#Clean Glass Pool Fencing

[fencingandgates]

Simple Steps to Clean Glass Pool Fencing Installation

Laminated or toughened glass is swiftly becoming the preferred choice of people getting swimming pool installation done around the property. This material ensures clean, clear and luxurious looks compared to steel, timber, aluminium, PVC and others. Another advantage is that cleaning is super easy, and you must follow some straightforward steps. A quick review of steps to clean swimming pool fencing is presented in this post.

Quick Hosing

There should be no confusion related to cleaning glass pool fencing installations, as hosing is the simplest and the most effective step to clean dirt and debris. Any dirt will blow away with a regular stream of water, and following these steps will help clean the fencing to perfection.

Removing Away The Dirt Build-Up

Some stubborn dirt and build-up will surely be there on security pool fencing installations that have not been cleaned for a couple of months. This stubborn dirt is the best place to start the cleaning process using a piece of newspaper.

Warm And Soapy Water

Your glass pool fencing installations will be straightforward to clean with warm and soapy water. Just mix the regular dishwashing soap in warm water and dip a sponge to clean stubborn marks. Once cleaning is done, regular hosing down one more time will be required to bring glass pool fencing in new conditions.

Cleaning The Fittings

Frameless glass pool fencing and semi-frameless pool fencing installations are fitted with marine-grade stainless steel fixings. They don't require too much cleaning, and whatever cleaning is required, you can offer with the tips provided here.

Stainless steel can be cleaned with a gentle cloth dipped in warm, soapy water. This will eliminate all the dirt build-up, and tougher stains will also go away quickly. Once this cleaning is done, you can hose down the entire installation to remove any soap residue from the pool fencing. A good rinsing is highly effective in bringing back the shine and giving it a crisp and clear look.

Apart from these cleaning strategies, experts also recommend staying vigilant and continuing frequent cleaning. This will ensure that there will be no dirt build-up, and in-depth cleaning will be easier.

[crescendence]

Poolhouse Poolhouse Sydney Inspiration for a mid-sized, modern backyard renovation with a rectangular infinity pool

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Wow, this is 1931 home in Winnetka, Wisconsin is impressive. 9bds, 9ba, $8.9M.

Wow, look at the carved wood walls. There's an original tile floor in the foyer, too, and a leaded glass inner door.

You know, I like the white carpet on the stairs. I wouldn't want to clean it, but it looks beautiful. This home has those bas relief ceilings, too.

Is it the way they're photographing the room to get the ceiling in, or are the ceilings low? The large sitting room has wood paneled walls to match the entrance hall, plus the same ceiling and a beautiful fireplace.

Very classy guest powder room. Black marble floor with white veining, and the marble counter on top of an antique dresser has a sink ringed in gold. The gold wallpaper ties it all in.

Comfy home office. The rounded desk looks art deco and is nestled perfectly in a triad of framed windows.

The library shelving is gorgeous. Oblong octagonal cutouts in carved shelves, and that gorgeous fireplace in the middle has a pediment with a pineapple and a black & white marble surround.

I like this light dining room. Cream and pale blue bas relief ceiling is so soft and stunning.

These cheery bright dining spaces are so pleasing. This is a breakfast room in creamy white and it gets a lot of sun from the windows to the garden.

The kitchen is a professional chef's kitchen. It begins with a large pantry done in the same cream color with large glass paned doors on the cabinets so you can see the dishware. The kitchen cabinetry looks maple and has a cute corner fireplace, black countertops and copper pots hanging over the double island.

At the top of the stairs on the 2nd level is a magnificent oval leaded glass skylight. The glass panes are opalescent. And, there's a large sitting room up here, too.

They've made a walkway between 2 area rugs in the huge primary bedroom. On one side is a lovely mahogany canopy bed that contrasts well against the white room and the other side is a sitting room.

There is a huge home office up hear with a pretty French Provincial desk and a chaise lounge.

The bath is nice, there's a separate room for the toilet, and a lovely vintage marble counter on the sink. Love the rust-colored marble on the floor.

What a lovely guest room. It's so large, there's a huge picture window between 2 full-sized canopy beds.

Down in the large basement is a rec room that looks like the ultimate man cave. Rich dark wood furniture, a red pool table with an unusual pool lamp- it's not the usual stained glass, this fixture has foxes in red waistcoats holding up electric candles - love that.

Wow, man cave indeed. That fireplace is the size of a room. You can definitely walk in there. And, look at the life-sized butler statue in the corner. Is he creepy?

The home gym looks commercial. Mirrored walls and a black ceiling make it look industrial.

Outside, the iron gate makes it look like a secret garden.

The hedges are cut in patterns.

It must cost a fortune to maintain these gardens. The property is 3.25 acres.

Is it me, or does the pool look like a fidget spinner.

I love conservatories and this one is lovely. The plants and wicker furniture really bring the outdoors in.

This is the prettiest tennis court with the trees and latticed fencing.

An elaborate play set for the children looks like it conveys.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/44-Locust-Rd-Winnetka-IL-60093/70453195_zpid/

[steddieas-shegoes]

“You could help, you know.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”

Steve was standing in the shallow end of the pool, wearing only his tiny bathing suit shorts, attempting to do the first big clean of the year.

The water was still cold, but it had to be done so they could host the annual pool party to welcome summer.

Eddie was sitting on one of the lounge chairs, drinking a beer and eating the chips that were supposed to be for the party.

