#tw: lethal injection

[funkyfreshinthebuilding]

so i know he has an entirely different haircut here i have this whole ass timeline of his hair where he had a death hawk/mullet typa thing in turbotime and shaved his head out of rage and malice when roadblasters got plugged in. basically dipped his toe into his emo era and then canonballed in.

also ignore that there are some smears and stuff traditional art is hard cut me some slack okay thanks like and subscribe for more

[crypt1dzday0ff]

I think the stress of exams and mold is getting to me

[positivelybeastly]

"If I ever leave the mansion wearing low-rise jeans with a thong, promise you'll mercy kill me."

"Tess, I'm not going to mercy kill y - "

He pauses for a moment, then looks at her searchingly.

". . . Wait."

"Low-rise jeans with a thong, you say? This is much more serious than I thought. I'll ready a lethal injection, just in case."

[yandere-daydreams]

Legit ended up having a dream about a robot apocalypse and robots just taking whatever human they saw nearby as pets. Like you're chosen and that was final, don't even have to know each other beforehand. It went on to show one robot that carried their human's remains after they passed. Literally just chained feet. Absolute dedication. Anyways my ass got got last second. Woke up and thought of you.

tw - mentions of death, kidnapping, forced dependence.

hmmm while i cannot speak on the ethics of robots reinventing taxidermy just to preserve and continue to maintain their former human pets (which, in the worst possible world, they'd keep in a very large, very well-adorned room for you to inevitably stumble upon), this did get me thinking about how post-apocalypse robots would acquire their humans in the first place,,, there is much to discuss ofc ofc.

the low population and unpredictable temperaments of human would take things like traditional adoption centers off the table, but i do think there'd be programs in place to get particularly docile captured humans to bots who'd malfunction without something to take care of - the automated homes and child-rearing droids, machines who wouldn't have a purpose without something delicate and mortal to keep alive. that doesn't mean they don't have preferences, though. your new caretaker is more than happy to tell you all about the other humans that have been sent to them, the ones who proved too cold or too hostile or too ungrateful to be kept around for very long. but, you're different. even if you've only just met, they're sure you're different. such a soft little thing - they know you wouldn't be able to survive on your own, and they know that once you've settled into your new life, you'll stop trying to. they'll even give you a little longer than they gave the others - a few weeks, rather than a few minutes; a handful of warnings, rather than an immediate and humane dose of some lethal compound injected directly into your carotid artery. they've already got your new wardrobe picked out and oh, humans need to sleep, don't they? they'll start working out your schedule right away. so long as you're good for them, they'll be able to take care of you for the rest of time, or at least for as long as your constantly deteriorating body will allow.

so long as you're good for them, you won't have to end up like the others.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Tw death, tw execution, tw fire arms

I think a lot of us in prison abolition advocacy spaces are going to be having conversations about the recent news of the return of state execution by firing squad and I want to go ahead and make very clear what manner of conversation I will tolerate about this:

Execution by firing squad is a form of state execution that forces both executioners and audiences to reckon more fully with the violence being enacted on a human life, and that has always been one of the things we have played on as advocates for abolishing the death penalty have leveraged in our work. But I want to remind people that this tends to ignore the level of horrific violence enacted less visibly by other forms of execution like lethal injection. I really do not want us to make the mistake of making a spectacle of the specific manner of execution here without centering the perspective that there is no such thing as a humane state execution and we absolutely cannot allow the possibility that finding a "less violent" form of state execution could be an option here.

This has been my TED talk, thank you for coming, please mind the exits

[the-suns-a-tube]

(tw: temporary suicide mechs style and also medical needles) had a dream where raph and i killed ourselves to go undetected on a space ship. we were hiding in the cargo hold and she had a bunch of lethal poison, and life signs would give us away so we just kept injecting ourselves with it to die so we wouldn't get detected. when we touched down we were still getting the poison out of our systems and went like mega silly mode. Unfortunately we got caught and assumed to be drunk, thrown in the drunk tank. drugs with Raphaella la Cognizi 10/10 would recommend

[themuffin2649]

11037

(Danganronpa Spoilers)

TW: death and violence

—————

Ding dong Bing bong

You wake up to the morning announcement and rub your sore head. Getting up from the bed, you take a shower, brush your teeth, and get changed into your usual outfit.

