#octc

[queenofbaws]

one coat, two coat + red coat, blue coat a post-canon until dawn fic by TheIcyQueen

The sole survivors of an incident that came to be known as “The Mount Washington Massacre” in 2015, a mysterious and tragic accident that resulted in the deaths of six of their friends and a strange recluse thought to be missing, Chris and Ashley haven’t been coping, well, great. In addition to the seemingly endless spiral of articles, thinkpieces, and God help them, podcasts about the bizarre events (and their involvement therein) making it difficult - if not impossible - to heal, there’s another issue. No one believes what they saw.

After a decade of trying and failing to find something, anything, resembling normalcy in their lives, they make a decision - they need to figure out what really happened that night. But while it’s true they know what to expect (and that they’re hardly the scaredy cats they used to be), there’s one question that reigns supreme: Is the true danger of Blackwood all in their minds, or is there something flesh and bone still biding its time in the pit of the mines?

There's only one way to find out.

Read the first two chapters on AO3 - Link in source!

[queenofbaws]

one coat, two coat + red coat, blue coat a post-canon until dawn fic by TheIcyQueen

As the old adage went, practice was supposed to make perfect—the more you did something, the better you were meant to get at it. In time (and in theory), whatever it was you’d struggled with for so long would become little more than routine. Practice was how writers perfected their prose, how artists’ lines become sharper and more confident, how dancers learned to glide across the floor with movements smooth as silk, how learners’ voices took on the strength and confidence of native speakers’.

Funerals, they’d found, were a strange exception to that rule: The more of those you went to, the harder going to the next became.

Chapters 5 and 6 now on AO3 - Link in source!

[queenofbaws]

one coat, two coat + red coat, blue coat a post-canon until dawn fic by TheIcyQueen

The sunlight seemed swallowed by the forest around them, and from the edges of his vision started a greyness that could’ve been dusk settling down about his shoulders but was almost certainly his consciousness wavering, and at once the woods were full of bodies—bodies fishbelly pale and angular, bodies made of spikes, made of teeth, made of claws and milky eyeballs rolling in sunken sockets. They hung down from branches on simian arms two, three, four times longer than nature had intended, only half-couched by the snow and sleet and at his feet there was a body without its head, and he could hear…he could feel…he could smell…

Chapters 3 and 4 now on AO3 - Link in source!

[queenofbaws]

another week, another wip!!! ;P hey all - currently the majority of my focus is going towards my new dragon age: inquisition fic, the tale(s) of the champion, so if you’re one of the ~5 people who stick around for my da stuff, keep your eyes peeled!!! if you’re NOT one of my da peeps, well, here’s a peek at a couple things i’ve got cookin on other burners!

a lil’ something lil’ hope

“Hey! I’m trying to give us options here, okay? Think about it: Without cell service, we can’t call anyone, we can’t email anyone, John can’t play Candy Crush…”

“I don’t play Candy Crush.” Eyes narrowed in obvious distaste, John glanced over his shoulder towards Daniel. “Why would you think I play Candy Crush?”

“Uh…because you’re a middle-aged guy with a smartphone. You all play Candy Crush.”

John held Daniel’s gaze for a long, long moment, his shoulders rising and falling with a single exasperated breath. He turned back to the bus only after muttering, “I don’t play Candy Crush…” and proceeded to make a show of picking through the rubble again. Then, after a beat, “And I’m not middle-aged.”

and a lil’ something about wearing coats

She had to keep looking ahead or else she’d run into the trees, so she couldn’t look down to check if the snow was still there, and she couldn’t look to her right or else she’d see it.

Not that she couldn’t.

Oh, she saw it there, or almost did, or nearly did, or sort of did, or thought she did, or feared she did—a thing made of angles and points, grey as the patches of skin where the mortician had forgotten to powder Alan’s face before putting him into the satin lining of his casket. It wanted her to look but she wouldn’t. If she looked at it, she’d run headlong into the trees. But it wanted her to look, she felt that want buzzing just beneath her skin. It wanted her to look. It wanted her to look.

