izzy's playlists!
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One Nice Bug Per Day
Peter Solarz
Kaledo Art
cherry valley forever
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oozey mess
DEAR READER
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ojovivo
RMH
KIROKAZE
Show & Tell
Misplaced Lens Cap
Sweet Seals For You, Always
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Andulka
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
seen from Sweden
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@sxmthingwicked
Welcome to my rp blog!!
I'm Heaven, I'm 21+ years old and I have about five years rp experience :)) Please read my rules before interacting.
Historical/Fantasy sideblog: @apxstle
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Icon credit to @cillirishan and header found on PINTEREST!
For sideblog: Profile credit to @editfandom and for header @minzvk on Pinterest <3
Replies coming tonight peeps! :)
“Yes.” Maxine said. “And I’m sorry for your loss. I was told you were close to the victim…to some capacity.” Her superior had mentioned that the sheriff was a pillar of this community, and that Maxine shouldn’t get on her bad side. “Lisa Gregson went missing a month ago, and you recently found her corpse.” Maxine tried to run back the details just in case, in the lightest tone she could. She saw a mournful look on the sheriff's face. Maxine leaned against the chair, hands clasped on her lap.
“Sheriff, there’s just one thing I have to make clear.” She began. “Since you requested help from the Agency, we now take over the case. I would be the agent in charge, with you and your precinct assisting me.” Oftentimes things got lost in bureaucracy and a lack of transparency.
From what she saw, Maxine felt she could be blunt and clear with Josephine. “I am not here to step on anyone's feet. We both want the same thing." Maxine ran a hand over to the back of her neck, before clearing her throat. “I am also told that the funeral is being held in a few days. I would need to examine the body before then, and have the full autopsy report.” She said, “Is it at all possible that I could see the body today?”
Josephine fought off the full body cringe she felt coming on.
The body…the body…the body was Lisa. And there was nothing she could do about it. The funeral was being planned by Jason and the others, he wouldn’t let her parents near it if it killed him. Josephine was all over it though, no matter how much Jason insisted that he could handle it. He was going through enough grief as it was, Josephine didn’t need him traumatizing himself further. They were keeping Lisa in the Caldwell Memorial Hospital morgue, waiting for the autopsy to finish. Their local coroner, Marlon Gates was a family man that lived in Caldwell his entire life.
He knew Josephine’s parents and even helped them get back on their feet when times got hard. “We’re waiting for our coroner to finish the autopsy, but I can take you to the morgue so you can get acquainted…you’re gonna be here for a while, I fear.” She said, It irked her that they had to take over, Josephine couldn’t lie. But if she asked her people to swallow their pride for Lisa’s sake…she could do the same. Josephine rose to her feet, taking the car keys she had stashed in an old, unused vase on her desk. “I assume you drove here, so I guess you can follow me. Places like the precinct and Caldwell memorial hospital are sequestered a little higher on the hill, so people usually drive here.” Josephine explained.
In times long past, Josephine would have given the tour with a happier tone.
“Shall we?”
Tristan anticipated that question. The detective removed his glasses, hand coming up to rub his temple. How he would answer this, would most likely change the dynamic in the room. Tristan didn’t mean to act the way that he did, guarded and snappy at times. There was a reason for it, and now that reason would be out in the open for his new rookie.
“I was part of one.” Tristan said, tone so calm you’d think he was commenting on the weather. “The Sunday cult. Probably heard about it on the news.” Tristan remembered everything like it was yesterday. The screaming, the sirens, the blood. The look on his baby sister's faces when Tristan and Kait pulled out of that church.
His siblings were in Boston, while Tristan moved from place to place. There was a healthy distance, Tristan found himself to be too fucked up to be around. “That’s all you're getting outta me, kid.” Tristan returned to the files with practiced ease. The man had grown accustomed to changing the subject and dodging questions. If Eric knew what was good for him, he would stop asking. Besides, any information he might want, he could find on the internet.