Brother: “Morning big bro.” He said, but not making any eye contact with you.

You then remember the movie, forbidden actions, and your brother wasn’t allowed to make eye contact with anybody. What a stupid action.

Fortunately for you, your forbidden action was more lenient, don’t smile at anybody. Because of this, the two of you have been avoiding people like the plague. This is because if you break your forbidden action, you get injected with a lethal poison on the bracelet everyone has to wear.

You meet in the cafeteria where you saw Reme specifically choose dishes that contained no candy or fruits as to her forbidden action of not eating any sweets.

Leon enters too and sits next to you, however, he only uses his left arm to operate due to his forbidden action.

You: “Man, this motive sucks.”

Leon: “Tell me about it.”

You pick up your water and take a few swigs

Ding dong Bing bong!

Wait, but the morning announcement

Click

You watch how the wristbands unlocked, and you took it off.

Brother: “Oh, t-that means.”

He didn’t finish his sentence as he ran off, yelling for Jon and Moria’s name.

Monokuma: “A body has just been discovered! Report to the Library. After a certain amount of time, the class trial will begin.”

Victor: “Vincent, where is he?!” He yells, looking around.

Oh no

Leon grabbed your arm and dragged you to the Library as quickly as possible.

Oh god no, please no.

The first thing you say was poor Moria crying while hugging Jon and everyone gathered around the body.

Victor arrived last and fell to his knees seeing his nephew’s slumped body covered in blood and stab wounds with a knife to the stomach. Behind him written in his blood were the numbers 11037.

Wait a minute, 11037, that flipped upside down meant-

Victor: “You did this didn’t you!” He screamed, suddenly grabbing Leon by the neck and pinning him down.

Everyone else scrambled to get Victor off Vincent, but you couldn’t stop dreading what this numbers meant.

[funkyfreshinthebuilding]

DEAR GOD WHY DID I MAKE THIS ALSKDFJKLSDAJFKLD

[vallxlkzal]

Need.

(tw: evil Detecive n' beaten Wally in Waldo's body 🤧)

💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔

— You will bitterly regret what you have done.

Wally stiffened, expecting another blow to his cheek, but instead his head was lifted by his chin and looked into his eyes. Wally also looked back with teary and half-covered eyes that burned with pain and tears, because this crazy Detective did not let go, did not stop hitting and interrogating. He did not stop indulging in some of his own sick thoughts, whispering to sneakily press Waldo into the ground even harder. Even harder, even more fiercely.

Something about some murders, about a dead Wenda... What the hell is going on here?

— But I didn't do anything, really... I want to go home... — Wally whimpered faintly, unable to even speak normally because of something unknown that the man had injected him with. Instead of pity, the Detective felt only more rage. And some other strange feeling that made him want to hurt this striped creature even more. Something on the level of insane addiction, inadequate, painful passion. And a desire for death, obviously.

Waldo did not admit to anything. It made the Detective angry, infuriated. Waldo also cried. It entertained. To a certain extent. He was also weak and frail. It was... exciting. Lustfully.

How could the Detective possibly know that it was not Waldo, but Wally Waldini, because they looked so much alike. You couldn't tell the difference. And there's no need to. To hell with it. The Detective saw only the serial killer he had been chasing for so many years, not a cartoon character or a book character. A serial killer who had been beaten up and pumped full of tranquilizers. This bastard was no longer smiling, not laughing madly, but was frightened and shedding big, too big even for him, hot tears that mixed with his blood and dirt.

Oh, that's the strongest tranquilizer the Detective ever had, and all that stuff was poured into Wally so that he wouldn't get away.

He won't, will he?

It is strange that the night lights around them are not flashing in fear and there are no other Waldo doubles. Perhaps this doppelganger got separated from his striped pack. And that's fine.

— You're under arrest, Waldo.

Wally opened his heavy eyelids, but he couldn't get a good look at his surroundings. He only remembered that it was a park, night, and some unknown man chasing after him and shooting. And he caught up. And he pushed him painfully to the ground. And he could not calm his very excited breathing.

