#because it was 1) horror 2) everybody liked it

[diceig]

It probably has already been talked about, but. The lost boys are special, they are set apart from other typical horror movie antagonists because they care about each other. They love each other.

This is proven by three moments;

1. You killed Marko!

The Frog brothers are a target for Paul. Reasons could have been; they were a danger to Paul, or they had simply gotten Paul's attention by getting close to him. This line proves otherwise. Paul does not want to kill the Frog brothers for himself, but as an act of vengeance for Marko. One of the other boys death affected him enough to push him to do something about it.

2. David's reaction

Let's go through the scene;

Marko is staked.

The other three boys are woken up, David screams "You're dead meat!"

He chases the Frog brothers and Sam up to where the sun shines. David gets burnt and has to let them go. He screams and lets go.

One tear falls from his eye. He laughs, "Tomorrow."

The first thing to note is how David doesn't laugh right away. It doesn't match his behavior in his previous hunting scene, where he laughed before going to kill. Instead, he screams. The laugh he gives in the end is also far from what it usually is. It's not loud or joyous.

Like with the previous point, it could be taken as David defending himself, and the tear could be thought to be of pain. But, narratively, the tear isn't necessary to tell he suffered from the burn, he already reacted. A new information it could give would be sadness, or shock, which would be towards the death of Marko.

3. The boys looking for eachother

This is the first scene of the movie, which is used to set the tone and the plot of the movie. It is also the boys' introduction, in which relationships and personalities are explained to the viewer in the most efficient way possible.

David comes first, as the leader. He looks around and sets the path for the other three. Dwayne and Paul follow, and they both turn towards the lasts, with a smile. This explains that the Boys don't just hang out because it's convenient or because they have too, they actively want to stay together. Dwayne and Paul make sure everybody is following and sticking close.

This genuine care the boys have for eachother is the most important reason for why people like them so much as characters. It gives the boys a deeper dynamic, a feeling of group instead of staying individuals.

It also gives dimension to the characters. They cannot be simple animalistic killers with the only desire to stay alive, since they love. This opens a gate. What else do they feel? How 'human' are they? Since so little is seen of the boys, it's free to be intrepreted and imagined as anyone wants.

In short, the boys are brothers <33333 and that's why everyone loves them.

#the lost boys #david lost boys #marko lost boys #paul lost boys #dwayne lost boys #it's the family feels for me

[derangedanomaly]

Part 1: Their s/o is a skeleton pt.1 (Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Horror) - For context

Their s/o is a skeleton PT.2

(Error, Dream, Ink, Swap)

Error:

Oh, he absolutely knows that you're a skeleton because you're dead.

How? He read your file. (Sneaky mf)

He might've been a little interested in you at that time. (Takes this to his grave)

He's the one that's, next to Dust, the MOST prepared! You want bandaids? He has a whole stock of them. You need snack's? Sure, what do you want?

He's like your little hero most of the time, it's actually really cute ❤️

Always ready to step in if you happen to be in danger.

He became a little sap because of you, no one really knows why, or where it come from.

Error speaking to Ink; "I hate you, and I wish I would've never met you! So tell me, why should I help you?!" ".... We've got Y/n-" "I'm in."

Uses his strings to secure you when on missions, since he has Haphephobia.

Really sweet towards you, but an ass to everybody else 💀

"Y/n! I need you to-" Killer spoke, but got cut off by Error. "I'll do it." There's a silence following after that. "Huh? Wha-Why? It's quite...hmm... dangerous." Error scoffed at Killer's dumbness. "Yeah. Exactly I want to do it for Y/n." You awed a little, grateful for Error's kind words.

After they ended their own conversations, you went up to Error, smiling at him. "Error..thank you for doing that!" Error smiled and used his strings to sort of...hug you? "It's no problem. I'd do anything for you..." You blinked and looked at him, confused. "Huh? I'm sorry- what did you say," Error blushed deep yellow and stammered. "A- Uh.. it's nothing! Really..." After awhile of you both staring into each others eyes, Error snapped out of it blushing profusely.

"I GOTTA GO! THE ANTIVOID'S ON FIRE!!!" You laughed as he teleported away. What a liar..heh.

Dream:

Oh my god! You're dead?! Is his immediate reaction. After that follows a quick stammer of these words: "Are you ok?! I mean- you're dead, of course you're not ok! BUT DOES IT STILL HURT?! OH MY GOD!!!!"

He's like a worried mother. 💀

Becomes even more worried when he finds out you're bones are easily breakable.

Someone, please calm him down!

Don't get him wrong, he is usually composed and calm, but he literally went crazy after you told him this mind-blowing fact to him.

I mean, he loves you, very dearly. But he just found out that his crush is actually dead, and is very fragile.

After getting used to this, Dream treats you as if you were made out of porcelain.

He's being so very careful for you. You could be doing anything. Even the simplest of things, and he'd be watching you like a hawk, checking if you'll be ok.

He stopped doing that after you told him it's making you uncomfortable, but decided to instead hold your hand, or lay his hand on your back. (Depending on what you're doing.)

Doesn't bring you on fights on many occasions. (Doesn't like seeing you hurt.)

But if you do end up in a fight, he makes sure to always put you first. No one else matters except you when it comes to fights. Not even himself. He'd rather sacrifice himself then watched you die. 😭

You were watching a movie, when you felt it..the intense gaze....

Like a hawk ready to strike. You silently gulped, turning around. You were met with Dream's gaze. "Uhm...hi Dream..? Something's the matter?" Dream shook his head, his gaze never leaving you. You groaned. You thought he was over this! You turned to him. "Dream! I thought that I told you, that you don't need to watch over me in these situa-" "You're pretty." Everything fell silent, as you let his words sink in. You blinked a few times, red blush starting to appear on your face.

"Huh?" "You're very pretty tonight, Y/n." Is that why he was staring?? You didn't had any words, shock overcoming you. "Um..thank you??" He flashed you a gentle smile, then went up the stairs. What a weird night.

