute I’ll give you 100 kuai” is iconic comedy gold

the way priest handles Sheng Lingyuan dealing with modernity is simultaneously Not What You’d Expect but also Exactly What You Want

never forget Sheng Lingyuan arriving late to a fight scene because he couldn’t figure out how the elevator worked and had to resort to blasting his way through the parking structure. the man may not know Arabic numerals but he is in possession of ungodly magical abilities and is more than willing to use them

the donghua is Extremely Good and I’m not exaggerating in the slightest when I say I was animation baited into reading this 783k+ word novel. also the music is absolutely stunning

I feel like I should say something about the angst in this novel but I don’t even know where to begin. it’s like. mind-bending. heart-rending. world-ending. cosmic. comedic. disgustingly sappy. utterly shameless. bafflingly devastating

for the love of all that is good and holy I would ask someone to smash their dense heads together except there’s been literally decades worth of telepathy between these two and they STILL haven’t figured their shit out

priest really said “if you haven’t lovingly nurtured your soulmate in your spine for fifteen to three thousand years you’re not worthy of being called soulmates” and “nothing is sexier than your spiritual weapon” and “birds are vain therefore winged people are as well” and “backstabbing can be a love language too”

uhhhh I feel like the sheer quantity of war crimes and human sacrifice should get its own bullet point so here it is

no really a great deal of the novel’s thematic focus is “What Measure is a Non-Human,” what it means for a person to be forged into a weapon and what it takes for a weapon to become a person, whether it’s possible to rediscover happiness/one’s humanity despite the war crimes that you have committed and have been committed upon you, the paper-thin line between heroism and monstrosity, and the question of what—or who—you would set the world on fire for

please let Sheng Lingyuan rest. yes I am aware he is a war criminal yes I am aware that he physically does not need to sleep but consider: the man is so tired

#finally getting around to making a crash course for this novel #if only so people have slightly more context for my zero context yelling #unclear if I am enjoying this novel but I am In It Deep #spine chickens and war crimes #lhjc #烈火浇愁 #lie huo jiao chou