— My name is... Wally Waldini, I'm not.. Waldo... — Wally groaned weakly in pain as the Detective pinned the striped creature's arms behind his back and cuffed his thin hands. For several seconds he held Wally's wrists too tightly until he finally let go.

Wally was scared and lonely in this alien universe. But most of all, he wanted to sleep. For a few seconds, he did indeed fall asleep, and lost sight of the predatory licking Detective.

The Detective was pressing his tall body to the ground with his foot and thinking about something. Should he increase the dosage? That would be lethal. It would be... fun.

But too easy. Waldo must suffer the way poor Wenda suffered before she died... Her terrible beating with a cane was imprinted in the Detective's memory as a painful wound, an incurable trauma for the rest of his life. All his life he sees the mutilated body of his beautiful late wife before his eyes and promises to repeat it with the killer. With Waldo. To repeat it twice as strongly and cruelly.

A tense hand tightens its grip on Wally's stick, and Wally tries his best to stay awake again. Wally is not human, not human at all. Rather, he is an unusual person. Just a funny slender and tall, striped creature from books and cartoons and someone's drawings. A primitive human tranquilizer works on him more moderately, not as harshly as on an ordinary, pixelated person. And the Detective is furious from this.

— Please, call Wenda, call Odlaw... Someone — everyone knows me and will confirm that I am not guilty of anything you are talking about... I'm begging you.

— Wenda? WENDA? You fucking...

One swing of the cane and a punch. That's a ridiculous impersonation of a punch.

Wait. Where's the punch?

The Detective tried again. And again. And again. The stick kept stopping in an invisible wall just a few centimeters away from Wally, and then not touching him, as if not giving the Detective a chance to do any damage.

"This fucking thing is protecting Waldo!" — the cop thought. Quite expected.

Wally closed his eyes in fear, but realized that his stick was not allowing him to be hit. It was nice and sweet, but it didn't seem to stop the angry man at all. He angrily turned Wally over on his back and grabbed him by the throat with his bare hands.

Wally tried to cover himself with his hands, but they were handcuffed. Normally, he would have easily untangled himself from this metal because he had survival skills in difficult situations, but now, when his body was not obeying and the situation was out of control, and the Detective was threatening and smiling madly, Wally was suffocating.

For the first time, he was scared, very scared. A little more and he would faint. Although his eyes darted from side to side in fright, and his hoarse cry tried to break through his thin throat, he was getting weaker.

This discovery intoxicated the Detective, captivated him. Waldo is mortal. Is he? Waldo is fucking mortal! Mortal...

The Detective's smile grew, and his heart seemed to skip a few beats. Even if it was just a double, it was still Waldo's double. Anyone can be caught. Anyone can be shot through the head. No. No... Everyone can be tortured in different ways. Everyone will die in different ways, but at the same time in a terrible way.

And the Detective finds himself stealing the last crumbs of air from "Waldo" with his cruel kiss. Bites his plump lips, which will never smile vilely again. Licks his blood, which will never again saturate this skinny body with life and the thirst for killing.

Waldo wanted this. Why is he not enjoying it now, but dying in panic? Why is there no calmness and painful frenzy in those red eyes, as there was before? Instead, there is fear. And this fear is more visible and greater than the one the Detective saw that day in the restaurant.

A little more...

A blow. Now a real, strong blow from Wally's magic stick, which hit the Detective on the head and thus made the man lose consciousness for a while, saves his owner.

The frightened Wally gradually sits up, eagerly catching air with his mouth. Fortunately, this was enough time to take off his handcuffs, take a stick and, leaning on it, try to walk away. The world around him was bending into some kind of frantic spiral, blood dripped from his broken lips and nose, and before his eyes stood a nasty pixelated kaleidoscope of a universe Wally had never seen before. It was unpleasant and made him want to vomit.

Waldini had just been kissed to death, with such hatred, with such lust, that it was incredibly scary and somehow even a little disturbing. Who was this Waldo who drive the strange Detective to such a crazy? Sometimes Wally was also called "Waldo," but he corrected them in time. This strange name was given to him by other people. And no one knows why.

— Oh, my stick, what he gave me... — the striped creature whimpered, wiping blood and tears with a dirty sweater sleeve. His glasses seemed to be cracked, but at least they weren't broken.