Tristan cleared his throat. His green eyes fell on the clock. 3 am it read, and the man felt the creeping call of sleep beckon him. But he could not. “I’m gonna go get us coffee, I have a feeling neither of us are getting much sleep.” The diner worked 24/7, and if Tristan was correct, that meant Olly was shift right now. “You keep at those files, I’ll be back before you know it.”
Eric gauged from his tone that Tristan wasn’t willing to share any more information, but that didn’t stop the man from growing wide-eyed. His parents had followed that case like moths to a flame—eager to see the righteous defend their path on live television. Hell, Eric was sure his parents would’ve gone up to the compound themselves and begged for a place among them. He had been too young to understand back then—too young to understand a lot of things.
Sleep was an ever-creeping visitor, and Eric found himself fighting off yawns more often than he cared to admit.
He muttered a small thank you to Tristan, turning his back toward the board as the door shut behind him. A cult… what were the odds of that? In his rookie days, Eric used to think that anyone who fell for that sort of thing was just stupid and didn’t deserve much sympathy. He let out a small chuckle at the irony of it now, understanding that the craving for community was never easily quenched. Perhaps it was fear that had birthed that judgment—fear that if Eric ever truly believed there were people out there willing to love him and not hurt him… he’d join them. He liked to remind himself that was as unlikely as it sounded, but his gut still churned. His mind still raced with what-ifs and anxious ponderings.
Gently taking a loose string of red between his fingers, his eyes fell on Gregson. Despite the confident façade, he looked easy enough to trick. This wasn’t Eric being cocky—alright, maybe a little—but he knew what he was talking about. Right as Tristan returned to the office, coffee cups in hand, Eric turned toward him. “When’s the funeral for the victim, anyway?” he asked. “Maybe one of these guys will come to pay their respects.”
Tristan understood. Some things were best left unsaid, he knew that all too well. The man sank back into his leather chair, the material groaning beneath his weight. From his pocket, he drew a small black box. A soft click—light spilled from the desk lamp, and Tristan slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Before him was yet another file, this time with a list of suspects. Tristan would use this time to get Eric updated more and more, so that he wasn’t completely blind in the coming morning. “Give or take two years.” Tristan answered, not bothering to bring his head up to look.
“From what I could gather from locals and law enforcement, they came here around three years ago and settled. The cult shit started around two years back.” He said. “My estimation is that it took a year of preparation for them. The Shepherd and a select group of people squatted in the lodge, and then started recruiting around town.” Tristan extended his hand out, file clasped between his fingers. “Here. Read this. It’s a list of all the suspects we interrogated, and a few more figures in the cult.”
Tristan removed his glasses. A hand ran over his face, the lack of sleep evident. Tristan could not remember the last time he had a decent night's rest. Tonight was no different. “What’s your take on it all?” Tristan leaned against his desk. “From what you’ve seen so far, you think we got a shot at nailing this guy?”
Eric took the file and slowly began to file through it, listening to Tristan explain the timeline of these events. From what he knew now, it was your typical cult, if there was anything typical about them. It started out small, with this Shepherd at its head. He probably preyed on whatever sad sack he could get his hands on, spewing some bullshit about community and finding yourself through finding God. Eric knew it all too well. His parents would have joined this lunatic in a heartbeat.
The file contained names of names that meant nothing to Eric, at least not yet. Locals, local figures, as well as some people that looked a little out of place. He turned the page and was met with an extensive history on Patrick Gregson, the lawyer that defended the cult from any court order that came their way. He looked healthy for his age, with blue eyes and dark hair. He bore a strong resemblance to all Wall-Street assholes Eric ever had the displeasure of meeting and he could only imagine the headache he posed to Tristan in all these years. As the two worked on situating the paper work, small pitter patters were heard against the office window. Soft rain had begun pouring and Eric found himself wishing that he was in bed right now instead of sorting paperwork. Reclaiming his seat by the filing cabinets, he sighed.
From all the cases he had investigated…this went beyond anything that Eric could ever imagine. “I am not a betting man…but no one can run forever.” He said. Looking down at the file, he ran fingers over Gregson’s picture. “There are many ways in which we can make one of these guys flip.” He said. “I think we can…if we gun for the cronies first and then go after the big fish.” He concluded. “You seem to know a lot about this stuff, boss. What’s your story?” Eric asked. It was only fair that he knew at least a little bit about a man who he was going to spend a lot of time with.