Ink:

Oh, so you weren't born a skeleton? Cool cool. But can you watch thi-

He doesn't care. And it's not because he's an asshole, it's because he doesn't find it really mind-blowing.

He doesn't change his view about you just cause you're dead! Hah!

He's that kind of a friend that would laugh if you'd done something to yourself. Like broke a bone on accident or something. Trust me, he WILL laugh his ass off.

He might be doing all these things, but he did find himself chasing after you. He didn't know that though. (Remember. He doesn't really have emotions..)

He probably never felt these emotions before, so he doesn't know that he loves you, until one specific moment.

The moment where you confess to him. He should feel happy in this moment! But he just feels- sorry. For you. He thinks he doesn't deserve your love, simply because his emotions are fake.

So he studies these emotions further!

He suddenly becomes an expert at love. 🤠

Keeps telling you cringe things, thinking that'd woe you... "I wanna be your sigma baby!" You just look at him in disgust. "Don't... don't do that..."

Ink loves to capture small moments on camera, so he has a ton of pictures with you two! He has them all printed out, sticked on his wall.

Every time he looks at them, he thinks of you. And that just makes him feel...alive.

You were walking down the stairs when you suddenly tripped. You groaned, about to stand up, until you heard a loud crack. Oh no.... your leg bone just broke! Great.. "OH MY GOD! I can't believe you just plummeted a whole flight of stairs!" You groaned even more when you heard the voice of that rat...Ink.

"Ink...can you help me instead of laughing at me?" "No." Was his immediate response before laughing his ass off furthermore. "You're such an ass..." Ink chuckled, suddenly holding you up bridal style. "Yeah, but I'm your ass." You couldn't help but smile. "Yeah. Yeah.."

Swap:

Is kinda...chill? It's actually really weird. You would think he'd freak out the most.

It was actually just cause Error told him beforehand. (Swap bribed him 💀

He was surprised, but didn't change the way he treated you.

The only thing he did is just...admire you from afar.

You kinda became his role model. He just admires you so much! He thinks it's incredible how you can still push forward even in your conditions.

Has kitty bandaids in his pockets prepared just for you :)

Just a lil cutie, always making sure you're ok.

Always encouraging you in everything you do! He's your little cheerleader.

Tried to calm Dream down when he found out. "It's ok Dream! They're ok! Stop overreacting!"

He might be the good guy. But if he finds out...that someone hurt you... he'll personally eliminate them. And he's not really hiding it either. He's actually thriving in it. (Which makes you kinda nervous.)

"S-Swap?" You called out his name. You needed his assistance. Nightmare severely hurt you. Broke a few bones... Swap immediately went to your side.

"Y/n! Are you ok?! What happened?" You frowned and explained him the situation. "Nightmare happened. That's what.." you slowly went to sit down, watching Swap curiously. "...Swap?" You suddenly saw a flick of anger across his face. "I'M GONNA TEAR HIM TO SHREDS THAT EVEN DREAM WON'T RECOGNIZE HIM!!" You jumped, being shocked. You never saw Swap act like this.

He was about to rush out the door, until you stopped him, holding his sleeve. "Swap, no! It's ok...just...help me patch up? Please.." Swap looked at you sadly, until nodding his head going over to the medkit. "I'm sorry...Y/n. I don't know what came over me..." You nodded, wincing from your injuries. "... I'm still going to annihilate him.." you looked at him with confusion. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" "Nothing. Just that I love..." He stopped himself from finishing that sentence. "Tacos. I love Tacos." Swap blurted out avoiding your eye contact.

..

.

"And also you..."

#sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale #undertale fandom #sans au #nightmare sans x reader #dust sans x reader #error sans x reader #killer sans x reader #horror sans x reader #dream sans x reader #ink sans x reader #swap sans x reader

[comicaurora]

YOU WATCHED CENTAURWORLD?!

YOU USED IT AS AN EXAMPLE IN THE TROPE TALK!!!!

It is my favorite and I require to know your thoughts on it.

It's. Hm

So I think it absolutely accomplished what it set out to do, which means it is a successful work of art. But I think what it was aiming for didn't work for me?

In its efforts to play with centaurworld's ridiculousness versus the gritty nightmare of the "real world", it tonally undercuts almost all of its profound moments and then tries to get profound character moments out of squeeky-toy inflatable cartoon characters. Of the main cast, Horse and Wammawink are basically the only ones who get sufficient development to feel like real characters capable of carrying impactful moments, and the rest of the crew are basically walking punchlines - even speedrunning their respective Tragic Backstories doesn't do much to strengthen them, because in the present of the show they're fundamentally joke characters incapable of emotional subtlety. It kinda feels like if a Looney Tunes episode randomly dropped a flashback to baby Daffy Duck being moses'd into the bullrushes as if that mattered to how he functioned now. Plus, once we start jumping back to the Real World again, it turns out all those characters are also wacky in their own way - lots of very quippy dialogue and self-referential humor. Instead of Horse feeling broadly representative of her world's tone, she feels like the most serious character in the entire show - at least until season 2 where her dialogue starts being 50% fart jokes by volume.

Overall I think I loved what they set up in season 1, but not how they paid it off in season 2. There's the themes they establish in season 1 of how centaurworld has a cartoonifying effect on everyone who comes there, and the way this plays to Horse early on is full on cartoon body horror - a realistic horse slowly and inexorably transforming into a parody of itself. I thought that was a fascinating way to frame it, and it was nightmarish to contemplate! It comes to a really strong head in the Whaletaur Shaman episode when her friends seem to finally realize how much she's been struggling and suffering and how, despite it looking like a big joke to everyone, it's profoundly unfunny to her. But while she gets a nice emotional resolution at the end of that episode, the underlying horror is never addressed again. She still seems unhappy with her new cartoon body, but the transformations are from this point forward framed as uncomplicated positives that everybody thinks are funny.

It's purposefully blending comedy and horror together, but the execution feels like the disparate ingredients are hindering each other's effectiveness. The horror stuff rarely gets sufficient gravity and is just left as Hey Look Horrifying Implications, and the jokes are often undermined by all the seriousness left lying around. It's a flavor combination that doesn't work for me.