Wally took one last look at the man lying on the ground. He seemed to wake up and jumped to his feet.

— Stop! Fucking Waldo, stop!

With a heavy exhalation, Wally opened a portal to his world, crossing the pixel boundary and taking away the Detective's ability to even catch up, as the portal slammed shut in front of him. He didn't even have time to get his gun.

— I'm not coming back there again, — Wally said quietly to his stick and went to the bathroom to wash off all the dirt, both physical and emotional.

***

(Ukrainian version before translation, if anyone is interested in the original bruuuuuh 🤜🤜🤜🤜):

— Ти гірко пошкодуєш про те, що зробив.

Волі замружився, очікуючи нового удару по щоці, але замість цього його голову підняли за підборіддя і дивились в очі. Воллі також дивився у відповідь заплаканими і напівприкритими очима, що пекли від болю і сліз, бо ж цей шалений Детектив не відпускав, не припиняв бити і допитуватися чогось. Не припиняв потурати якимось власним, хворим думкам, нашіптуючим крадькома втиснути Валдо в землю ще міцніше. Ще дужче, ще лютіше.

Щось про якісь вбивства, про мертву Венду... Що взагалі тут відбувається?

— Але я нічого не робив, правда... Я хочу додому... — Воллі слабко скиглив, не в змозі навіть нормально говорити з-за чогось невідомого, що вколов йому цей чоловік. Замість жалю, Детектив відчував лиш більшу лють. І ще якесь дивне почуття, що змушувало кривдити це смугасте створіння ще більше. Щось на рівні безумної залежності, неадекватної, болючої пристрасті. І бажання смерті, очевидно.

Валдо ні в чому не зізнавався. Це злило, бісило. А ще плакав. Це розважало. Певною мірою. А ще був слабкий і немічний. Це... збуджувало.

Звідки Детектив взагалі міг знати, що перед ним зовсім не Валдо, а Воллі Вальдіні, бо ж вони так схожі. Не відрізнити. Та і не потрібно. До біса. Детектив бачив перед собою лиш серійного вбивцю, за яким ганявся вже стільки років, а не мультиплікаційного доброго героя чи персонажа книжок. Добряче побитого, перекачаного транквілізатором і тумаками серійного вбивцю. Не посміхався вже цей покидьок, не сміявся шалено, а налякано проливав великі, занадто великі навіть для нього, гарячі сльози, що змішувались з фого кров'ю і брудом.

О, це найсильніший транквілізатор, який тільки мав Детектив, і усю цю речовину було щедро влито в Воллі так, що тепер він нікуди не втече.

Не втече ж, правда?..

Як дивно лише, що нічні ліхтарі довкола них не миготять від страху і немає інших двійників Валдо. Можливо, цей двійник відбився від своєї смугастої стаї. І це прекрасно.

— Тебе арештовано, Валдо.

Воллі відкрив тяжкі повіки, але не міг гарно розгледіти довколишнє середовище. Він тільки пам'ятав, що це був парк, ніч і якийсь невідомий чоловік, який гнався слідом і стріляв. І догнав. І боляче притискав до землі. І все ніяк не міг заспокоїти своє збуджене дихання.

— Мене звати... Воллі Вальдіні, я не... Валдо... — Воллі слабко простогнав від болю, коли Детектив заломив руки смугастого створіння за спину і вдягнув наручники на тонкі руки. Декілька секунд він занадто палко тримав зап'ястя Воллі, поки, нарешті, не відпустив.

Було страшно і самотньо в цьому чужому всесвіті. Але найбільше хотілося спати. На декілька секунд Воллі і справді поринає в сон, і впускає з уваги хижо облизуючогося Детектива.

Детектив притискав високе тіло до землі ногою і про щось думав. А чи не підвищити дозування? Це буде летально. Це буде... весело.

Але занадто просто. Валдо повинен страждати так, як страждала нещасна Венда перед смертю... Її страшні побої від палиці закарбувались в пам'яті Детектива болючою раною, невиліковної травмою до скону віку. Все своє теперішнє життя він бачить перед очима понівечене тіло своєї прекрасної покійної дружини і обіцяє повторити подібне з вбивцею. З Валдо. Повторити вдвічі сильніше і жорстокіше.

