#opening.

[radioactivehq]

LOADING EPISODE... RADIOACTIVE | S01E01

post da @hiddengossip em uma thread no Twitter

Hidden Hills, Calabasas, onde o vento faz a curva e repórteres não conseguem entrar. É o fim das férias de verão e as aulas vão recomeçar, forçando-os a enfrentar questões que passaram as férias ignorando. Enquanto alguns aproveitaram para se banhar na glória e o poder da juventude, outros passaram por maus bocados, mas um fato é comum a todos: os segredos a serem guardados. 

Álcool entra, fumaça sai, e o dono da casa torce para não ver o sol nascer quadrado. Se esses alunos organizassem sua vida acadêmica com a mesma metodologia que organizam as carreiras de cocaína, talvez não estivessem presos na Correção. Ao menos é o que dizem os alunos do Preparatório, não eu. Não matem o mensageiro.

É bem perceptível que existem... Inimizades dentro do grupo, mas duas presenças em particular trouxeram choque e desagrado para o grupo. Será que essas duas pessoas vão se unir pra causar desagrado ao coletivo? É de se esperar, afinal, uma delas parece ter voltado outra pessoa... Mas não vamos dar nomes aos bois ainda, tem muita água pra rolar debaixo dessa ponte. 

Também temos alguns novatos no grupo, e alguns deles já estão dando o que falar. Uns menos desconhecidos do que outros, se você quer saber minha opinião. Infelizmente não são todos que conseguem entrar em Hidden Hills mesmo sem morar lá. Um feito que, diga-se de passagem, é regularmente feito por uma das convidadas. Não vou citar nomes, claro. Enfim, não fui convidado, mas tenho informantes e stories no Instagram para manter todos atualizados na medida do possível. 

X.O.X.O, 

Starboy

[haonet]

Le Petit Prince.

eyezmagazine. x the8

[2004saw]

Hollow knight.

[scatterbrainswunderkammer]

A Queen Of Magic

QUEEN + Adam Lambert en los #Oscars!

[twiinmasks]

THE STONES HISS AND splutter as his saliva oozes onto their surfaces. Smoke trails from his long back and his maw opens wider than that of a shark’s, breathing in the atmosphere, the dank air and musk of mold. The pits of blue beneath his mask glow even brighter, and if he had eyelids then surely they would widen. As he slithers forward inches from the ground, the sand rustles and scuttles away from him, his shadow parting the dirt like the gods do the sea. He is a snake, a hunter, a predator on the prowl. He is silent and deadly, a wraith, a dark cloud along the horizon. Perhaps he will disappear if you blink.

OF COURSE, HE does not. You draw in one small breath – soundless even to your own ears, especially against the crash of the sea beside you – but he pauses in his stalking. His ears perk up just that much, and his snout turns ever so slightly towards you. You cannot see his face, but you can see the side of his mouth peeking over his shoulder and his splintered, bristling mane, matted and tangled with blood and dirt, and as you watch his mouth splits into a gruesome, ghastly grin. Many fine, pointed black fangs come into sharp relief against the inner blue glow of his mouth, and before you can react he turns towards you in full, eyes blinding and mouth lolling and wild.

THAT LAUGH! Oh, that laugh. That laugh is the sort that curdles blood and makes stomachs turn. That laugh is the sort that chills the bone and chokes the throat. It is mad, mirthful, and mocking – a herald of the end, of a being that is far stronger and greater than you. It belongs to something that knows it could have you any which way it wishes, gnash your arms between its strong teeth and crush your ribs with its broad tail, shake you until neck snaps and run you down until your feet bleed! You will not get away – you never will, not from this apex predator – but that does not stop you from bolting. You stumble over your own two feet, trip over sharp stones and step on bits of glass, but you do not register the pain or the sharp bite of seawater or the wind whipping at your face. It is nothing compared to what you will feel if –

“GOT YOU! GOT YOU, GOT YOU, GOT YOU! HAHA! OH, WHAT FUN THAT WAS, HEARING YOU CRY, HEARING YOU SCREAM! WHAT FUN, WHAT FUN, WHAT FUN! THAT WAS SO FUN! TELL ME, WERE YOU AFRAID? WAS YOUR STOMACH ACID? YOUR BONES JELLY? TELL ME, TELL ME, TELL ME! TELL ME HOW MUCH YOU FEAR ME! TELL ME HOW MUCH YOU’LL BEG TO LET YOU GO! THAT’S IT, THAT’S IT, THAT’S IT! SING FOR ME! PLEAD TO ME! SQUEAL LIKE THE LITTLE PIG YOU ARE! IT DOESN’T MATTER – NONE OF IT MATTERS! I AM THE BEGINNING! I AM THE END! I AM HERE AND I WILL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE! DO YOU HEAR ME? I AM HERE! I AM HERE, I AM HERE, I AM HERE! I HAVE COME AND YOU WILL NOT FORGET ME!”

[twiinmasks]

THE GRASS WILTS wherever she steps. It browns against her hooves and curls inward, droops to the ground as if Life has become too heavy for their slender spines. Her pace is silent and ghostly. A soul could find better puchase on a mirage than upon her. She flits between trees, no trace left behind, no sign she ever existed. A flicker of white burning in the murky gloom. She is silent -- far too much so. Despite her head brushing against leaves and hooves stepping upon gnarled roots, she makes no sound.

AGAINST YOUR BETTER judgement, you trail after her, stumbling in the dark. Your palms scour open on rough bark and your ankles twist on tangled vines, yet still you follow her entracing figure, blinking at you between trunks and underneath branches. A moth to an open flame, you drift towards her, chasing the promise of something you cannot be certain of, tripping over yourself in some unexplainable desperation sitting deep within the pit of your stomach -- the ache to discover, to know, to catch up to the brink of impossibility --

IT IS SOME TIME before you realize you have not seen her pure pelt anywhere. You pause in her bumbling, and the darkness of the forest suddenly presses upon you. You remember you are weak, malleable, and not made for the night. The rustling of leaves and the groaning of wood rivals the roar of blood in your ears. Somewhere above you, a creature chitters, and some distance in front, you swear you hear the snap of a twig underneath a great lumbering foot. Sweat pools at your forehead, underneath your arms, on your palms, makes your hands clammy and your knees weak. The desperation in your stomach turns to acidic fear and faint nausea. You have been led, like a simple creature, like a mouse to a trap, a rodent in a maze, into the deep dark depths of nowhere, and you do not know your way out.

"NOW WILL YOU CHOOSE, PUP? NOW WILL YOU CHOOSE THE ARROW OR THE TEETH? NOW WILL YOU ACCEPT THE KINDRED? COME, SLEEP, REST -- WANDER NO LONGER IN THE DARK. DO NOT BE AFRAID, FOR THE KINDRED HAS FOUND YOU LIKE IT HAS DONE AND WILL ALL THE OTHERS."

[twiinmasks]

HE BREATHES IN the scent of blood and fear and PISS. How deliciously the RANK of humanity spreads across his tongue!

                              "WHEN, LITTLE LAMB? WHEN?“

snarls the angry WOLF, half-STARVED and RABID. FROTHING at the mouth until drool HISSES against the rock beneath him.

AND SHE ASSURES HIM in that ghastly lilt, that terrible whisper, the hollow hush that heralds emptiness and the yawn of dark caves,

                                        ”SOON, DEAR WOLF –                                                        SOON.“