And then the stuff with the Deertaur and the Princess is incredibly interesting and profound and tragic, and I don't understand why it's happening in the same show as everything else?

Also, this is a minor nitpick, but the musical numbers were astounding in the first season but seemed to experience some sort of weird categorical downgrade in season 2. All the solid numbers were reprises from season 1.

Centaurworld was doing something very much on purpose, and I just don't think I got what that something was.

#asks #not aurora #media recs

[crguang]

haven’t been in the donna tag on ao3 in forever because

1. too many people thought she was a top when shes the bottomest bottom on earth. possessive ≠ top, that woman has never had sex in her life she doesn’t know how to eat pussy let’s all be honest with ourselves here

2. ive read so many fics of her lowkey acting like a baby i couldn’t take it anymore 😭 miranda said mentally underdeveloped she didn’t say CHILD

3. not enough people dipped their toes into the creepy horror possessive donna genre and it’s such a shame… out of all the lords she has the potential to be the scariest (house beneviento literally scared tf out of everybody, me included im never going back there) likeee the hallucinogens all around the house, the dolls, the fact that she has no idea how to interact with people, angie etc. i’m begging here

i kinda miss herrrr shes my baby😢 maybe i’ll go read all the new fics she only had a little over 100 fics when i last checked and that was way before RL😭

#missing her fr #sat talks #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 village #resident evil village

[y-rhywbeth2]

Gods & Clergy: Shar

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Religion | Gods | Shar | Selûne | Bhaal #1 | Bhaal #2 | Mystra | Jergal | Bane #1 | Bane #2 | Bane #3 | Myrkul | Lathander | Kelemvor | Tyr | Helm | Ilmater | Mielikki | Oghma | Gond | Tempus | Silvanus | Talos | Umberlee | Corellon | Moradin | Yondalla | Garl Glittergold | Eilistraee | Lolth | Laduguer | Gruumsh | Bahamut | Tiamat | Amodeus | The rest of the Faerûnian Pantheon --WIP

And back to collecting lore on the evil deities! There's... a lot of information on Shar, so honestly this isn't even all of it just most(?) of it. Most of it isn't relevant anyway...

Overview: What if depression was a religion?

Clergy: If you don't have shit like depression and cptsd you're about to, courtesy of the Nightsinger! Society? Burn it all!

Nightcloaks / Nightbringers: Memory wiping. Whips. Making creepy man-shaped things of pure darkness.

Shar: Don't look her in the eye. Wear earplugs when she speaks. Don't let her kiss you. Avoid the talking severed heads and the tentacles... actually, just avoid this ancient eldritch horror altogether.

-

"Reveal secrets only to fellow members of the faithful. Never follow hope or turn to promises of success. Quench the light of the moon whenever you find it, and hide from it when you cannot prevail. The dark is a time to act, not wait. It is forbidden to strive to better your lot in life or to plan ahead except when directly overseen by the faithful of the Dark Deity. Consorting with the faithful of good deities is a sin except in business dealings or to corrupt them from their beliefs. Obey ranking clergy unless it would result in your own death." "Darkness is your cloak and your spur to action. Strike down the moon and those who serve it, and work against laws and law keepers, rulers and the powerful, by corrupting them and sewing dissension. Weave discord through secrets and rumours and falsehoods, so that all that is now mighty shall in time be swept away, and all that will still remain is in the darkness of Shar. Work in secret when necessary, obey your superiors in the Night Church without question or defiance, and give your life when Shar deems it needful, for you will reap her dark reward." - Shar's Dogma

The interesting thing about Shar, for all her intrinsic hatred of existence, is that she needs people - specifically "she feeds on [people's] suffering." Literally. She eats it. When she consumes their grief and misery, the sudden void of negative emotion causes a temporary surge of euphoria. Due to this relief, many people turn to "Shar's embrace."

Sharrans believe that by following Shar faithfully they will eventually reach an enlightened state beyond all suffering, however all that happens is that they're exposed to suffering and retraumatised again and again until they become resigned to and desensitised to it - their own and others'. Sharrans are much less useful to their goddess if they truly move beyond suffering, and instead the process is simply a cycle of abuse and depression as she farms them for sustenance and power.

As per the teachings: life is inane and existence was a mistake all are cursed to suffer because of Selûne's stupidity. All love withers and dies; you are alone, and always will be. This misery is inherent and inescapable, and it's better to embrace this fact than to hurt yourself by being stupid enough to feel love for others or hope for better.

All rulers and hierarchies are corrupt, according to Sharran doctrine, and everybody should be free to live their lives as they wish free of the laws and "morality" decided for them by others.

Everything that exists deserves to perish, and the right thing to do is to help the entropic process along.

Shar is ever-present, and wanders through the dreams of mortals, prodding at their hidden pains and whispering suggestions to them on how to act upon them. She offers the allure of relief to the poor, the lonely and ostracised, the grieving, the mentally ill... Victims of abuse often turn to her for relief and vengeance. On the every day level, people who need to work or travel at night or in the dark make offerings to her to placate her.

A lay worshipper is referred to as a Dark Follower. Sharrans are forbidden to hope, plan ahead or attempt to improve their miserable lives unless ordered to by the clergy, as part of Shar's design. They must not speak out against a priest, or interrupt any of their rituals and prayers for any reason. Lay worshippers must prove their loyalty and devotion by carrying out one crime or deed under the order of the clergy at least once a year, and try to bring others into the fold. They are strictly forbidden to interact with followers of good aligned deities (so you know stay away from people who follow, like, Selûne, who encourages comforting the lonely and making welcoming spaces for the ostracised; Lliira, who encourages experiencing joy; Lathander, with his thing about optimism and new beginnings... Don't want them hanging out with those people...)

If you have no need of Shar's "aid" then her clergy are at hand to fix that for you.

The members of the Night Church are known collectively as Darshars by outsiders, but they would refer to themselves as Martyrs. They have forfeit their lives to Shar in order to serve her, and know that she will eventually come to claim her due. They're generally under no delusion regarding the fact that their deaths are likely to come sooner rather than later, and Shar's tendency to discard her most powerful, loyal and favoured servants on a whim is well known - for all should experience the loss.