Steve was glaring at him, net in hand, visibly shivering from the chill in the water and the air. Eddie had warned him that it was still too cold at night, that the water was gonna be uncomfortable, that the breeze in the air was still too frequent and cold to get in.

But did Steve listen? No.

So instead of helping, Eddie sat and watched.

“We should push the party out a couple more weeks.”

“Ah, but you promised them.”

Eddie kept munching on the chips, knowing that the party would get pushed out because Steve would last maybe five more minutes before giving up.

Steve was a determined son of a bitch, but even his stubbornness wouldn’t get him through this, Eddie was sure of it.

But five minutes passed and Steve remained in the pool, scooping leaves and other debris from the deep end.

His lips were starting to turn blue, but he didn’t complain.

Eddie finished his beer while he watched Steve’s back muscles shift as he moved around the water.

He loved watching Steve’s muscles.

He didn’t love watching Steve freeze to death.

“Sweetheart, maybe we can call it a day. Tomorrow is supposed to be warmer, the sun might heat the water up a little.”

“No, I promised.”

Ah. Eddie had been somewhat joking before; He knew the kids would understand if they had to postpone because of it being too cold.

But Steve would never break a promise to them. Not when he could instead suffer greatly.

“Steve.”

Steve ignored him.

Eddie got up from the chair and moved to the edge of the pool, only a few feet from where Steve was focusing on his task much harder than he needed to.

“Steve.”

“I’m more than halfway done. I might as well finish.”

“They’ll understand. Maybe we can try next weekend.”

“No. I can do it.”

Eddie managed to grab the end of the net when it got close to him on Steve’s next swipe through the water and tugged so Steve was forced to come closer to him.

“Sweetheart, you need to get out.”

“But they’ll be upset.”

“They’ll understand.”

“I can’t-“

“You can. It isn’t letting them down.”

“It is.”

Steve was finally close enough for Eddie to cup his face between his hands. He felt how cold his cheeks were and they weren’t even wet, he couldn’t imagine how the lower half of his body and hands must’ve felt.

“I’ll call them tomorrow and reschedule. You’re gonna get sick and end up having to cancel anyways if you stay in this water.”

“But they won’t wanna just come over to hang out.”

Eddie pushed aside the sudden heartbreak at the realization that Steve genuinely believed the kids used him for his pool as if they don’t spend at least one to two nights a week at his house all winter long for movie nights and dinners.

“They come to hang out all the time without the pool. They love you. They don’t care about your stuff.”

“But they were so excited.”

“I think that excitement would go away if you die from hypothermia.”

Steve sighed.

Eddie smiled. He won. Thank God. He really thought he was gonna be pulling a frozen solid Steve from the pool in the next ten minutes.

Eddie took the net from Steve’s hand and got up to hang it on the hook along the side of the fence while Steve got out of the pool.

Neither of them had brought a towel outside, and Steve’s shivering was getting progressively worse every second.

“Alright, strip.”

Steve snorted, but his teeth had started chattering, so Eddie just raised his eyebrow at him.

Steve sighed and removed his bathing suit, leaving it right on the ground as he rushed in the sliding glass door to the warmth of the house.

Eddie hung them on the back of a chair so they could dry and followed Steve inside.

Steve was already going upstairs, so Eddie yelled to him to start a hot bath while he grabbed his trash from outside.

When he got to the bathroom, Steve was already sitting in the almost full tub, head leaned back and eyes closed.

Eddie watched him for a moment.

He was a self-sacrificing idiot who didn’t understand his own worth without his rich-boy things, but Eddie loved him.

He loved him enough to strip down and get into the bath behind him, holding him against his chest to help him warm up more. He loved him enough to wash his hair and body because he was already exhausted from working all day and trying to take care of the pool. He loved him enough to dry him off with the softest towel in the cabinet, and dress him in a pair of sweatpants and Eddie’s hoodie. He loved him enough to call Dustin when he was asleep and tell him that there’d be no pool party this weekend, but they could still come hang out.

As expected, Dustin (and everyone) loved Steve enough to show up regardless of anything else except being able to spend time with Steve.

[shares-a-vest]

He's Gonna Save Me, Call Me 'Baby'

wc: 1.1k | Rated: T for alcohol consumption (not excessive) | cw: post-breakup, angst with a hopeful ending

Tags: Future Fic (mid-90s), Post Stancy Breakup, Steve Harrington Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Platonic Stobin, Jeff (Stranger Things), Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin, Implied Future Steddie (only bc the end is a little vague)

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild Hozier Project. I chose the song, 'Jackie and Wilson'. Thank you soooo much to @subbaculture for setting up this event and making the banner!

(Read on ao3)

“Look alive, Dingus.”

Robin turns around to Steve and pats him square in the chest. He perks up, even though his best friend turns straight back to the entryway of The Hideout to wave at Jeff. He thinks it would be easier if Robin’s head were on a literal swivel with the way she has been whipping back and forth for the past hour.

Steve grumbles into his beer, pushing through the burn in his throat that still lingers years later as he laments the lack of Eddie following behind his bandmate.

He knows they had arrived too early for Corroded Coffin’s show, but Robin’s summer break from teaching came just in time – sue him for needing to spend every possible moment with his best friend.

Though he’d decided as soon as Robin announced her return to Hawkins that he wouldn’t mention the flowers he ripped up in haste in the back garden last week.

He’d done so straight after arriving home from the real estate agent, head hung in shame as he fully accepted yet another hard thunk on the head courtesy of Nancy Wheeler.

