#razorwiires

[joyfulstabbings]

@razorwiires​ // c:

[TEXT] Unknown: (｡・//ε//・｡) "パチパチ パチパチ"

[stabyouth]

𓊔﹒𓌹 𓂃 𓌺   𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝙽𝚈 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝙸𝙽  frank morrison’s shiny new life that continue to remind him of his late mother. thoughts drift to the image of a woman on the nod, her long blonde hair a river of dressed flax, glossy yet frayed, like the ends of a worn yellow shoelace (then, a shiver, as if someone’s dripped ice-water down the curvature of her spine, staining her white tulle nightgown and making it stick to the pale surface of her doll skin). one of those many things is the way that he answers the phone. it’s unintentional yet cyclical, the recurrent, clement tilt of his tone, almost sing-song but slightly rough, like a slightly begrudged but straining telemarketer. “ 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙤? ” he dreads it, but can’t help it. too familiar. 

but what he hates more is the lack of response. there’s only deafening silence on the other end; that hollow, droning buzz. weird. he wraps his finger around the bright red phone cord, curling it once, twice. the television in his half-bedroom apartment— a dingy, claustrophobic mess, perhaps even messier than his room was when he lived with clive if only because recently he’s been eating nothing save chinese and takeaway pizza— is turned to static. when the phone rang, he’d dimmed it down to a muted hiss. he walks over to it, the phone cord straining, and gives it a firm smack! with the palm of his free hand. the screen flickers black, then blinks back to a commercial break on mtv. whoever’s on the other end would be able to hear it, muffled but evident. his nose twitches. “ 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐠𝐮𝐲. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬. ”     🔪 @razorwiires​

[evilwithiin]

Continued from here. 

@razorwiires​

A  figure  can  be  seen  amongst  the  trees,  shadow  shifting  in  the  fog.  It  does  not  ever  appear  human,  but  The  Shape  knows  it  to  be.  Glimpses  of  a  person  only  to  be  replaced  by  something  animalistic.  A  pig.  It  is  not  understood,  but  that  is  of  no  consequence.  He  does  not  watch  to  learn.  He  watches  to  WATCH.  

In  this  moment,  The  Shape  is  aware  that  she  sees  him  watching.  Will  she  insist  that  he  stop?  Michael  is  not  inclined  to  move  on  just  now.  He  is  resting  in  the  forest,  the  stasis  before  the  chase.  

If  she  wishes  secrecy,  the  pig  will  move.  

[illsuiteddowner-old]

@razorwiires

It hadn’t taken more than a few gruesome murders for Arthur to get the idea. Repair the generators and get out, or die in horrible agony on a hook. Arthur was reasonably sure he had died in the toxic fog and this was Hell, but “keep calm and carry on” was the way of the Englishman.

The killers were all a blur to him; he thought certain ones repeated, but it was still hard to tell them apart. They were all terrifying, and most of them huge, unnatural monsters, bigger than anyone Arthur had ever seen. He’d quickly realized that the best strategy to avoid getting murdered was the same as it had been with the police that patrolled Wellington Wells: to make sure they never noticed you. He wasn’t strong enough to fight back. All he had was that he was good at blending in to the background.

He didn’t think he’d seen this killer before--he felt like the pig mask would have jogged his memory if he had--but he’d managed to avoid her. His teammates hadn’t been so lucky. Shamefully, Arthur had used their deaths to keep himself hidden in the strange, dirty meat plant he’d found himself in. He didn’t feel as bad for the others he didn’t know when he knew they’d come back, but he was still trapped here alone with the killer, with four more generators to go.

Arthur had never survived this long alone before. He’d always either been one of the first ones to die, or gotten lucky and escaped. Would he either have to die or fix the generators by himself? That seemed impossible. She seemed to always know when he so much as looked at a generator. He had been pushed to his very limits just staying out of sight.

He was very much certain he was going to die, as he crouched behind a metal table, his hand slapped over his mouth to quiet his breathing. She was going to turn around and see him at any moment. He stared at her, his blood rushing in his ears, when it occurred to him: This killer was smaller than the others. It hadn’t seemed to stop her, but she looked almost human. In fact, she looked entirely human, just wearing a weird mask.

Humans in weird masks Arthur could take.

It might have been his only chance to escape. Arthur crept up behind her and, before he could think better of it, tackled her from behind. He wrapped a long arm around her throat and tried to choke her out, stuttering out, “I-I’m so terribly sorry about this.”

[portraversal]

@razorwiires

       The Fog can be a fickle, irritating thing, the beast repeatedly finds.

       The confines of its territory, selected for a Trial. Driven from its own realm, it had thus sought the forest. But claws meet concrete instead of dirt. In place of trees, brick walls and metal shelves and human clutter. Mouthparts twitch and curl inward, briefly drawing tight.

       It regards the white vehicle with disdain. Considers leaving.

       But it recognizes this place. Has hunted the Prey here before. There are bodies, meat, on the lower level, it recalls. Perhaps elsewhere as well. The smell of death here has always been cloying to its senses, and the creature had never been given the chance to investigate before. The possibility of finding food is tempting — if only to learn whether it can scavenge here the next time its supply runs low. Yet the layout is confusing, not well known, and the creature doesn’t discard the chance of there being another Hunter here as well.