When addressing each other, Darshars address equal and lower ranks as "Brother/Sister/Sibling Night," and their superiors as "Mother/Father Night."

Novices of the faith are called Adepts of the Night. Full priests are Watchers. Hands of Shar have proven themselves in battle, and are placed in charge of several cells. A Darklord or Darklady is a region's senior priest, and sets policy for the church in their area. Nightseers oversee the activities of all Sharrans in a realm (a country). The Flames of Darkness are the highest ranking priests, answering directly to Shar. The standard training of the clergy usually shows, mechanically, through multiclassing as a rogue.

To become a Darshar, each priest much prove themselves by committing some terrible deed or other in Shar's name, after which the goddess will bestow a new name upon them. The nature of the deed and the name is called one's Own Secret.

Unlike lay worshippers, clergy are permitted to seek wealth and power, although it comes with the awareness that these things will not last. "If she uses [powerful individuals] as her tools now, there will come a day when she destroys them utterly, in favor of someone much weaker and very different. For that is the way of Shar. In her words, “Out of the darkness we all come, and to the darkness we all return. Some swifter than others, and many not swiftly enough.”

The senior clergy preach of Shar's "Dark Reward" - the raising of a dead Sharran as undead under the control of the clergy. Typically mindless undead such as zombies and skeletons. If Shar prizes the fallen individual's skills enough then she will actually resurrect them fully, augmented with her power. Such priests are the Shadowed, who have abilities such as turning invisible or into mist. They always bear a mark of Shar's corruption however; their eyes - including the sclera - are pitch black, and they can speak only in hoarse, cold whispers. One of their hands gnarls into a black talon. The rest of her priesthood views them with terror.

Darshars keep their hair long in homage to Shar (whose long hair is iconic). It's usually kept under a black skullcap, but women with naturally dark hair are permitted to forgo the cap because their hair is considered sacred to Shar. Black and purple are worn extensively, as are full body black cloaks and robes.

The black cloaks are called nightcloaks, which are enchanted to enable flight and mute ambient sound when the wearer wills it.

At night, some clergy let their hair down and walk the night, wearing nothing but their nightcloaks and their hair. They leave no barriers between themselves and the darkness that is their goddess.

Some priests wear enchanted wigs, woven into braids that can move and carry things (such as daggers), much like Shar's own hair is said to be animate.

Clerics who disappoint Shar/their superiors are forced to undergo thei penance surrounded by light - "the darkness if for those who deserve it."

Darshars are tasked with making society as miserable to live in as possible, so that more will feel loss and be brought into Shar's Embrace seeking peace. They corrupt the powerful, kill those who can't be corrupted and ferment rebellion, and murder people whose work is improving people's lives. They support thieves guilds and criminal organisations that make civilisation more unsafe and untrustworthy. They do generally avoid war and mass bloodshed, however. Shar requires converts/cattle, and it's hard to do that when they're all dead. Also murdering Selûnites and destroying their bases of worship wherever you can; can't forget that.

When a Darshar commits a murder, they are to ensure that the victim is aware that they died in Shar's name. Provided that this murder isn't being committed to foment strife and chaos by pinning it on somebody else, the Darshar will write Shar's name somewhere nearby with the victim's blood.

They're also to help others avenge slights, and publicise such stories, so that the desperate will turn to the Night Church for justice and vengeance and they do their best to present themselves as the superior option to the god of vengeance, Hoar.

They are to do all of this in utter secrecy, it should never be obvious to others who and what is behind these events. Often Sharran cells will found secret, non-Sharran cabals to do their dirty work for them. Hiring adventurers to commit crimes for them is another way. In order to form these cabals, Sharrans often run secret societies, hedonistic social clubs and false cults. They also maintain ties thieves guilds

Unlike the churches of other evil deities, the Night Church is often outlawed simply because they fundamentally won't stop disrupting society. Occasionally, the church will agree to follow the laws and keep their destruction of people's mental health to manageable, more one-on-one levels, and are allowed to build temples and worship. They have such a temple in Silverymoon, which must begrudgingly co-exist in public with the Selûnites there. Sharran worship is also open in Calaunt, Mulmaster, Scornubel, Sembia and Westgate.

Generally speaking though, the church is happier to remain underground where they can do the work they truly "need" to. The Night Church is explicitly illegal in Waterdeep, Baldur's Gate, Amn, and the entirety of the Dales and Cormyr.

They have a complex hierarchy; they work in cells, and every member has a direct superior they answer to. Multiple cells may be active in the area, and while they may know each other and sometimes lend aid, they don't work together or maintain connections to prevent attempts to crack down on Sharran activity from taking down every cell in the area. Nobody knows the true name of their co-conspirators or their leaders, and many of them die in their attempts to subvert society (getting executed for their crimes is a common way to go).

There are no holy days on the Sharran calendar, except for the Feast of the Moon, which they call the Rising of the Dark. Sharrans gather together for a blood sacrifice, and the lay worshippers are told of the plots and aims they are expected to aid in the coming winter.

The most important daily ritual is Nightfall, held every night. There is a brief payer, sometimes in the form of a ritual dance and sometimes involving a sermon. There is a feast and everybody begins dancing (or joins in, if one already started). If one cannot attend group prayer, then the worshipper must dance alone in Shar's honour, wherever they are. Lay worshippers must also either perform a crime or act of cruelty or report one to the congregation. Nights where the moon is not visible are called the Coming of the Lady and the entire congregation is set to task carrying out acts of vengeance and cruelty in Shar's name.

The Kiss of the Lady is the most important ritual, traditionally declared at the whims of the leading priests in the Temple of Old Night in Calimport (Old Night is the oldest of Shar's temples, built in -373 DR). Shar's worshippers engage in a night-long revel of murder, chaos, horror and cruelty ending in a celebratory feast at daybreak.