Well, it wasn’t so much a thunk this time as it was what Steve might consider, ‘divine intervention’.

He was in the backyard, tending to his small and still very much intact flower garden when a piece of guttering fell clean from the house, smashing through the window of the spare bedroom Nancy was using as her office – a room they’d falsely promised each other would be used for an entirely different reason.

But, much like his childhood home (which endured a mighty crack right through that cursed goddamn pool during Spring Break of ‘86), Steve found himself existing in a not-so-perfect house. One that grew increasingly cold as years of Upside Down dust and fog and smoke cooled Hawkins’s atmosphere.

A house that, with a broken and rusted gutter pipe, decided to remind them that shouldn’t – couldn’t – be playing house.

That’s all it really was: a pretend white picket fence dream that isn’t what Steve had meant by his vision of vacationing with a brood of Harringtons, Nancy by his side.

A dream that Nancy never wanted and got dragged into until her office window smashed in.

A dream that Steve thought was dead and buried the day Nancy rightfully picked through shards of glass for her things and left.

Buried until Eddie called him, saying that he had been talking to Robin (because of course, they kept tabs on him). He said the band would be back in town and that Steve and Robin should meet them.

And so, with a few beers warming his belly, burning his throat and sending a prickling sensation up his scar-covered sides, Steve found that nagging hope bubble up again.

He shakes his head, scoffing at his hopeless self as the sound of rhythm and blues music over the bar’s jukebox almost drowns out Jeff’s and Robin’s chattering.

Maybe he should be talking himself out of it. Finally acknowledging that years-old fleeting something between him and Eddie.

But he wants it.

And Lord knows he acts on a mere fleeting feeling.

Maybe history won’t repeat itself this time. Maybe the rusted gutter was one last divine thunk.

Maybe it won’t just be a first date. Or meaningless sex. Or bullshit.

He should have known that love with Nancy – a love long sucked down his old pool drain along with Barb Holland’s life – couldn’t prosper in the aftermath of an almost apocalypse.

They thought they were supposed to try, is the thing.

Staying in Hawkins. Keeping things at bay. Watching. Perhaps waiting for it all to come back.

But then it didn’t.

It all just lingered.

And they were left to pick up the pieces.

Right mistakes.

Move on.

They just didn’t need to do it together.

Steve pivots on his barstool, leaning an elbow on the bar top to get a better (hopefully seemingly more casual) view of the entryway.

He has seen Eddie over the years. Every Christmas at the Hendersons, sporadic visits home, a phone call here and there. The band hadn’t exactly made it big – at all, really. But they made enough to move around. Tour. Always returning to The Hideout for a one-off Tuesday Night gig as if nothing changed.

Steve looks around, thinking there might be three more drunks than the last show –

And there he is.

Eddie enters the bar with Gareth and George in tow and Steve swears a summer breeze flows in with him.

He looks good. Leather-clad as always. Pants impossibly tight. Jacket chains jangling. His hair still a river of wild curls.

But Steve sinks back on his seat as the trio makes a beeline for the stage, Eddie’s bright eyes turning into a dark frown as he orders the boys about, barely carrying a thing himself.

He probably had some theatrical excuse about his outfit, punctuated by manic hand gestures and a pout or two.

Steve watches as they dump their equipment by the one-step platform, each maneuver creating cacophonous thuds that reverberate through the bar. Jeff grimaces at the sight before shooting an apologetic glance at the manager and barkeep. The boys always did saddle him with sweet-talking the staff.

“Someone’s eager,” Robin teases, catching Steve’s smirk.

Jeff quirks a brow and stifles a smile.

“Shut up,” Steve chuckles into his glass before he downs the last of his beer.

“Eddie is really excited to see you, man,” Jeff nods, offering a nonchalant shrug just as Eddie begins making his way towards them.

Steve’s heart quickens.

There’s that something.

A something that is reflected in the glint in Eddie’s eyes as he smiles wide and waves.

Steve wiggles his fingers in greeting, shaking his head at himself almost instantly causing a lock of his hair to flop out of place.

George not-at-all subtly drags Gareth in Jeff’s direction.

“Over here, Gare,” Robin commands loudly through gritted teeth.

“Hey, Steve,” Eddie says, his voice low as he steps forward to stand just close enough that yeah, Steve decides to roll with that hope again.

He reaches up to comb a hand through his hair but Eddie gets there first.

“Sucks about Wheeler, babydoll,” Eddie continues, allowing his fingers to scrape his scalp, carefully looking him over as he does so.

Eddie always is too much.

Everything.

A lot. All at once.

Seeing him.

Steve hums and Eddie soon stops, an embarrassed set of dimples dotting his cheeks as he likely thinks better of it given their current location.

“It was... all a mistake,” Steve admits, taking Eddie’s retreating hand.

He intertwines ring-adorned fingers with his own, refusing to let go of the hope tethering them, ready to start again.

[bookwormscififan]

Hybrids and Humans, Chapter 7

Broken Rights

Previous Chapter

Read on AO3!

A/N: Take some angst.

Warnings: There is a short scene that handles some electroshock, so just a warning.

--

“Wait, I don’t understand.” The soldiers were silent as Jackie protested, grips tight on his arms as they practically dragged him down the stairs. “Please, at least let me call Phantom! It’s his house, he needs to know what’s going on!”

They lifted him over the table with no regard for the items on it, and Jackie flinched as his feet knocked a few ornaments onto the ground, hearing them smash against the floor. Dragging him through the shards, his feet trailed blood along the once-spotless hardwood, and Jackie fell limp in the soldiers’ arms as defeat swept over him.