       A moment of debate. In time the Demogorgon sets down a portal, before cautiously venturing further in on all fours. If any others are present, it would prefer to minimize the risk of detection.

[jigsawfcrged]

@razorwiires / amanda sent a meme for eric.

❛ it’s too fucking hot in here for me to listen to this bullshit . ❜

               “I’m sorry, would you like me to roll out the red fucking carpet for your junkie ass?  Maybe an iced tonic water would do the trick?”  Sarcasm dripped from his words, contempt bleeding through beneath.  A hand slammed against the table between them before jerking up to jam hard in her direction, his voice raising to a near bellow as he continued.  “Sit your ass in that chair,  and shut your goddamn mouth unless you’ve got something constructive to say to me, you got it?”

[finalvlog]

@razorwiires continued from here

Since waking up in the fog, Alex had gone through a lot of self-reflection. While he’d been somewhat of a leader in life, he couldn’t go through that again here. So many people had died because of him in Hope County, and among the dead were his two best friends. Alex had no interest in forming friendships again. He had no interest in getting close to anyone. It didn’t matter if they couldn’t really die here or if they lived forever in this cyclical hell. There wasn’t enough room inside of him to allow anyone close again. When they were dragged into trials Alex would do what he could to save others. He went out of his way to make sure someone else could survive and escape, even if it meant he was sacrificed. What was a bit more pain and death after what he’d been through? But he remained aloof.

To his surprise, a few of the others had been willing to work through his stand-offish attitude. Alex was polite enough outside of trials, but he would always go stand by himself. Or wander the woods alone. Anything to avoid forming an attachment.

But Dwight was hard to ignore. The guy was earnest to a fault and seemed so desperate for approval. Alex wasn’t ever hostile with him. The de-facto leader was so hesitant that Alex didn’t want to hurt his feelings or make him doubt himself any more than he already did. So they’d become friends of a sort. And then more after the one trial in particular. Alex’s face flushes at the memory. At the way Dwight had taken the initiative. It had shocked Alex to the point of stillness, but then he’d responded in kind and now .  . .  now here they are.

As soon as Dwight stepped in close, Alex grabbed his wrist and they moved away to a quieter space for themselves. The others knew enough to leave them be. The moment they’re out of sight Dwight is on him and Alex cedes control, groaning softly when Dwight’s fingers catch in his hair. A shiver races down his spine when a thumb rolls over his exposed collarbone. Alex’s eyes widen when Dwight whispers close, asking a question he’d never thought to ask of the other survivor. His stomach flips, his brain goes entirely blank, all he can think about is the warmth at his front and how badly he wants it. His heart races, the idea consumes him. Dwight must take his silence as a no because he starts to stutter, backing out before Alex has even said anything. He grabs Dwight’s hand, guides fingers to the front of his throat and holds him there a moment.

Dwight’s a fast learner. He takes the cue and squeezes and Alex’s entire body arches into his, hands scrambling for purchase on his shirt as he drags him closer. His mouth’s already open when Dwight kisses him, and he kisses back. The moment of air he got before is enough, but the tingle of too little is barely chased away when Dwight loosens his grasp for him to take another shaky inhale. A jittery ‘fuck’ is exhaled as he grabs for whatever he can reach. His fingers catch on Dwight’s hat and he pulls it off, hips grinding against him for what purchase he can get. It’s difficult being pinned against the wall as he is, but he tries to make Dwight feel half of how he’s feeling in return with the frantic groping.

The next gasp of air has him nearly on the edge already, Alex doesn’t even have the mental space to be embarrassed about it. He’s lightheaded, unable to worry about the fact that Dwight’s fingers are touching the scar on the side of his neck. His thumb is right beside the tattoo lingering beneath his jaw. Alex’s other hand grabs the hem of Dwight’s pants and yanks him closer. “You’re amazing.” A breathy confession as he takes a moment to stare into Dwight’s eyes.

[womansunshine]

razorwiires asked: “do it. i dare you.” (from Amanda)

Kate has never held a knife in her hand. Not like this, anyway. It’s different when she used to cut up vegetables and fruit back before she got taken by the Entity. She’s never had to use it for self defense and point it at another human being, but things change in the Entity’s Realm. Kate’s kindness and sympathy hasn’t helped her out one bit against these brutal killers, killers tied here against their will just like she is. It’s enough to break anyone down-- being smacked around, stabbed and slashed and mocked. Maybe it’s why during this confrontation with The Pig, when her blade dropped to the floor, Kate scrambled to grab it and held it tight with shaky, bloody hands. The weapon is aimed at the masked woman, fear and fury showing in Kate’s usually soft blue eyes. Do it? Do what? Stab her? Pierce the blade through her chest or slice her neck the way Pig has done to her and her friends many times before? What for? So they can cross paths again in another trial and Pig will hold this against her and target her specifically? Make her life even more of a living hell? No. There’s no point. None of this has any point. 

“No. Not gonna be like you or like the other murderers on your team. Fuck you,” Kate’s voice is shaky as she spits out those nasty words, words usually never said by her. She tosses the blade at Pig’s feet, biting her lip anxiously. “If you’re goin’ to kill me, just do it already. You’ll get the Entity’s approval for it, won’t you?” // @razorwiires