Closed Starter
Maxine had never heard of Caldwell before. Apparently, it was a small lumber town in Vermont. It was a poor town, with the community getting by meager tourism, the barely functioning lumber industry, and the fishing business. When the Bureau got the request from one Sheriff Josephine Clarke, Kennedy was placed on the job. Perhaps it was their way of punishing her, for something she was not entirely sure she deserved.
The case Kennedy was placed on was the disappearance, now murder, of Lisa Donnelly. Lisa Donnelly went missing two months ago, and she made national news. Maxine remembered seeing something about her on the news, but she could not say she paid it too much mind. They found her the day before yesterday, in Caldwell bay. Naked, with a large gash to the head. Kennedy was placed on the case way before, but made her trip early since they discovered the body.
Now here she was, fingernails tapping gently against an armchair in the sheriff’s office. The funeral was today. One hell of a time for Agent Kennedy to show up. The door creaked and Maxine shot her gaze up. “Sheriff Clark.” In walked a tall woman, with black hair and blue eyes. She looked to be about Maxine’s age, but the job had worn her own. Max could see that. Maxine got up on her feet, and extended her hand. “Agent Kennedy.” // @sxmthingwicked
The headache was so consistent in its pain, Josephine was sure she was about to keel over. It was the uncomfortable kind, resting on her temple and moving from place to place ever so slightly. With the funeral to prep, case files to organize, Josephine couldn’t even remember the last time she had a gulp of water. She recalled that night…the night she found out about Lisa. She wasn’t even her kid, yet the loss burrowed in Josephine’s chest like an unforgiving storm. It all happened so quickly but Josephine was the Sheriff.
Lisa would have wanted her to do her job.
Caldwell was practically desolate this time of year, the autumn rain foretelling the coming winter storms. The only locals that remained were the working folk…along with the more well-off members of their community. Caldwell had an awful divide between the two, one that only becomes more and more prominent by the richer families. And the Sheriff’s department stands right between the two, keeping up some illusion of peace. Lisa’s murder was one that Josephine and her crew had no resources to spare, so they called the big guns in. Her colleagues were apprehensive, feeling woefully insecure about an Agent being sent on “their turf”. Josephine couldn't say she cared much for this insecurity…she was more occupied with catching whoever did this to Lisa.
She had other people counting on her too.
Josephine entered her office, only to be greeted by Agent Kennedy. She looked about Josephine’s age, though looking a lot more put together. The thing about living in a small town where everyone knows everyone is that no one really expects fancy from you. Josephine took the Agent’s hand and gave it a firm shake, before she took the seat at her desk. “Thank you for coming, Agent. It means a lot to us that you’re here.” Josephine said in a cordial tone. “I suppose you’ve been briefed on why you’re here?” Josephine asked.
“Nah, fuck the report.” Tristan said absentmindedly. The man moved towards his desk in the back room. The name ‘Tristan Monroe, Detective’ written on the glass window in gold foil. Cheap gold foil, mind you. Tristan’s desk was messy, just as he had left it the day before. Papers stacked to the left in a messy fashion, those pointy corners stuck out from all sides. An empty coffee mug, the remnants of a cigarette in a dirty ashtray. Hell it wasn’t even an ashtray, it was a small bowl.
“We don’t need it. Besides, like you said, it’s only gonna give us more logistical bullshit to worry about.” Tristan took a seat behind his desk, pushing himself up against it. Hands ghosted over his familiar chaos, eyes searched for a notepad and a pen he had left behind. “Look, there’s absolutely nothing a man won’t do to justify his actions to himself.” Many cannot stand the idea that they’ve done harm or are actively causing it, there must always be a reason. A cause.