--

“Tell me why you took me from my home,” Jackie’s voice was flat, head bowed as he sat in front of the sharply dressed man across the table. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I never hurt anyone, I was living my life.”

“Hybrids aren’t allowed in the town.” Jackie’s head snapped up at the curt response, anger flaring up in his chest as his eyes blazed. “You have your rights, but you can’t live amongst the society.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t speak to you if you use that language—”

“I wasn’t hurting anybody! I was simply living in a house – owned and paid by a human – and keeping out of danger! You took me from my fucking house and put me in here, and you’re trying to tell me I broke some—”

The man watched as Jackie collapsed onto the floor as a result of the soldier behind him injecting him with a syringe. With a short nod, Jackie was carried from the room and taken back to his cell, cuffed and chained to a wall to keep him from lashing out again.

--

The walls shook with the echoes of screams, scientists and soldiers alike covering their ears against the pained cries of the raccoon hybrid in the cell.

“Please! Please, stop! Why are you doing this?!” Inside the cell, Jackie screamed as shock after shock of electricity hit him, hair and fur unkempt as tears stained his cheeks. “Let me go! I’ll never come to the town again! I swear! Please!”

Behind two-way glass, the sharply dressed man crossed his arms, watching Jackie writhe before lifting his hand, motioning for the shocks to stop. As Jackie panted and shook, the man turned and walked away, waving his hand to return Jackie to his cell.

--

His eyes flashed as he watched people move past his cell, waiting until the lights turned off before scurrying to the door, picking at the lock with the small nail he’d snatched.

He held his breath as the lock clicked, waiting for signs someone heard him before slipping out of the cell, moving down the halls like a shadow. His hands were bruised from his time there, and his legs were stiff, but he made it to a fire exit and out the door in the blink of an eye.

The cool night air was refreshing on his face, and he paused for a moment to take several breaths, revelling in his momentary freedom. Catching himself, he hurried out of the facility, through a gap in the electrified fence, and into the thick woods beyond.

Collapsing against twigs and dead leaves, Jackie swallowed back gulps of air before looking around him, not recognising his surroundings. How far away was he? How long would it take to get back to Phantom? Would Phantom even remember him?

Slowly he managed to stand, moving to a bush and taking the berries from it. His ears swivelled at the sound of running water, and he moved toward it hesitantly. There was a creek, small with clear water, which Jackie used to clean himself and drink from before following it downstream in the hopes of finding the town.

--

Instead he found the creek ended at a small pool, in a meadowed clearing where the sun shone warmly on his skin. Falling to his knees in the soft grass, Jackie looked around with wide eyes trying to get his bearings.

He moved to the edge of the pool, cupping his hands to drink the water before looking at his reflection in the surface. His patches had grown in the time he was away, unruly and greasy hair falling into his eyes. The dye had long since faded, streaking the dark brown locks with a sickly green colour.

He held back a sob, hand going to his mouth as he gagged instead, turning to the side to empty his stomach, losing all strength to keep himself upright. His lungs burned as he breathed heavily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before going back to the water and pausing when he saw another face in the surface.

“Are you alright?” The stranger’s voice was soft, concerned as they crouched beside him. “You look like death.” Another hybrid, this one with fox ears and tail, gently placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. Jackie cleared his throat before shaking his head slowly, lip trembling as his tears fell again. “Here, let me help you. I live not far from here, and I’ve got hot water for a bath and a change of clothes.”

“T-Thanks,” Jackie managed, letting the man help him to stand. “My name’s Jackie, by the way.” The fox nodded, leading Jackie out of the clearing with a kind face.

“I’m Mad.”

--------------------------------

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons @rattyboyisemo

[nobody7102]

So in this you talked about you and Fanboy having a pool at their housing.

Pool day hcs for when the team comes over??

Fuck yeah Mickey boys got a pool!

Living somewhere as hot as California, it was a need for you and Mickey to have a pool/beach either at the house or near by

Everyone in Dagger team absolutely sneaks into your backyard, at this point you and Mickey aren’t even surprised anymore to see Jake laying in the pool on your ‘Ridiculous Inflatable Swan-Thing’ that Mickey got you for Christmas

“You staying for dinner Jake?” You yell from the sliding glass door, only for Jake to shake his head “nope, just got done with a run and was in the neighborhood, thought I’d cool off”

Finding Bob and Natasha swimming after midnight when you and Mickey get back from a light night walk? “Just make sure you two don’t wake up the neighbors if you splash each other”

Everyone uses your pool

Holding bi-weekly BBQs when ever you can so everyone can get together to hang out and cool off

Bradley being the only nice one who cleans the pool and backyard if he sneaks into your backyard to use the pool

Reuben eventually gets you guys a sign for the fence, one side says: “Pool open for use” and the other side says “out of commission”

Having a whole towel/snack/dry rack set up for when everyone is over. The racks loaded with all the basics, snacks, a cooler of water, towels, sunscreen, and extra clothes that fit anyone (too many people have either fallen in drunk or were pushed in) it’s also got a phone station so no one looses or gets their phone wet

You and Mickey devote one night a week to have pool-date night

[cottoncandy-cult]

You Walk In On Him (ZFBFS)

(Y/n) smiled happily as she came into her home one summer day after a shopping trip, summer had officially started a few days before hand, and she wanted to get a new bathing suit. The one she selected was a black bikini with (F/c) hearts all over it, the top tied up front and the bottoms had little knots stitched onto the sides that were just for show. They had recently got the pool area redone which had her excited for the first dip, the only thing she had been more excited about was showing her bikini to her boyfriend.