Напружена рука міцно стискає палицю Воллі, а сам Воллі з останніх сил знову намагається не заснути. Воллі не людина, зовсім не людина. Вірніше — він незвичайна людина. Просто веселе струнке і високе, смугасте створіння з книжок і мультфільмів, і чиїхось малюнків. Примітивний людський транквілізатор діє на нього помірніше, не так жорстоко, як на звичайну пересічну, піксельну особу. І Детектива це приводить в лють.

— Прошу, подзвоніть Венді, подзвоніть Одлаву... Кому-небудь — мене всі знають і підтвердять, що я не винен ні в чому з того, про що ви кажете... Я вас молю...

— Венді? ВЕНДІ?! Ах ти...

Один замах палиці і удар. Смішна пародія на удар.

Стоп. А де удар?

Детектив спробував ще раз. І ще. І ще. Палиця увесь час зупинялась невидимою стіною прямо в декількох сантиметрах від Воллі, а далі — не торкалась його, ніби не даючи Детективу і шансу завдати хоч якусь шкоду.

"Ця блядська річ захищає Валдо!" — промайнуло в голові копа. Доволі очікувано.

Воллі заплющив очі від страху, але зрозумів, що його палиця не дозволяє вдарити його. Це було мило і приємно, але розлюченого чоловіка, схоже, зовсім не спинило. Він зі зліст�� перевернув Воллі на спину і стиснув його за горло голими руками.

Воллі хотів прикритися своїми руками, але вони були закуті в наручники. В звичайній ситуації він би з легкістю виплутався з цього металу, тому що володів навичками виживання в непростих ситуаціях, але зараз, коли тіло не слухалось, а ситуація вийшла з-під контролю, та ще й якийсь Детектив погрожував і шалено посміхався, Воллі задихався.

Вперше йому стало страшно, дуже страшно. Ще трохи — і він втратить свідомість...

Це занадто нудно. Хоч погляд його налякано метушиться зі сторони в сторону, а хриплий крик намагається прорватися крізь тонке горло, все одно він слабкішає.

Це відкриття п'янило Детектива, полонило його. Валдо смертий. Невже? Валдо до біса смертний! Смертний...

Посмішка Детектива росла, а серце, здається, пропустило кілька ударів. Навіть якщо це просто двійник, то це все одно двійник Валдо. Кожного можна спіймати. Кожному можна пропустити пулю крізь голову. Ні. Ні... Кожного можна катувати різними шляхами. Всі помруть по-різному, але одночасно по-страшному.

І Детектив знаходить себе крадучим останні крихти повітря у "Валдо" своїм жорстоким поцілунком. Кусає його пухкі губи, які більше ніколи не будуть мерзенно посміхатися. Злизує його кров, яка більше ніколи не буде насичувати життям і жагою до вбивств це худе тіло.

Валдо ж хотів цього. Чому він зараз не насолоджується, а помирає в паніці? Чому в очах цих червоних немає того спокою і хворобливого шаленства, як раніше? Натомість — переляк. І переляк цей видиміший і більший навіть за той, який Детектив бачив того дня в ресторані.

Ще трохи...

Удар. Тепер справжній, сильний удар від магічної палиці Воллі, що самостійно вдарила Детектива по голові і таким чином змусила чоловіка втратити свідомість на певний час, рятує свого господаря.

Наляканий Воллі поступово присідає, жадібно ловлячи ротом повітря. На щастя, цього часу трохи вистачило, щоб зняти з себе наручники, взяти палицю і, спираючись на неї, спробувати піти. Світ довкола гнувся в якусь несамовиту спіраль, з розбитих губ і носа капала кров, а перед очима стояв бридкий піксельний калейдоскоп невідомого до цього для Воллі всесвіту. Це було неприємно і викликало бажання виблювати.

Тільки що Вальдіні цілували до смерті, з такою ненавистю, з такою жагою, що це було неймовірно страшно і якось навіть трохи тривожно. Хто був цей Валдо, який довів дивного Детектива до такого шаленства? Іноді Воллі теж називали "Валдо", але він їх вчасно виправляв. Це дивне ім'я дали йому інші люди. І невідомо чому.

