hypochlorous acid

* head like a hole / i'd rather die than give you control .

[hypochlorism]

#HYPOCHLORISM : private & dependent writing blog . affiliated with the blog @talesfm , please do not interact if unaffiliated . this blog may contain nsfw and / or triggering content . written by eva , she/her , 25+ , GMT --- also @detectivist

INTRO / HEADCANONS / PINTEREST / SOUNDTRACK / CH. STUDY

[smokeinmotion]

[sntsholloways]

In the elegant confines of the hotel, soft golden light filtered through the dimly lit corridors, casting a warm glow upon the opulent furnishings that adorned the space. Davika, with her piercing blue eyes reflecting a storm within herself as she gazed out the ceiling tall glass windows, grappled with the weight of her recent adjudication in the unforgiving realm of the underworld. A career chosen but heavily weighing on her mind as the dark claws of this unforgiving world scratched her skin.  

The relentless patter of rain outside seemed to mirror the turmoil in her mind, threatening to exhaust her spirits further. As she fought the urge to indulge in a forbidden cigarette, mindful of the expectations that came with her position and health efforts, Davika found herself drawn inexorably to the secluded smoke area of the Bastion. With each step, she hoped for solitude, a respite from the burdens of her duties, lighting it up with a sigh of satisfaction despite the voice ringing behind her. 

"Should you?" she shot back, tone laced around the curtain of smoke escaping plumb red lips, head turning in the direction of the man disturbing her small semblance of calmness. Better employees than the rain, she supposes. "Is this a master key that grants me access to all spots of the Bastion?" The black coin was fisted from her pockets, held visibly under the light with a chuckle. "You don't have any pot, I assume?"

[hypochlorism]

"uh ---" was all aza could muster up when asked about his presence. she didn't belong there with the trash and the cockroaches and the rain. pretty makeup and a prettier outfit made the contrast between the both of them comically evident. all the cleaner could have found was a blazer two sizes too big for him and a pair of pants that weren't ripped ... why had he even showed up to the damn thing? guess he was curious to see who else would be clapping for the death of a man who'd been named failure.

when a black coin was flashed to him, one of the man's eyebrows twitched, the closest thing to surprise anyone would find splattered on aza ashbridge's face. the drugs usually left him numb to the world; even his yellow haired smoking companion was as compelling as the walls of the fucking bastion. everything felt blurry around the edges, unreal ... the smoke of her cigarette brushed against his skin.

that was the closest he had been to anyone in weeks.

"i reckon that'll unlock a whole bunch, yeah." he agreed. when weed was mentioned, aza found it exceptionally easy to peel his gaze away from the woman. "won't open that one though." he took a long drag this time. a nice deep breath of smoke and smog. "for someone attending crime expo 2024, you sure sound like a cop." aza finally added.

[charliework16]

so real

[anarchicchaos]

Valentina found herself wandering the bastion after her zia's speech. she knew her father wasn't well liked, and she couldn't blame them, which was why she spent most of her life back in sicily until he threatened to cut her off.

"i probably shouldn't be in a lot of places, but here i am." it was a gala after all, and the bastion. "hiding away from the crowd?"

[hypochlorism]

aza offered the young woman a slow blink before allowing his eyes to travel from her head down to her toes. that glance was emptied of desire or appreciation; if anything, aza appeared to be disappointed at all the opulence and glamour oozing from every of valentina's pores. it was a special evening, people were supposed to be dressed nice --- but the idea of having a party after the death of a man ( one of their own, no less! ) left a strange taste in aza's mouth. he moistened his lower lip while gazing down at his ash covered shoes. "hm." he grunted in response when valentina double downed.

it mattered little to him whether she was breaking the rules by being back there or not: it wasn't his business. just like Fracasso's death hadn't been his business : he hadn't been the one who had to mop up the blood.

"i'm no good with crowds." the cleaner mentioned before taking a long drag from his cigarette. "your kinda crowd i mean." he didn't bother looking back at the young woman when he said that. aza could be nice and, a lot of times, he was. but the loud music and sharp-dressed cliques of that evening's event had, unfortunately, left him in a worse mood than usual.