Her (E/c) eyes traced the living room; she became vaguely aware that she couldn't hear a sound in the house. She peaked through the doorway between the living room and kitchen, out behind the sliding glass doors she could see the fenced in pool and the woods that surrounded them. But she couldn't see him by the pool or in the backyard, so she decided to see if he was napping within his room. She sat her bag on the couch beside her purse, it having a few other items in it she'd have to put away. She took her bathing suit out and made her way up the stairs, she called out Zack's name on her way up the steps but still heard nothing back.

Zack had been in the shower and unable to hear her call, though he had just finished cleaning up and so he slowly turned off the warm water and getting out. The house having 2 master bedrooms meant he didn't need to worry about bringing his clothes with him, and so after drying himself he exited the pearly bathroom into his bedroom. His window was open and it being a rather nice day Zack took his time and enjoyed the breeze that came through, these moments of peace were something he rarely got to enjoy in depth.

When he heard footsteps quickly approaching the room he turned to the door, freezing in place when the door flew open to reveal his girlfriend. She seemed just as startled as he had been, the two stared each other in the eyes. At least until her eyes drifted down, lips parting slightly. At first, he thought she was staring at his scars, until he realized how low her (E/c) eyes had gone. He could feel heat flooding his face, it took him a moment to scream out. "DAMNIT BITCH QUIT STARING AND GET OUT!" He had practically tossed her out the door, once the wooden barrier was closed and locked, he could hear dying of laughter on the other side. Part of him wanted to laugh as well, but at the same time he was still rather embarrassed at the incident. "She's such a bitch..."

[cerebricarchives]

Fly It High

*After failing to enter the front door of the household of Caleb Ramos, where a TOJ Code Orange threat is taken place, Green Thunder tries the backdoor by going over the stone molded fence to the pool, to which he falls flat on his ass.*

⚡: AH DAMN! Augh...walk it off, boy. Walk it....huh.

*Green Thunder notices the pool needed some cleaning work, as weird pale creatures are surfaced on the pool, looking like veiny worms with dozens of legs, all of them not moving. GT gets up to investigate the pile of odd bodies, even getting a pool net and foolishly pokes at them.*

⚡: Well whatever the hell happened...damn seemed like an agent already got here. The hell are these th-

*In a smashing instance, a window from the second story breaks through with a worm creature plopped on the floor. In a moment it scurries it's little legs around, finding it's footing as Green Thunder is taking it lightly*

⚡: EUGH what the FUCK! The HELL is that goddamn thing!? No no no, I'm out, I'm-

*In a second instance, a man donning a bright shining blue armor jumps out of the window and lands right on his feet next to the crawling creature. Green Thunder backs up as the man swings a battle axe glowing with green and blue neon lights onto the floor, slicing the creature in half, all the while he gutturally screams in a thick Gaelic accent. As he kicks the pieces off to the pool, he looks up and notices the man in the green suit piece of tech, scared shitless.*

🪓: This doesn't concern you, false knight! Go back to your little cave.

⚡: Whoa okay. Time out, time out. =doing the time out gesture= Hold up, what the hell, what's going on? What happened here?

🪓: Star Spawns happened.

⚡: What?

🪓: =points battle axe to the pile of bodies soaking in the chloride dyed pool= Least I remind you of the Ancient's ways, corrupted by the master, where meteor showers or aurora borealis happen, the stars fall upon the Earth. You're lucky enough I showed up, otherwise your Trinity of Justice would have to keep them alive before they turn into worse beings.

⚡: =squats down eyeing the monsters= They look like the XenoQueen got it on with the Eraserhead baby...well you know when it was grown up and uh...well anyways if it will make you feel better I'm not with the ToJ. I'm on my own here, and I'd have to assume you are too?

🪓: I'm different from you, wandering warrior.

⚡: Right well I bet you heard about a Code Orange Threat here. Caleb Ramos, a professor from Riverstone University. Advanced biology but toyed around with making house flies the literal size of houses some dozen years ago. What made you so special that you happened by the area?

🪓: Fool that you are to misunderstand what's going on. If I may properly introduce myself, I am the combined son of Odin and Zeus. I was chosen by the true Heirs of the Ancients to protect the planet from The Master's plan to corrupt you beings much like he did with the Ancients. Wielding the Axe of All Knowns, Armor of the Southern Isles and power gifted from the True Heirs to undo the Master's plan, I am Thy Neon Viking!

*A breif pause happens as Green Thunder has to collect what this cosplayer has ranted in the past minute*

⚡: So...where's Caleb?

*Thy Neon Viking points his axe once again to the pile of bodies, especially to one where it's belly looks full.*

⚡: =Shakes head= Okay, I don't know what kind of nut job thing you got goin' on pal, but right now we got anomalies in the pool, an MIA civilian and by any moment an actual agent is gonna come by and for our sakes, pin this on the both of us. You and I gotta zip.

🪓: In a moment. =Turns around to the glass sided back door= There maybe some more Star Spawns. I'll hold them off back, you can just go.

⚡: You know I kind of realize something....out there in the drive way there was a station wagon. Looked pretty gritty, with a mismatched door. With a big screen TV at the back. =Looks over Neon Viking's shoulder, peering through the glass door to see a pretty bad scuffle. Tossed chairs, weird black goo on the walls, a nice clean outline where a TV would be hanging on the wall= So what's going on?