— Ох, паличко, що він мені вколов... — скиглило смугасте створіння, витираючи кров і сльози брудним рукавом светру. Здається, окуляри теж потріскались, але хоча б не зламались.

Воллі востаннє подивився на лежачого на землі чоловіка. Здається, він прокинувся і підскочив на ноги.

— Стій! Блядський Валдо, стій!

З тяжким видихом Воллі відкрив портал в свій світ, переступаючи піксельну межу і відбираючи в Детектива можливість навіть наздогнати — портал зачинився у того перед носом. Навіть часу дістати пістолет не було.

— Я більше сюди не повернусь. Мені тут не сподобалось... — тихо сказав Воллі своїй палиці і пішов ванної, аби змити з себе увесь цей бруд як фізичний, так і від пережитого.

💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀

[vera800]

One thing I don’t get with big, scary designs is the use of veins

Like, yeah it’s scary and all, but also really impractical if the character was alive and in a fight. Examples:

Tw: horror characters and disturbing imagery

God Z (or Zeus) from FNF: Vs Sonic.exe D-sides (I think that is the name at least). The veins in his head/shell are quite uncomfortable to look at, and works towards the more unsetting vibe of an alternative Lord X, but also makes you think, “wow, one paper cut, and he dead”

Idk who this one is, but the same deal. Definitely scary and terrifying, but the abscess of views around the neck give the appearance of a fatal weakness in the design

Ultra M from FNF: Mario’s Madness v2. Overall a great design that uses unsightly imagery to create a horror character. Instead of going for a thicker, muscular build, it goes for a leaner, more starved appearance. The veins here aren’t as noticeable, except around the limbs.

And then there is… Hulk? I think..? Anyways! While the veins on the arms portray strength and stress on the body, it also creates a weakness. Most injections are through the veins, so your whole arm is like a target practice for lethal syringes.

Even in people, it is occasionally a sign of something unhealthy!

While normal cases of prominent veins occur while exercising, it is normal, as “exercises cause the muscles to swell and harden, which pushes veins toward the surface of the skin”. It is harmless, and doesn’t provide and benefits, but no harm either.

But then we get into varicose veins, which can be a serious health risk. To quote mayoclinic, “Weakened valves, also called incompetent valves, within the veins might cause varicose veins. The weakened valves let blood pool in the veins instead of traveling to the heart. When blood pools in the veins, the veins become larger, making them show under the skin”. While mostly harmless, it can lead to/cause pain, blood clots, and ulcers.

So all in all, veins are a very good way to increase the details of your character, but it is also good to be aware of what it could also mean for the character you are creating. If varicose veins suit your character, then go for it! But if that is not the intended result, then it might be better to look into alternatives for character creation. If an overly veiny torso/limbs fit in with your character’s character, then draw those blood lines! This is art, and you can make whatever you want.

Idk why I went on this rant, it was bugging me for a while and I wanted to research it, and give results to anyone that might find it useful.

[massacr3d]

MASSACR3D - an independent appalachian gothic horror oc FOREST BARNETT from the infamous barnett family massacre case.

✝✝✝ exploring themes of - a horror in the holler, survivors guilt, don't go into those woods after dark, satanic panic of the 1980's, the american nightmare, and self discovery in the form of falling apart completely. - includes triggering content such as abuse, violence, gore, and drug use.

brother to : @voiid3d

established may 2024 - low activity 21+ blog written by nikki she/her 29

this blog is low activity !!!

i work full time and have a busy life, as well as having ADHD that often leads me to go through intense phases with my inspiration and focus to write and focus on other hobbies in my life. so i will disappear sometimes for weeks at a time so please never mistake my lack of replying for a lack of interests in our thread ily!

this is a 21+ blog and will contain triggering content, i will do my best to tag everything as tw trigger but don't hesitate to message me if i miss something

i love plotting, i love shipping, i love platonic relationships pls just give me all of the above!

the rest is simple just don't bring drama here and don't be a dick:)