Representations of Shar in religious art (typically found in temples) show either a black sphere outlined in magically animated purple flames; or depict her as a smiling human woman with sweeping raven-black hair dressed in swirling black clothes. Her eyes are large, with the irises and sclera being solid purple around black pupils. Her temples are usually built under what appear to be legitimate businesses or private residences.

Those of the clergy chosen by Shar to serve her personally are the Nightcloaks, also called Nightbringers.

They can create supernatural darkness in their surroundings that extinguishes all light

Cause temporary light blindness in others

Erase the memories of the last few minutes from the minds of those around them

Cause nightmares

They can conjure doors made of pure darkness and step through, which makes them seem to have teleported (although they've only turned invisible)

They can cast a veil of illusion magic over their surroundings, making them appear totally different (tailored to whatever the priest wants them to look like)

They are a tiny bit more powerful, physically, while in the darkness, but are a tiny bit weaker when standing in the light of a full moon.

They can wrap darkness around themselves, or another, which fully obscures their features and serves as a minor form of armour (including against magic and psionics). They can see perfectly through the darkness, but effects that require eye-contact can't affect them. If cast on an undead being then they're immune to a cleric's turning ability.

They can create a whip of flickering darkness. The strike of the whip does damage and has the same effect as turning on Undead struck. Contact causes pain so unbearable it may cause seizures. The whip passes through inanimate matter harmlessly, and can't be used to tie people up.

Darkness can be moulded into something vaguely human-shaped under the control of the priest. It levitates in the air and suffocates all sources of light it touches. The priest can vaguely "see" through it if they choose.

They can fire a beam of pure darkness from their outstretched hand, which passes through inanimate matter and non-living beings but causes suffocating cold and pain to the living it strikes. The target it overwhelmed, and struck with a supernatural silencing effect for up to four minutes.

-

The Lady of Loss is a Neutral Evil deity, and her domain has been in different places over the years. Originally her realm, the Palace of Loss, resided in the Grey Wastes of Hades and later moved into the Plane of Shadow (aka the Shadowfell) where it was known as the Palace of Night. After the Plane of Shadow moved closer to the material world during the Spellplague she moved to the Tower of Night, which was in the Astral Plane. Considering that 5e has mostly reversed all of 4e's changes, she has presumably returned to the Palace situated in either the Shadowfell or the Grey Wastes.

Shar is described as a "deeply twisted and perverse being of endless petty hatred and jealousy. [...] She revels in the concealed, in that which is hidden, never to be revealed."

Shar is omnipresent, she is the darkness and she is everywhere. She is aware of every single person, object and action that takes place in the darkness.

Another deity, Ibrandul god of caverns, the Underdark and other dark places within the earth. She felt that this was encroaching on her turf, and she murdered him for the offense and took his portfolio and his worshippers during the Time of Troubles. Most of his followers were unaware of this, because Shar enjoys deception and simply presented herself to them as Ibrandul. She usually used them to attack Selûne's followers without drawing attention to her main church. (As of the Second Sundering Ibrandul is... probably alive again, but for all anyone knows it's still Shar pretending to be him)

Shar has two avatars:

The first is the Nightsinger: a 12ft tall woman wearing a mask made of the feathers of every type, trailing away into the cowl of her cloak. The cloak becomes increasingly intangible as it merges into the nearby darkness. She is constantly singing softly, even when she speaks, and her song feels hauntingly beautiful - and engenders a feelings of tragedy and grief. She can manifest supernatural darkness in her surroundings at will. Her song drains away memory and experience (in mechanics, she drains character levels and inflict the feeblemind spell). Listening to it may cause one to experience an unearthly chill (which inflicts cold damage) and can even cause listeners to drop dead on the spot. -

As the Dark Dancer Shar stands at 7ft tall, and appears as though the night sky has been moulded into the shape of a human woman. Her skin is jet black and glitters with stars. Her eyes are just as dark, and her gaze is both hypnotic and capable of enchanting those who meet it. If she kisses a mortal she places a magical compulsion on them - if they surrender to it they will become her loyal servant, and if they chose to resist the spell will kill them (this is an active choice for the victim - surrender or die). The spell can only be removed by rewriting reality with a wish spell so that it never happened, and the victim is fully prepared to die for Shar.

Shar's hair is prehensile, and moves at her bidding while ignoring the laws of physics (gravity and the wind are irrelevant). She hisses and speaks softly, never raising her voice, even in anger.

Her lesser manifestations involve tendrils of pitch darkness forming where they shouldn't be able to. They writhe, curl and swirl in constant movement, and a nimbus of glowing purple surrounds them. Sometimes one can see a glowing purple eye at the heart of the dark staring at them, but even when the eye isn't visible one can feel a presence within the darkness watching. In some stories, the darkness that blankets the world is described as Shar's hair falling over it. Presumably these are the individual strands. When a tendril touches one of her followers she can transmit her thoughts into their head - sometimes these are instructions or advice, and sometimes she reaches into their minds and numbs their ability to feel pain. She never heals their physical injuries, only allows them to ignore their suffering until they succeed or collapse/drop dead from the damage.

Her messengers take the form of these tentacles and other, more alien, shadow monsters.

Another fun manifestation Shar enjoys is severed human heads that fly through the darkness at night. They fly silently through the darkness, and Shar sees through their eyes, hears through their ears and occasionally speaks through them.

Shar hates all the other gods (especially her sister, and the sun god Lathander (and Amaunator before him)). She has tolerated an alliance with Myrkul, worked with Cyric to cause chaos, and Talona plays the sycophant to her in the hopes that Shar will help her kill Loviatar one day.

In response to the formation of Mystryl's Weave, during the early days of creation, Shar studied it for a while, eventually creating her own form of it - the Shadow Weave (called the Dark Lady's Weave by her followers). Where the Weave forms the tapestry of reality, the Shadow Weave fills the negative space of nonexistence between the gaps. To utilise her Weave "safely", one must be a follower of Shar or have their patron deity request her permission on their behalf. One deity she works with frequently in "lending" her Weave is the drow god Vhaeraun. One who attempts to use the Shadow Weave without her permission will lose part of themself - and it's already pretty good at having horrible side effects and destroying your sanity. It works well for spells that corrupt, destroy, drain life and smother the senses, but is less useful for effects that create.