“Tomorrow, we’re gonna get the team together.” Tristan said. He began to jot down something on a piece of paper, having abandoned his search for the notepad. “First order of business for tonight is cataloging.” Tristan said, the annoyance evident in his voice. “We’ve got real shit to do in the morning, but since none of us are sleeping we might as well deal with the paperwork.” At the end of the day, they could’ve caught the Shephard and all those bastards, but because of a document or two they could be set free.
A few minutes passed in silence, Tristan thumbed over the logs and documents with sluggish ease. “What did that cop say to you?” He asked suddenly. “Must’ve said something fucked up for you to beat him like that.”
Eric was relieved that he didn’t need to fill out a report. It wouldn’t get them any closer and nothing really needed to be said officially, as officially not threat had been made. He looked around the office, sensing the familiar in a place he had never stepped foot in. Back home, Eric’s office was one of the few points in his life that he was actually proud of. In one of his many attempts to not succumb to his own mind, Eric paid extra attention to his space. Cleanliness was something that he could never compromise on. Alas, the rest of the precinct was not as keen on his ideals as Eric would have liked. They never touched his office though, no matter how much they teased him for it.
Taking a seat on the chair by the filing cabinets, Eric fumbled with his fingers, clearly stiffing up once he heard Tristan’s question. He knew that eventually he would have to explain his transfer. His vague explanations would lose their satisfaction soon enough and it would become unavoidable. He chuckled softly, bracing himself. He could never get over the queasy feeling that his anxiety gave him, but Eric had made it out before. He knew that this wasn’t going to be much different.
Truth be told, he was ashamed that he had gotten himself here. Ashamed of the emotions that had spilled and of the humiliation that had come after. It had been the end of his shift, the entire precinct was up to its throat in bad press over a case that the chief was, in Eric’s opinion, deliberately sidelining. He had made his opinion known to a reporter and while retrospectively Eric had no regrets on that part, he did wish it turned out differently. Then, by the end of his shift, a beat cop entered Eric’s office, already in a bad mood. He was mumbling, pushing chairs around and so on. It only really got physical when he uttered those faithful words. “Your mommy should have finished the job.’’ he had said.
Soon enough, Eric was thrown in a holding cell with bloody knuckles and a fucked up face. “He um…said something that he shouldn’t have. I lost my cool and had it out with him…next thing you know…here I am.” Eric explained, outstretching his arms in some sort of grant gesture, though he did not want to divulge more than what he felt like right now. Quickly turning to change the subject, Eric rose to his feet and walked to the clip board by Tristan's desk. It was an elaborate investigation into the Shepherd, with a red string connecting him to other people and other locations. This case really was bigger than Eric expected it to be. “How long has the Shepherd been here?” He asked. “You seem to have been following him for a bit.”
click the source for 213 gifs of actress JENNIFER CONNELLY in DARK MATTER S02E02 as DANIELA 2.0(2024). please note that i do not approve of the 5+/- age rule. these were made from scratch and more will be added at my leisure. please don’t edit, repost or claim as your own or i will eat you. tag me if you’re posting edited gif icons for public use. give this post a like or reblog if useful. enjoy !
Hey beautiful people!
Hate to have to give a status update like this again but here it goes. Sorry for being MIA for a bit, my mental health has been in the fucking gutter and work and life have just been hectic! I'm slowly getting out of it and I'm looking for new threads!!! I'm not dropping anything so don't worry and to anyone that I owe an answer to, you'll get it soon! Luv u guys!
open to: muses 30+ or older (everyone) muse: Darius Raventhrone (39 years old. human. demisexual. Umbrakinesis. tattoo artist. he/him)
Darius cursed under his breath." “You’re hurt." He knew it was an obvious observation but the surprise of seeing the other at his door step was still catching up to him." Get inside, come on."
The rain was practically drumming down on Fay, her right arm clutching her left side as she stumbled across the dimly lit streets. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her throat hoarse from forced breaths as she turned one final corner before she arrived where she needed to be. Silently, Fay prayed that Darius would be home. Her clothes, now long drenched with rain water, were also soaked through with blood. Removing her hand from her side, Fay cringed at the crimson sight that greeted her.