ABOUT

name: forest barnett date of birth: 3/13 age: 26 place of birth: eastern kentucky zodiac: pisces species: human gender: male, he/him orientation: closeted bisexual occupation: odd jobs current location: drifter height: 6'2 scars: small scar across right eyebrow, large scar down left shoulder and collar bone, right hand missing pinky and knuckle as well as missing most of his ring finger modifications: large amount of random tattoos scattered about, small silver hoop in right ear, tongue piercing hair/eyes: brown, shorter on sides longer in back, blue-grey eyes faceclaim: harris dickinson

positive traitS: loyal, protective, introverted, intelligent, caring negative traits: withdrawn, cynical, impulsive, quiet, odd, obsessive, angry hobbies/interests: reading, nature, working on cars, playing guitar, his old film camera dislikes: small spaces, large crowds mental illnesses: ptsd, insomnia, depression traumas : the death of his family, his time spent in prison, the unwanted attention that followed it all vehicle: rusty red 1980's chevy k10 style: really simple, mute colors. jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, most of which have holes or stains education: high school drop out economic status: poor habits: drinking, drugs, and cigarettes

it was a stale night in mid July when Charles Barnett took the family axe and gruesomely murdered his wife and three children. this would become known as the infamous Barnett family massacre. however, two of the five children survived. fifteen year old Finch, and eighteen year old Forest. originally it was believed that Forest was the killer, at the time of police arrival, Finch was missing while Forest lay gravely injured beside his father who was slain to death on the floor. for the corrupt and unprepared police force in the poverty stricken and rural area of that corner of the Appalachians during the height of satanic panic, it appeared to be a cut and dry case. a troublesome tattooed teen who enjoyed listening to metal and whos toxicology report came back positive for oxycodone had a much larger motive than a hardworking and heavily religious father. or so it seemed. with no witnesses left to tell the true story, the police built a case against Forest Barnett which would quickly become a topic of heated debate and still is to this day. with pressure building from media all over the country, Forest was charged and sentenced to the death penalty. he would spend the next seven years on death row, waiting his turn for lethal injection until one day everything changed when Finch was found wandering the highway nearest to the family home, seemingly reappearing after years of being missing. this only added to the mystery already surrounding the barnett family and forced all eyes on the police and the exploitation they had made when gathering evidence. after much deliberation the case was reopened and a new and fresh look at forensics made it clear that Forest Barnett was innocent.

he was set free - but what does freedom mean to someone who is still locked in the cage of their past? countless hours Forest spent obsessing over that night, desperate to find some sort of answers to why his father had done it. this quickly leads him down a rabbit hole of horrors that lurk in those ancient mountains and the sinister secrets their family had been keeping for decades laying hidden just beneath the surface. was this a catalyst for the slaughter that night? --- the weight of this question takes Forest on a bloodstained path in search of truth and redemption.

[batsies-little-monster]

[anachr0nismm]

“No you get the lethal injection!” (Said like ‘no you hang up!’)

[mybrainproblems]

I think I feel a bit emotionally disoriented right now because while I know I have mice (old house/apt building) I haven't really seen them except for the occasional out of the corner of my eye late at night. But today one came out in broad daylight and just kept scampering around my room and not going back to where I'm pretty sure the mouse hole is and was just hiding under things and like.

There are really only two ways to humanely kill a mouse and I don't have the supplies for either at my disposal so after a couple hours of him alternating scampering literally across my room and hiding under the radiator I managed to corner him and gather the little guy up in a shirt to release outside. I'm guessing he was sick since it was daytime and barely reacting to me unless I was right there moving and he seemed to not be able to figure out its way back to the mouse hole... so kinda hoping the circle of life happened once he was outside.

And all of this happened while very high and reading a fic that put me in a really emotionally fraught state.

[lawlikecaseywells]

Casey Novak - Law and Order SVU

“You have two choices, cooperate, and face life in prison, or don't, and you get a lethal injection.”

Spencer Hastings - Pretty Little Liars

“Seriously, I needed this. I needed to win. On an existential level.”

Emily Charlton - The Devil Wears Prada 

[To herself, while working despite a serious cold] " I love my job, I love my job.”

Cristina Yang - Greys Anatomy 

“Have some fire. Be unstoppable. Be a force of nature. Be better than anyone here, and don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. There are no teams here, no buddies. You’re on your own. Be on your own.”