Shar hopes to kill Mystra and supplant the original Weave so that she will be the only source of power for mages on Toril. Unlike Mystra, she places no restrictions on its use.

-

Shar and Selûne were twin halves of the primordial Two-Faced Goddess born shortly after the birth of the universe. There was no time or space, only a void containing themselves, the Overgod Ao, and shadowy beings known as the Shadevari.

Together they created the planetary bodies of the solar system, including the Earthmother, Chauntea.

When Chauntea begged for warmth to nurture life upon her, the Two-Faced goddess experienced conflicting desire for the first time. Selûne was willing to grant the Earthmother her wish, but for Shar, the very concept was a horrifying antithesis to her very being.

The argument between the two spawned the concepts (and gods) of destruction; such as war, disease and death/murder. Eventually, Selûne reached into the Elemental Plane of Fire and drew a portion of it into Realmspace, and fashioned it into the sun - a process that burned her.

Shar's rage doubled, and she began to snuff out every light she could find in the universe, causing Selûne to tear out a part of her own essence and fashion it into a weapon that she threw at Shar in defence of the new-born life of Realmspace. This portion of Selûne passed through Shar and formed itself into the Weave - the goddess Mystryl (who would one day be called Mystra). Mystryl sided with Selûne, and Shar was forced to concede bitter defeat now that she was utterly outnumbered, and swore revenge against all of them.

Shar retreated into the dark to recover, and found allies amongst the Shadevari, who also shared her resentment at having light and life brought into the previously dark and silent universe.

This battle has left Selûne permanently weakened, and her strength waxes and wanes much like the phases of the moon. The two sisters continue their argument - and Shar is boldest when her sister is at her weakest.

#As always with the long posts I hope this is coherent #Honestly I hear evil goddess with prehensile hair made of darkness and I remember Eris from that animated Sinbad film... #shar's relevant enough to give the game's main tag I think #shadowheart #dark justiciar shadowheart #bg3

[notthefirstfallenangel]

Forbidden to die

Pairing: John Price x Fem!Reader

Warnings: ADULT CONTENT. 18+, language, violence, dark topic, kind mention of rape, blood, angst.

Summary: Captain Price endures the horrors of a Russian prison as a prisoner of war, and finds some solace in his cell neighbour, who helps him stay strong with their late-night chats.

Words: 4.1k

A/N: Please, do not read if you're sensitive to the topics mentioned! AND DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE A MINOR!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Price’s skin was slick with sweat, his joints felt stiff, and he was in pain. Everything was made worse by the hot and humid air that clung to him.

The cell was a cold and wet place. Its dampness had seeped through the ground, creating a pool of water at the bottom of each cell. The moisture settled into the skin, making it feel like a second layer.

The only light came from a few bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling right outside.

The air was wet, like the smell of an abandoned body. The smell of urine was heavy on the air in the cell.

Price could smell death; oh, how he could smell death. He could smell it like a perfume, like a memory.

After a moment, he realised that he smelled the same way.

Price sat in the corner, leaning his back against the wall. The thin pillow was almost flat from long hours of use, and he felt every lump and ridge against the back of his head. The wounds on his back screamed with each movement. His legs stuck out in front of him, toes touching the cold floor, which had been his bed for a month. Every one of his muscles ached, and they felt heavy. He was exhausted and weak. His skin had gone cold and felt like frozen rags.

He could hear his stomach growling like a hungry beast.

“We get dirty, and the world stays clean. That’s the mission,” he whispered to himself. His features were sharp, and his face was thin, like a skull, consumed by hunger. His mouth was dry with a constant thirst for water.

“Are you already losing your mind?” 

The voice was soft, muffled by the steel and concrete walls, and seemed to be coming from a few feet away, in the direction of the cell next to him.

Of course, you heard him. You’d gotten used to bickering in whispers when the guard wasn’t paying attention because too tired or else caught up in their own job.

“I already lost that.” He cursed low and hoarse, his voice low and husky. Sweat trickled down his face, and he wiped it away with his hand.

“Don’t say that.”

“What’s left to keep sane? The food? The water? The rats?”

Price scoffed, his tone sarcastic.

“Me...?” Like a velvet whisper, your voice drifted through the air, barely audible from behind the thick walls. 

“Right. You,” He spoke softly, his voice low.

“. . I think you’re going a little nuts, okay? You don’t want to lose it and leave me here alone, right?”

Price smirked, “You’re the sanest one in here?”

He heard the sound of your sweet, soft giggle. “Yes, that’s why you can’t lose your mind.”

He stayed quiet for some time. There was no sound in the prison save for the wind and the lament of some other prisoners that echoes in the cold Russian night.

“Why the hell are you even in here?”

“I got caught, like everybody in here. like you.”

“That ain’t what I meant.” His accent was thick in his throat. “What were you doing?”

“Undercover...trying to get some info about the Inner Circle.”

The voice of the wind echoes in the prison like a banshee’s lament. It howled as it passed through the open gate and drifted through the prison towers. The wind kissed his skin with icy fingers, nipping and biting at exposed skin, pulling at exposed flesh with frozen fingers.

“What’s your cover story?” he asked.

You hesitated at first: “Mistress of one of Makarov’s lieutenants...Alexi.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not.”

“You were screwing Makarov’s right-hand man?” His voice came out harsher than he intended it to.

“That was part of the job.”

“Right. You were… screwing him for intel.”

He stared at the wall before him, almost picturing you in the cell with him. He imagined your face, your hair, the way you would look at him, sometimes shy and scared. Other times you sounded calm and unapologetic in that attitude that he liked and wanted to see more.

“Someone had to do it,” you said, bringing him back from his thoughts.

Price chuckled, tone thick with scorn. “You volunteered, did you?”

you laughed. “Shut up!”