[cunt242]

Visit Original Link

Melvins - Sacrifice

[stavroginas]

Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

[hypochlorism]

𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 / 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

there had been a time in which he had considered quitting tobacco . numbers were stacked up against him : smoking brought a plethora of health risks aza ( or had it been aza's family ? ) had deemed too great and too frightening . but his mother would spend hours scrubbing over the countertops with bleach , breathing in chlorine gas at least twice a week , rubbing it all over the cutlery her family ate with , always buying extra , calling it her best friend ... so aza rolled a cigarette as rain fell over the bastion hotel and he rolled it emptied of remorse . he had tried calling her last year but their home number hadn't worked . had his parents changed it ? had they moved ? had the chemicals finally destroyed mum and dad's breathing systems ? aza placed the cigarette between his lips .

the tobacco hadn't gotten him . not yet , at least .

just when he had finally managed to get his lighter out , aza realised he wasn't alone . someone else lurked in the hotel's designated smoking area ( employees only ! ) . hiding themselves from the february showers , no doubt . when aza spoke , his words came veiled with smoke .

" should you be back here ? "

[shesnake]

Riz Ahmed in Sound of Metal (2019) dir. Darius Marder

[cutebutthole]

[hypochlorism]

HEAD LIKE A HOLE / I'D RATHER DIE THAN GIVE YOU CONTROL

#HYPOCHLORISM : chain-smoker with empty ashtrays , issues with eye contact , an obnoxious amount of cassette tapes , functioning insomniac , burner phones , ripped clothes but pristine fingernails , conspiracy theory aficionado , barker not a biter , "no future" stickers , pessimistic monologues , never ending knowledge on cleaning product brands , hidden softness , family disappointment , "can i pet your cat" , snarkiness as a defense mechanism , meaningless tattoos , volume maxed out , headphones on , wiping everything after touching , [...]

TW : suggested substance abuse , suggested violence + gore , emotional & psychological fatigue [...]

--- ABOUT

NAME: Aza Bilal Ashbridge ALIAS: Az , Mr. Clean , Blockhead , Dick-face , [...] AGE: Forty GENDER: Cis Male SEXUALITY: Bisexual MARITAL STATUS: Single

DOB: November 9th BIRTHPLACE: Brighton , England CURRENT RESIDENCE: London , England , a small two-bedroom apartment in Peckham which he shares with his cat Albini and hundreds of cassette tape filled boxes OCCUPATION: Cleaner @ The Bastion Hotel

Efficient and trustworthy service for the mere price of one gold coin per body! Aza Ashbridge for all of your evidence erasing needs. If you would like, Aza will also do a thorough clean-up of the crime scene though that may cost extra.

--- APPEARANCE

FACE: Riz Ahmed HEIGHT: 5'8" / 1.72 m ETHNICITY: British-Pakistani HAIR: Black and thick, usually kept short or shaved, Aza has begun to bleach it at home. This colour change began shortly after a nasty breakup and is likely to be just a phase EYES: Large and brown, though Aza tends to avoid making eye contact with people he does not wish to get attached to, he is often described as having kind eyes --- this compliment may be redacted as soon as Aza opens his mouth PHYSIQUE: Lean, not particularly muscled but not scrawny either, Aza has the body of someone who might have had a rigorous daily workout routine once upon a time but that has ceased to do so in recent years

DISTINCTIVE MARKS: His body is covered with dozens of small tattoos. Most of them have an ironic streak to them, others are absolutely nonsensical, some are downright ugly, there's no meaning or reason to the sentences and doodles on his skin . The most visible and intriguing tattoo is the one sitting between his neck and chest which reads "hypochlororous acid". His clothing style is also unmistakably ... unique . Most of them are worn-out , ripped or have holes in them . Everything is bought second-hand , some shirts seem either too big or too small for him , colour coordination is unimportant , if there is a method to his wardrobe , it remains a complete mystery to those who interact with him .

--- PERSONALITY

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good STRENGTHS: Dedicated , focused , observant , intelligent , efficient , confident , independent , creative , resourceful , patient , hard-working [...] WEAKNESSES: Snarky , lonely , inconvenient , blunt , pessimistic , paranoid , stubborn , avoidant , harsh , demanding , obsessive , [...]