She had to fight the sigh of relief she felt bubbling up when Darius opened the door. Stepping inside, Fay struggled to find the words to speak, her head fuzzy with pain. “I…I didn’t know where else to go…”She whispered before a hiss escaped her and her arm went back to her side. "I'm sorry..."
Kyle Gallner as The Demon STRANGE DARLING (2023) dir. JT Mollner
"I think we're both thinking the worst right now," he sighed softly when Josie posed the question of how they might've known about the bugs. Alaric didn't want to think of a possibility of a rat but what was the other option? He blinked down at the floor, trying to think of any hints he could've missed that would help figure out how all of this went south so quickly. "Do you really think Nicky could've been the one to betray us?" Alaric then finally considered. "Surely... surely not?" he paused, before convincing himself. "No– no I'm just losing my mind," he then said firmly. He started to think about how the other could also have been framed. "Forget I said anything at all."
Alaric’s assumption made Josephine’s blood run cold. Surely, Nicky could not be the one to rat them out, if there even was a rat. He was laying on a hospital surgery table fighting for his life, he would not do all of that just to end up like this. “Look…for what it’s worth…I don’t think it’s Nicky.”Josephine said, her gaze now firm on Alaric. “This is all speculation right now…but as soon as Nicky is in the clear, we will need to look into this further.” Josephine said. If what they both thought was true, then they were all in more danger than they would like to admit.
Josephine rose to her feet, her anxiety moving onto not letting her sit still. “I’m sorry…I don’t mean to add onto the stress…guess its’s been a long night for all of us.” She said.
Benson icons | The Passenger (2023)
Hello everyone!!! Super sorry for being gone for a bit!!! Had some work stuff that needed to get done and time got away from me 😔 remaining replies coming soon!!! ❤️
Tristan ran a hand over his face. “No.” He said. “Ever since I came here, they have done no such thing. They did it to our team members, but not to me personally.” And Tristan had a sneaking suspicion he knew why. Tristan’s own history with cults lead him to being a threat to the current cult, and some theorize it’s because they are afraid of Tristan. They don’t need to put dead animals on his doorstep for him to know they’re there.
“I’m guessing your previous boss told you a bit about who I was before you came here?” It was all over the news when it happened. Tristan seldom found someone who didn’t know about it. “My theory is they knew who I was long before I ever showed up. And they don’t want to get too close to me.” The detective shrugged.
“The verses. The cult use them to warn you, and eventually to trap you.” He said. “They want to make you think they’re your friends, that they want to protect you from evil.” Tristan’s eye fell briefly on the raven, and he tried not to gag. As much as he tried, there was something so vile about seeing a living creature butchered like that. That would never change.
Tristan moved towards the front door. “I’m gonna be down at the station. You can come with me, or try to get some sleep.” Though Tristan was apprehensive of the idea of leaving the new recruit alone, seeing as the cult knew where he lived. “But I’m guessing you won’t be doing much sleeping.”
Eric felt his blood run cold.
He wondered if he would ever have to bring it up. Looking at Tristan, remembering his face on the files…but also remembering a young boy being dragged out of a compound all those years ago. Tristan had his own Waco. Eric cleared his throat, simultaneously processing the information and trying to figure out what to say next. What does one say to someone who went through something so traumatic? “I…yes, they told me everything.” Eric said, feeling that for now, that was all that he could say.
Do you know why I’m here? Eric wanted to ask. Does Tristan know that the only reason they met was that a cop said the wrong thing to the wrong guy…? Eric was not proud. If anything, he felt it deep in his bones. The sharp, body shaped guilt, kicking and beating him to a bloody pulp because he dared to show his “true” colors. When they pulled Eric away from that officer, his fists bloody and remorse sidelined…he half-wondered if this was the evil his parents had beaten him so hard to supress. “They fear a survivor…you know how they tick.” Eric stated. “It doesn’t surprise me that they would even target the most faithfully vulnerable. If not to kill them then to join their ranks.” The weak of faith were like months, chasing every flame that came their way. At least, that is how Eric’s father used to put it. Verses were the road signs to the Lord and Eric had memorised that path a long time ago. “This concentration on saving is…interesting. Suppose it’s a bit of a cult signature.” Eric began, moving toward his coat rack and grabbing his jacket, his wish to sleep long abandoned. “ The end is nigh and all that…I swear, it never changes.” Eric said.