🪓: Hey like I said, Viking business. Okay so what, I broke the screen. You know what they say...uh...always recyle!

⚡: Buddy....=takes a big whiff= yeah that's skunk weed al-

*In a flashed moment Neon Viking jabs his fist to Green Thunder's stomach, whereas he holds onto the impact, putting his legs together and falls right by the poolside. Groaning in pain, Neon Viking runs right out to the door, smashes right through the glass door and goes through the spacious fancy household with his battle axe grinding through the floor, more like he's dragging it behind.*

==============================================\\\\\

[ladyoriza]

ocs as TMA entities

tagged by @adelaidedrubman

i. THE BURIED. weighted blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust & sand speaking to you.

ii. THE CORRUPTION. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. THE DESOLATION. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. THE FLESH. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flat-lining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. THE EYE. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colors. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. THE HUNT. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide & seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks & growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark & running after it.

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realize they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER. a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knife block on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories.distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish color. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER. wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colors of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. THE VAST. open spaces. carnival rides going up & down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles & miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realizing it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unreliability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivors. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

[pmbalustrade]

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[jencsi]

Aftermath

August 2016

Dark purple balloons sway in the gentle breeze, tied down with silver ribbon to patio chairs, the metal fencing that surrounds the yard, random stakes placed throughout the yard. The garden is in full bloom, lavish shrubs, flowering pots, roses pink and red, towering wildflowers, daisies, echinacea, black eyed Susan’s, swaying along with the balloons, freshly cut grass, greenery around every corner, Barbara’s pride and joy. 

A long table sits under a small white canopy tent, purple cloth draped over it, matching the balloons. Here, wrapped gifts, colorful bags, donned with ribbons and bows are set down with care. Large boxes of pizza covered with cheese and dripping in grease occupy another table. At the final table rests a large rectangle layered cake with purple and pink frosting and two number one candles placed delicately on top. “Aunt Julie sit by me, Aunt Julie watch me jump in the pool, look at the new books I got from grandpa, wow sunglasses, just like yours! Cool!" Finn soaks up the party atmosphere with joy, happily catching Katie when she hugs her, turning her just in time to blow out the candles on her cake. Finn didn’t know what triggered it, but there it was, sudden, familiar and terrifying, the dull ache in her head, just above her left eye. She winced once and that motion triggered her nerves to shoot more pain to the same spot. Her stomach lurched in fear and panic, not today, please not today, she begged silently to her wounded body.  She muttered her curse words under her breath for the sake of Katie and her friends as she turned, marching back towards the house where her bag resided in the closet, yanking it by the strap in frustration, she dug around for her saving grace, the painkiller that would put it in its place, hopefully, the negative thought crept into her brain, for she spent half a dozen nights and days taking more than one of this horse tranquilizer type medications, only to be left with the same pain for hours on end. 

She struggled to unscrew the medicine bottle cap, hands shaking with rage and fear of the pain that lay ahead of her unless this magic pill stopped it in a reasonable amount of time to where she could still enjoy the party. 

She stumbled into the kitchen, barefoot on the polished wood floor, shoes lost in the chaos of the party, the hem of her dress swaying as she moved, it was a new dress she picked out specifically for this party, a floral pattern that made her feel clean and fresh like spring and summer should be rather than dark and dingy like the headaches made her feel and forced her to retreat to cool dark spaces alone like some recluse. 

In the kitchen, she ripped a piece of bread off the loaf on the counter, enough to quickly chew and swallow with some difficulty, before shakily reaching for a glass, filling it with water from the tap, popping the pill and chugging the water, the sooner it hit her bloodstream the better right? She tried to convince herself it was going to be fine but the ache persisted and seemed to grow in intensity with each passing second she wasted. 

She felt the bread and water churn unpleasantly in her stomach and she braces her hands on the marble countertop, breathe, just breathe, it’s gonna work, give it a chance. 

But a wave of nausea hits her hard and she stifles the urge to cry. Maybe more water? She was never drinking enough, that’s how she ended up in this situation half the time. But no, her brain taunts her, water can’t fix it, it’s all his fault. And the negative side of her mind is right after all, she wouldn’t be forced to take prescribed painkillers, be forced into constricting MRI’s a few times a year, relearn her entire existence one fumbled step at a time. He took so much from her and with each side effect that her body threw at her as a result of his violence, he continued to ruin days like today and rob her of the life she fought so hard to get back. 

She can feel her heart beating faster, sweat gathering on her forehead and neck as panic over the pain overwhelms her. 

“The girls are having a blast,” Barbara Russell’s voice floats from behind her as she enters the kitchen. “It’s cooling down so DB’s gonna set up a bonfire for them to make s’mores.”

Her words register but Finn feels a haze over her as she nods, trying to to turn around too quickly at the risk of throwing up. 

“Sounds great,” Finn mutters, her voice cracked with emotions, struggling to maintain composure and keep her insides from churning and spilling out onto the floor or counter. 

Barbara senses the sudden change in her mood and behavior and immediately rushes to her side properly. 

“What’s wrong?” She demands to know softly but stern.

“Nothing,” Finn tries to deter her but the ache in her head is pounding, she can’t let go of the counter, a flush overcomes her and she feels her knees buckle. 