SKILLS: Cleaning after others' messes with astounding precision , some knowledge in chemistry and anatomy , understands Urdu but unfortunately cannot speak it fluently , can play the guitar and the piano , drives a motorcycle , makes a mean cup of tea

HABITS: Regularly takes sleeping pills to combat insomnia , smokes weed on a semi-regular basis though it has become more regular in the past year and a half , a smoker of tobacco as well , a social drinker which doesn't venture beyond the realm of beer , cannot fall asleep in complete silence must pop in the one cassette tape he has with the sounds of Aza scrubbing someone's brains off the floor on a loop , avid petter of all cats

--- HISTORY

Born in Brighton, Aza's parents always expected great things from their only child. The pressure of him having to get the best grades in class and the best performance in the school play and the best scores in P.E. wasn't lost on young Aza. And while his mother and father dreamed up the magnificent future their son would have as he applied for college, Aza became increasingly enamoured with the art scene in Brighton; a vibrant world of experimental theatre and noise bands slowly pulled him in. It was when his mother caught of whiff of weed coming from his son's clothes that Aza got shipped up to the capital to live and work for his uncle.

A promising young man was suddenly stuck doing janitorial work at a car rental place. Mopping floors, dusting, fixing the angle of the clock on the wall, you know the deal. Needless to say Aza wasn't happy about it. He was even more unhappy whenever his parents would call to check with his uncle if whatever story Aza had told them earlier was true or a web of insidious lies --- But Aza had never been a bad kid. Heck, he had never even been a rebellious kid. It was when his uncle smacked him across the face for talking back to a costumer that Aza decided he had had it. He pissed in his uncle's gas tank and disappeared into the night.

Aza was nineteen when he cut ties with his family. He never stopped working since then; he's been a janitor, a cashier, a bartender, a dog-walker, a gas station clerk, a grave digger, a dish washer, a fucking mall santa , you name it.

It's when he gets this contract with a cleaning agency which specialises in crime scenes that things really start to get weird.

They offered a pay check better than any other job Aza had ever had, but the things he saw ... He doesn't like to talk about it. Thinks it's rude for people to even ask. Aza wasn't ready for the casualness of vacuuming cranium shards trapped behind the sofa or having to wear extra-thick gloves to pick up someone's flesh off the mini-bar. The violence of it all shook Aza to his core but, surprise surprise, he was great at cleaning that shit up.

The faster he could get everything back to the way it was, the faster he could go back to pretending that this stuff didn't happen. Aza had an eye for detail and, soon, he became the cleaning company's golden boy. It was also around that time that the insomnias started.

Seeing good regular people diced into pieces didn't do Aza any good. Despite the money he was making, it was not enough to make-up for the emotional toll such imagery brought. He was ready to quit. But he was trapped with the sleepless nights, an inability to be left alone with his thoughts and a growing sense of paranoia that he too could suffer a fate as violent as all those people he had mopped up.

Still, he needed the cash and his relationship was jeopardised by the psychological and economical turmoil Aza had fallen into. He was a wreck. One faithful night, while crying over drinks with a colleague, he was given a name; The Bastion Hotel.

Not a bad place to make a big buck and certainly not the kind of work in which you have to worry about running into good people.

Aza didn't know what that meant. He still cringes when he thinks about how he must have looked; red-eyed and hunching, practically begging for a job interview.

He still can't sleep. He is still faced with plenty of dead bodies. But, at the very least, Aza has come to terms with the fact that nothing really matters. All of the efforts his parents put into his education? Meaningless. His girlfriend of five years who bounced as soon as things got rough? Meaningless. His collection of cassette tapes being a clear attempt of Aza trying to hold on to a time in which life was simpler? Meaningless.

Freedom? Ethics? Faith? Big fucking deal.

--- EXTRAS

INSPIRED BY: Lisbeth Salander (TGWTDT), Rustin Cohle (True Detective), The Narrator (Fight Club), Elliot Alderson (Mr. Robot), [...] WANTED DYNAMICS: Under construction / currently everything and anything!

[stavroginas]

Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

[mudvi-deactivated20240316]

Visit Original Link