The precinct greeted them with that familiar quiet that both men were accustomed to. Eric recalled his rookie days, where patience and learning to enjoy the silence were lessons in themselves. Walking the halls, he began to memorize the layout. Kitchen, bathroom by the supply closet, on the right. Despite these basic facilities, the precinct was your typical low on resources place. All the detective desks occupied the same floor and space, but each desk had enough space between them for people to move semi-freely. There was an empty desk to Eric’s right, which he took to assuming it was his.
He took a seat, his body practically leaning against the chair and his hands going behind his head. There was a stillness between Eric and Tristan, brought on by the mention of the latter’s past. “So…what do we do here? Filling out a report about what happened won’t do much since I didn’t see anyone and wasn’t harmed.” Eric said, pondering their next move.
Tristan stared at the ringing phone for a few seconds before picking it up. As the information came, Tristan breathed in a shaky breath. He had not expected them to act so fast. How did they know? “It’s the cult’s way of saying they know you’re here and they’re watching you.” Tristan explained. As he spoke on the phone, the man hurried around his room looking for his gun and car keys. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Hang tight.” Tristan left the house without a second thought.
Tristan arrived in seven minutes. The detective moved with quick precision. The road was dark, with little streetlights illuminating the sidewalks. Eerie silence, the continuous rhythm of crickets. His boots grazed the ground and left dust in his wake. Tristan approached his colleague with a hesitation reserved for wild animals and unstable unsubs. “Where’s the bird?” Tristan asked. The detective moved up the wooden stairs of Eric’s porch. Nose scrunched at the smell. Tristan tried to make sense of the kind of bird it was.
“You didn’t see anybody?” Tristan snapped out of his analysis of the raven and turned to look at Eric. “Any strange sounds outside the window? Footsteps? Anything?” Tristan’s gaze fell on the note. “I’d say put that on the table. I’ve got some gloves in my car and we’ll take that in as evidence.” Tristan cleared his throat. “Which verse is it?”
Eric released a huff as Tristan analyzed the bird, his blood having run cold as soon as the senior detective confirmed that someone knew he was here. It was one thing to have to deal with the killings of a bunch of religious maniacs and it was another getting targeted by them. Eric just could not catch a break. Instinctively, his hand went to his necklace, twirling the little flame around as Tristan asked questions. “Nah. Heard a loud bang at some point in the night, probably when that bird was dropped off but nothing before or after that.” He said, moving to the far right end of the porch. “Didn’t see anyone either.” Eric said.
He moved carefully so as to not disturb the scene any further, taking the note by the barest edge of the paper so as to not get more prints on it than he needed too. Reading the quote quickly, Eric sighed. “Book of Proverbs, chapter 4, verses 14-15.” Eric said. Once he and Tristan bagged everything properly, the two moved inside. Eric looked around his empty kitchen and felt a familiar wave of shame. “I ain’t got nothing to offer. I thought grocery shopping could wait until tomorrow.” He chuckled, the tiredness clear in his voice.
“Gotta say, haven’t been welcomed like this in a long time. Someone out there seems to be desperate to get to know me.” Eric said. It was too early to tell and Eric didn’t know whether or not this was the first time a detective was targeted, but the act remained interesting all the same. It reminded Eric, regrettably, of his own family and how every need for attention could escalate into something horrible. Was this it? Just a cry for attention gone horribly? A plea to be heard or a demand to be witnessed? Eric supposed that they would both find out soon. “Tell me, sir…this cult…they ever target you like this?”
✰ KYLE GALLNER GIF PACK✰
click the SOURCE LINK for #132 medium sized gifs (245x145) of KYLE GALLNER in STRANGE DARLING (2024). these gifs were made by me from scratch. feel free to use them however you see fit, but please credit me if you use them for a new pack. TW: BLOOD, GUNS, DRUGS, BDSM.