Since she’d started walking, it had been trying to get her to turn, to see it, if just for a second. It matched her stride for stride, its sinews creaking in the cold with each jerky lift and drop of its knees, hips, ankles, its ball joints rendered into right angles and spurs. And it spoke to her, of course, it never stopped speaking to her. Its breath rose and fell in the shape of words, but she couldn’t focus long enough to understand it. Still it cooed to her, its tone that of a supplicant, of a judge, of a long-lost face on a water-stained yearbook page, and while its words meant nothing, its voice brought tears to her eyes—they burned then froze then blinded her.

got any wips YOU wanna show off??? now’s the time!!! ;D as always, fingers crossed that you’re all taking care of yourselves out there, whatever that means for you <3

[queenofbaws]

aw dang, came real close to forgetting it was wednesday, huh??? weLP you guys know the deal by now...i’m working on chipping away at my bingo board for challenge month so i’m HOPING to have some fun new stuff ready to post real soon, but until then, here’s a little bite-sized morsel of what is quickly becoming my new baby - one coat, two coat + red coat, blue coat

Then it came back in a rush, not just the cabin but all of it: the sight of Ashley standing in front of the schematics Sam had found in the Psycho’s basement lair, the cold-rot smell of the shed before the blood clotted, the phlegmy sound Fiddler had choked out after his head had hit the snow, the fact they were currently standing in the very last place Jess had stood before Mike had found her mutilated corpse.

His knee throbbed in time with his memory, landing him on the couch amid a cloud of dust.

“There were twelve miners who survived the cave-in,” she said into the air, her voice that of a student teacher uncertainly making her way through her very first lesson plan, or a coffee shop poet working through a mental block, “Fiddler’s journal said he killed six of them, which would leave…six to start with.” As he watched, Ashley raised her arm towards the top of the board, having to lean up onto her tiptoes to reach. One after another after another, she drew six little stickmen; circles for heads, a vertical line for the bodies, a horizontal line for arms, and two diagonals apiece for legs. She let them rest for a second, and once the ink had dried, continued.

“And then…” Even without being able to see her face he knew she’d pulled her lip between her teeth—he could hear it. “And then…there was the Makkapitew.” She pronounced it carefully, almost reverently, as though worried saying it the wrong way after only ever having read it might invoke its wrath.

Or summon it.

as always, hope you guys are hanging in there!!! <3 if you’re taking part in challenge month, i hope you’re having a blast, and if you’re not, well i hope you’re having a blast with...whatever it is YOU’VE been doing lately too! ;)

(if you wanna share a wip of YOURS, hey, feel free to use this as an excuse! go on, say i tagged you - i wanna see what you’re working on!)

[onecalltocuba]

Live Punk broadcast from viruscomun

21 maio 2020

setlist *setlist-roteiro: a ordem das musicas em sua maioria são definidas ao vivo durante o programa e sofrem alterações de ordem

TV Personalities - Part time Punks O Level - East Sheen Reacta - Sus Teenage Filmstars - I Apologise The Times - I Helped Patrick McGoohan Escape Mentol Errors - Irrelevance DEFIANT POSE - Someone Else's War The Cult - I Always Lose My Temper The Freshies - Children of the World Raped - Moving Target

The Vapors - America Horrorcomic - Jesus Crisis VKTMS - No Long Good-Byes Victims - Annette Excel - What Went Wrong Victim - Why Are Fire Engines Red The Victims - Perth is a culture shock Aqui d'el-Rock - Dedicada (A Quem Nos Rouba) Damas Rock - Sabotagem Inocentes - Apenas Conto o Que eu Vi (O que Senti) RESTOS DE NADA - Somos Todos Escravos De Um Balde De Lixo As Mercenárias - Panico Cólera - Palpebrite Ratos De Porão - Velhus Decreptus The Nothing - Scream 'n Cry public disturbance - S&M Recipients - Lunatic Manic Depressives - Going Out With the In Crowd Toxin III - Dog Opera The Eat - One Call To Cuba The Alley Cats - Nothing Means Nothing Anymore

[mrsstephenfinch-blog]

So proud of Felice! She won 2nd place Purchase award at the OCTC Art Show for her ceramic vase, “Babylon”. This means it will be on permanent display somewhere on OCTC campus. She has truly blossomed as an artist over the last two years. She continues to test her skills and to learn new ones. I love her ceramic pieces!! She shares with me and I’m so grateful.She made me a bowl called “Flowerpot”. 💕I love my artist! #octcproud #octc #art #proudartmom #proudmomoffour #ceramics (at Owensboro Community & Technical College) https://www.instagram.com/p/B57mVS0JJ0_lE49X2PL9TiiRl5aNPQAmJ4mzto0/?igshid=5llgtu3cf34j

[mrsstephenfinch-blog]

Honor Flight today for WWII veterans returning from Washington DC. I’m so blessed to live in a free country. Thank you to all that serve or have served our country. OCTC honored you today. #octcproud #octc #veterans #service #military #honorflight #proudtobeanamerican (at Owensboro, Kentucky) https://www.instagram.com/p/B3ut1fBp7CaT48yecI2pFAfykWll904Kt-5_L00/?igshid=9vle0luxnw58