“Oh, I’ll shut up, alright,” the amusement was evident in his voice.” Don’t want to hear about you riding Makarov’s lapdog.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t killed me... yet.” Your tone was flat, but there was a barely perceptible undercurrent to the message that he couldn’t quite read.“Well, what’s your story?” you added.

“Ain’t as interesting as yours,” he said with a tone like gravel, spitting out each word like a gunshot. His arms crossed over his chest, and he was in the process of becoming a skeleton.

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Took a bullet for my bloke, got myself captured.”

The guard on duty bangs on his cell door and yells, his accent thick, “Shut up in there, or I’ll open the door and break your face.”

 He tried to remain calm, but the tension inside him simmered. He answered in Russian, his tone sharp but still filled with a Scouse accent.

He stared up at the ceiling, the pain in his back a dull throb. The sound of his breath filled his ears, the acrid smell of mold slowly filling the cell.

You didn’t talk for the rest of the night.

Slowly, he drifted off.

The days passed the same: he got up, worked, and if things went well, he got through the day without being beaten up. John looked forward to the night, when he was in his cell and you were in the one next to him. If the night guard was temperate enough, they exchanged words. If not, one of them would knock on the wall, signalling to each other that they were still together and fighting to survive. It became a routine or ritual between them, showing how they still cared about each other despite being separated by the walls. It was a way for them to maintain hope during their captivity.

Price lies alone in his cell. He was dirty, his shirt slightly ripped, and his pants were dusty and rough. His skin was damped and warm from the cold.

His eyes watched the light of the door crack as guards passed by, each moment seeming like an eternity. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he imagined the relief that would come the day they got out of there. He heard a faint knock from the other side of the wall.

The cell walls reverberated with a pattern of short knocks. It was subtle yet unmistakable. He knew it was you, just as you recognised his rhythm. You found a way to connect and communicate even in their respective cells. Your fingers tapped against the walls in the familiar pattern sending a whisper of sound into the dimly lit silence. Although you couldn’t see each other, you knew the other one was waiting and would be able to talk as soon as the guard left.

Price’s eyes flickered to the wall with each knock, his fingertips twitching on the cold floor and his body aching from the day of work. His shoulders sank deep as he strained to hear her voice. He reached out, running a hand roughly across the wall, and knocked back quickly, each tap puncturing the darkness with a sense of hope and calm.

“How’s your back?” you whispered.

Price paused a moment, his eyes flickering with a pang of emotion at your voice. He looked at the wall with a sense of longing and hope. “It still stings some, but- I’m okay. “He paused, his eyes watching the dim light of the door crack.” How’re you, love?”

His voice was quiet, and he couldn’t help but imagine the same bruises and wounds covering your body. 

“I’m okay,” you answered. “Do you think Christmas has passed yet?” you asked after a moment.

“Mm, dunno. Feels like forever.” He shook his head and scoffed. “What a shitty Christmas, eh?”

Your giggle was soft, but it caught his ear.” I always celebrate it with my sister...”

“Aye? What do you two usually do?”

“Get drunk..” you laughed” My favourite moment is when we watch fireworks.”

“Mm, sounds like a good night to me.” His words were soft and a bit hoarse, as if the memory had a bitter tang to it.

“What about you?”

Price paused for a moment as if trying to remember the last Christmas he spent. He hesitated and took a moment before he responded.

The tone of his voice was rough like he had a scratchy throat and was drunk on a humid night. It sent a chill down your spine as the words tiptoed down your skin.

“I’ve probably spent the night drinking and playing cards...I can imagine it’s a lot better with family, though.”

He glanced at the wall quickly before his eyes returned to look outside. The moonlight shined through its small cracked window, giving the room an ethereal glow.

The night air was chill, the temperature a breath above freezing. His hands were cold but not frozen.

Even from that living hell, the sky looked dark and intimate as he got a view inside his cell.

“We’ll spend together the next one then.”

“Aye?” His voice was raspy, full of hoarseness as a smile crossed his lips. “Would be real nice.” He paused, his fingers drumming against the floor.

His eyes traced the wall, darting to your location and feeling the space between you shrink as he imagined how close you were. 

“My sister does the best chocolate chip cookies.”

“sounds lovely.” His fingers twitched lightly. He wanted to touch you, be near you, feel your warmth, softness, and touch. “You know what we should do?”

“What?”

“When we get out here- we got a deal, alright?” He leaned towards the wall, almost as if he was going to jump at it to cross your side. The guards passed by, and Price’s eyes tracked them with a cold scowl. He started speaking again when they were far enough.

“We go to your house- and you show me your family Christmas traditions, alright? Then we get drunk together.” His words were filled with hope and longing. He wants this… “You hear me? Promise?” He whispered.

“Yes, I promise..”.

He almost heard you smile as you pronounced those words.

“We can go see Christmas markets and get drunk enough to puke in a dumpster or somethin’. We’ll sing offkey carols. Have a little dance and put up a little tree.” His words trail off as if he was lost in something far beyond the wall that separates them.

You laughed. “And we should watch the Grinch.”

“Yes, yes. The Grinch.” Price laughed and nodded to himself, eyes tracking the wall. “We’ll take turns telling shitty jokes, eat too many sweets, and give each other stupid gifts. I’ll even watch Elf with you.”

His voice was hoarse with laughter, almost as if he was watching it happen. 

“I already know what to get you,” you said.

“Oh? Do tell.” Price leaned forward, his voice filled with amusement, tenderness, and longing.

“One of those ugly Christmas sweaters,” you said,” maybe the one with Rudolf on it.”

“Mm, good.” He laughed as he tried to picture you in a ridiculous sweater and a Santa hat. “But only if you wear one too. I don’t want you showing me up.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of you standing in front of him in a cheesy sweater, a twinkle in your eyes.

“Of course... we’ll match.”

“And we’ll look good doing it.” He chuckled, and the word ‘good’ hung in the air between the wall. His eyes rested on a spot where he thought you were, “It’s a deal, then.” He reached out, his fingertips brushing the wall and his eyes darting to your voice. He had to fight the urge to try and smash the wall to grab you, his body aching with the need to be near you.

“Yes...once we get out of here...” you whispered.