But Barbara sees right through the facade, the way she’s tensing up in obvious pain and discomfort. It’s a headache, a bad one, one brought to fruition at the hands of someone else. Now it’s her turn to feel a rush of rage towards the man, the monster she corrects herself, responsible for this. Before she can make a move or think of what to do next, Russell enters the kitchen, laughing about Charlie telling Katie and her friends a ghost story. 

“What’s up?” he asks of the tension in the kitchen, his smile fading when he sees Finn holding on to the counter oddly and Barbara next to her looking worried.

“Headache,” Finn manages to choke out, pressing the palm of her hand to her forehead which is now hot to the touch and aching terribly. The spare bedroom she is forced into is dark, blackout curtains pulled across the windows, deflecting any sunlight from entering. It’s chilly, just like the rest of the house as the air conditioner hums, the gentle rattling of the vents on the wall seems ten times louder in the moment of agony, the light from the small lamp Barbara turns on by the bedside practically blinds her and she squints, the rest of her senses taking a beating as her head throbs. 

The motion of laying down overwhelms her and she doesn’t fight Barbara who turns down the covers to allow her to settle in bed. The sheets are cool and comforting against her body, her head landing softly on the pillow changes the feeling of her pain but doesn’t alleviate it.  She hears whispers above her, but the words are jumbled, and her brain can only process a few at a time "ice, no, heat, peppermint oil, that's too strong, remember last month?" Far from comforting her in the moment, Finn can hear them fussing over her care fading in and out of her laboring subconscious, the familiarity they have with her pain creates a feeling of embarrassment and heat flush to her cheeks.

She turns her head and presses her entire forehead into the cold pillow, begging for relief, a calming of the churning in her stomach, a break from the pain, from the odd flashes of light above her eyes, annoying her already overstimulated mind and body.

“Honey don’t do that,” Barbara scolds her suddenly, patting her back, making her turn back on her side causing her to protest with another soft cry, the shift causing more pain. 

She squeezes her eyes shut tight, creating more tension in her head which she knows is wrong to do but she can’t help the involuntary reaction in the moment. The light from the bedside lamp blinds her even with her eyes closed.

 The sense of something cold on her burning forehead a moment later brings a shock to her system but within seconds, the pain seems to melt away, a few aching throbs at a time. The battle isn’t over that easily she knows, but the intermittent moment of relief gives her a few seconds to collect her breathing and feel, for just a few seconds, normal, if that’s a possibility in her world now, an illusion, a dream. 

Tiny multi-colored stars twinkle in her lines of sight, grouped together in front of the black landscape of her eyelids. The distinct scent of smoke enters her olfactory range, along with a singular girlish shriek piercing her auditory system. She attempts to lift her immobilized arm, wanting to make sure all her limbs are still functioning in her moment of peril. Somehow, her hand makes contact with her face, she’s alive, numb, but still feeling. The cold on her forehead that brought her relief has gone lukewarm. A soft voice far away speaks unintelligibly, then she feels the lukewarm feeling fade, replaced once again by something icy cold. Lather, rinse, repeat.

An hour, or four, she didn’t know and wouldn’t know unless she opened her eyes, but that task seemed monumental. What started out as an explosive pounding in her skull has now lessened. The sensation of her hair being brushed back makes her sigh, a light tickling on the back of her neck makes her shiver under the covers.

The feel of someone or something warm beside her startles her out of her half-conscious, half-asleep state. More whispers and the sensation of warmth starts to move away from her. "Let her stay," Finn says weakly, all her strength zapped with just the simple act of checking to see that Katie had indeed abandoned her own birthday party in search of Finn, finding her and not leaving her side. Finn had missed S’mores and ghost stories and Uncle Charlie dancing silly. Just like she missed the picnic last month to Gig Harbor, the zoo, the fifth-grade graduation in May for her school, the amusement park, planting the garden with her mom and grandma, each time the same, Aunt Julie has a headache. Aunt Julie doesn't feel well. She'll be better soon, don't worry.

What a strange concept adults tried to emulate, don't worry. Worry was always there, Katie saw it in her grandparents faces and voices, her mother's looks and whispered conversations, her aunt Julie promising her everything would be okay more times than she could count.

"I'm not stupid!" Katie had yelled when she questioned Finn's whereabouts hours ago, ignoring the pleas of her family and seeking out her favorite person, the one she trusted the most, who listened to her and didn't dismiss her concerns as just childish or tell her she was too young to understand. She understood plenty. She understood pain, heartbreak, anger, watching Finn be hurt enough times, watching her grandpa fall apart, watching her mother and grandmother hover worriedly over everyone, she hated secrets and lies, being told its okay when it's not. Enough was enough, she decided, I'm grown up, if they won't tell me, I'll find out on my own! And with that headstrong guidance, she finds the nerve to ignore her mother and grandparents and seek Finn out, finding her locked away, crippled by another headache, something she dealt with too much lately. It makes sense, they all agree, watching Katie snuggle closer to Finn, they spend so much time together, they adore each other, she respects the hell out of her, she wants to be just like her, she had declared multiple times in her life thus far. A tall and dangerous order for an eleven-year-old, following in the footsteps of one Julie Finlay, but really, no one could blame her.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

nnatos submitted this mansion for sale in Newtown, Victoria, Australia, called Rannoch House b/c it’s an historic landmark, built in 1851, and there aren’t very many old properties in Australia. $2.250M

I wish I could see a closeup of that newel post. 

It’s a very elegant home, in the Renaissance Revival style, and has been extensively renovated. It does look like new. I’ve never seen such a minimalist mansion, so I’m guessing that the family has already moved out.

Wow, this dining is room is so large, it looks like a board room. 

Hmmm, you can tell the kitchen is old b/c the stove is in what used to be the  fireplace. 

Looks like a billiard room and a game room.

The conservatory is fabulous. 

Stepping outside the conservatory.

The ceilings are so detailed. 

Have you ever seen anything like these drapes? The way they pool on the floor makes them look like liquid gold.

The en suite bath is very modern, but I’m surprised they only put in one sink.

Doesn’t the wine cellar look ancient?

The grounds are gorgeous.

The pool has glass fencing. I wonder who keeps that clean.

Love this stone building that must be a garden house. I wish they would’ve shown the interior.

https://www.realestate.com.au/property-house-vic-newtown-137955942

[vullcanica]

AESTHETICS FOR ENTITIES PART I.

bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses.

Nikodemus Desalvar

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption. insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief. parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.   shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter. light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants. a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable. winter months in the north.  an empty church.

iv.  the desolation.   senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air. a child born in fire.  death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives.  burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one. disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

v.  the flesh.   body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  the end.   the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial. the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  the eye.   googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries. eyes of different colors.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t watch away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records. a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems.  voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

Tagged by: @vilestblood <3

[deathmcth-archived]

aesthetics for the entities,  part i.          bold what applies to your muse,   italicize what applies situationally or only in certain verses.   rest of the fears here.   this is based on a horror podcast ;  potentially triggering & / or upsetting content ahead!   pt. ii here.

i.  the  buried.          weighed blankets.  drowning.   the comfort of a loved one’s weight.   soil & sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.   cramped hiding spots.   letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.   walls pressing in on you.   not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale.   lonely subways.   feeling like one with the earth.   a layer of dirt on you.   looking for something below.   cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts.   hands calloused from digging.   knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.   entering your final resting place before it kills you.   a storm drowning you out.   dust & sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.          insects.   a close imitation of the natural course of life.   an illness in a community.   a rag that dirties more than it cleans.   an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment.   unbreathable air.   fungi.   one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case.   hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs.   honeycomb patterns.   an ecosystem within a person.   a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.   something pushing up the sewer.   a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.   knowing you belong.   death weeks after impact.   fever.   food that’s gone off.   pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.         shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.   the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see.   hiding under a blanket.   white,  clouded eyes.   months without going outside during sunlight.   pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.   black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night.   time before light was created.   a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.   withering plants.   a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.   a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.   desperate reach for a flashlight.   clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.   winter months in the north.  an empty church.

iv.  the desolation.           senseless pain. warmth of faith.   wax where skin should be.   a blazing fire.   heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family.   losing everything you’ve ever held dear.   so much to live for,  gone so soon.   the smell of gasoline.   touch that scars.   coffee cup that never goes cold.   scorch marks on wood.   inescapably warm air.   a child born in fire.   death of a loved one.   a candle without a flame.   an altar in the middle of the woods.   animals with burnt fur.   plastic explosives.   burning hot metal.   sweating in an interrogation room.   never touching a loved one.   disfigurement.   a kiss that ruins you.   the scent of burning fat.   a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.   the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.   little clothing in cold weather.   a ripple in the air.   trying to cool down in vain.

v.  the flesh.          body horror.   factories.   a hunger for something more filling.   never quite happy with how you look.   the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter.  a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak.   fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.   long nights working out.   more than one heart.   appearance that shapes like clay.   a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot.   knowing to fear pigs.   the butcher’s shop.   plastic surgery.   something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism.   forgetting what you used to look like.   being admired for your appearance & appearance only .teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.   cooking in scarcity.   fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  the end.         the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.   a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.   existential pain.   ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.   gambling with death.  as old as the universe.   soul & spirit tied to an object.   a dream where you die.   closing your eyes for the last time.   the pleas of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it.   a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.   skin that’s freezing to the touch.   an act of desperation.   someone’s life for yours.   an eternity spent alive.   the cost of your selfishness.   watching your own burial.   causing your own burial.   the smell of death. numbness to fear.   words from someone gone.   meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.   multiple near—death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  the eye.        googling something you shouldn’t have.   eureka moments.   the unforgiving lens of a camera.   witness reports.   hidden libraries.   eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.   a death recorded in tape.   a tragedy you can’t look away from.   endangering yourself for knowledge.   truth.   analog records.   a symbol of an eye.   a watch tower.   compulsion to document.   turning on recording devices without thinking about it.   saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information. truth or dare,  without the dare.   a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.   coordinated shelves.   cataloguing systems.  voyeurism.   police report you can’t put down.   reasoning your way out.   smell of old papers.   books that read you back.

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Tagging: @carnivorarium , @phantasmaw, @nvrcmplt, @witchlyy, @killerhubby, @mcnstros, @earthlcved, @mellodiies​, @suender​, @natterghast​, @laplacemail​,  IF YOU HAVENT DONE IT YET STEAL FROM ME!!

[cantuscorvi]

aesthetics for the entities, part I.

bold what applies to your muse, italicize what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering & / or upsetting content ahead!

[ I. the buried . ] weighed blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust & sand speaking to you.

[ II.  the corruption . ] insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

[ III.  the dark . ] shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants.  a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

[ IV.  the desolation . ] senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. a kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

[ V.  the flesh . ] body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

[ VI.  the end . ] the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near—death experiences you refuse to die from.

[ VII.  the eye . ] googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colours. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

tagged by: @nezumivc103221

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