Price’s voice was thick and husky. “We will.” He said with confidence. “I’ll get us out, love. I’ll get us home.”

“I know...”

Price pressed his forehead against the wall, eyes darting back and forth like he was searching for you. He caressed the wall, his hand rubbing against it with the gentle touch of someone in love. He whispered.

“Love, you keep me sane.” 

“We keep each other sane.”

“Damn straight.” He murmured. 

“I don’t know what will happen to us...If we'll ever get out...but it’s forbidden to die, okay?”

Price smiled and nodded to himself. “Agreed, love.” He breathed deeply and shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips. “Agreed.”

The next day, when he was escorted back into his cell after a long day of work yet again. As soon as the guard left, he smiled, knocking twice on the wall. It took a moment before he heard you knock back twice. His heart filled with joy, and his smile broadened.

Later that night, you spoke in the dark, in the silence of the prison. The cold air blew through the open window, bringing a chill rattling your bones.

“...I think I saw you today...” you said quietly. You felt so distant, yet your voice was so close.

 “Mm, did you?”

“I think so...do you have blonde hair?”

“Blonde hair? I’m afraid I don’t, love.” He chuckled softly, “What, you got a thing for blondes?”

You laughed. “No, I thought it was you...wrong person, I guess.”

“Mm…” His heart skipped a beat as he heard your laughter, and your voice was like sweet honey in his ears. He leaned back against the wall, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “What made you think it was me?” His voice was kind and soft, his words filled with affection and curiosity.

“I don’t know...he had a face that could match your voice”.

“A face that could match my voice?” He chuckled. “Do you think I have a handsome face?”

“I don’t know, I've never seen you.”

“But ya can imagine me, right?” His voice was gentle, his words filled with affection.

“I can, yes...”

“Mm? And how do ya picture me in that head of yours?” 

“You tell me if I’m wrong, okay?” you thought for a moment. “I pictured you tall, with brown hair and brown eyes. No, green. Green eyes?”

“Mm… “He paused a moment, and a small smile spread across his lips. “You got it almost spot-on, love.” His voice broke the silence between you, the walls feeling as thin as air.

“What did I miss?”

“Tall, brown hair, yes…but I have brown eyes.” He paused. “And a pretty handsome face, if I say so myself.” He laughed gently, his voice thick with pride. 

“Don’t you have a special characteristic? Something that would help me identify you, like glasses or something?”

He chuckled, and there was a warmth to his voice as he answered. “That would be my iconic moustache, love.”

“You have moustaches??”

He snorted and burst out laughing. “Just wait till you see me, love. You’ll know the stache, and ya can’t miss it.” His eyes flickered, staring at the wall and imagining your reaction to his moustache - and to his face.

You laughed.

“You’re going to love the stache.” A soft smile crossed his lips, and he let the comment hang before he said something that caused him to smirk as if he was imagining seeing your reaction. “Most men aren’t as handsome as me, love.” He said, his words filled with confidence.

“You’re too confident.” you yawned a little.

“Tired, love?” His voice was tender and low, the word ‘love’ almost inaudible, but it hung thick in the air between you.

“mhm,” you said softly.

He sighed. “I think it’s time for both of us to get some sleep, love.” He leaned against the wall, exhausted and tired. “Good night, love.” He murmured with a soft smile.

“‘Night, John.”

He nodded to himself and stretched, his voice thick with exhaustion. A yawn escaped him as he settled in to get some sleep, the walls feeling far thinner than they actually were.

-

The smell of faeces and blood clogged his nostrils. It was a smell that reminded him of the times he wasn’t allowed to look back when he was running when he first joined the army. It was the smell of fear, the scent of uncertainty. It was the smell of death.

It was like a cross of pungent illness; his stomach churned, but the pain distracted him enough.

The injuries on his back were burning, like fire licking the skin. His left arm was throbbing and practically numb, like his entire left arm was made of jelly.

His stomach growled at him, the sound loud in the dark. His hunger echoed in his head, the painful howl of his voracious appetite.

But in a way, he preferred starving to eat that disgusting soup that tasted like burnt.

That day, the guard on duty was the one who didn’t let them talk. Price sighed and slowly knocked on the wall to let you know that he was still there, still alive.

Silence answered.

Price’s fist clenched as the silence continued. He banged on the wall with all his strength, a grim resolution to the knocking. He knew you were still there - you had to!

Silence.

His voice was ravaged a raspy rattle as if a cancer was eating his throat and lungs.

The hollow thumping of Price’s fists against the wall. The sound was deafening in the room, the echoes bouncing against the walls.

The prison was filled with the slogging of boots trudging along the stone floor, all of these footsteps echoing, bouncing back and forth from cell to cell, like eyes flashing in the darkness.

“Quit that!” a guard shouted from down the hallway.

Price’s face dropped, and he grumbled, but the hammering continued. The guard’s voice came closer, and Price’s eyes narrowed - but he didn’t stop.

Every excuse was good to beat the prisoners up anyways. The guards opened the door and knocked him down with a punch on the jaw.

Price’s head snapped back, and his jaw went numb, causing his words to be muffled and unclear - but he still managed to spit words back at the guard. 

"F-fu-fuck o-off…" He staggered back, a bloody nose dripping onto his lips. His back pressed against the wall.

A hard fist slammed into his gut, and he doubled over in agony. The pain was intense like a white-hot poker stabbed through his stomach and twisted. Price gasped for breath, trying to inhale as he clutched his abdomen.

He heard the guard’s voice shout at him, something about ‘not hearing him again’, but the words didn’t register.

Love - where are you?

That was all he could think of.

He closed his eyes because the world was too painful to bear. His head fell forward, and he cried hot tears. It would be so easy to give up, but something held him together. He couldn’t stop himself from shaking like a dog fresh out of water. Nothing made any sense, but still, he clung to shreds of sanity: he knew his name, he knew his father’s face, the feel of his mother’s embrace, his team, you and that holding on was better than letting go no matter how much pain he felt. The room spun around him as though the floor were turning beneath him like a spinning top. His stomach emptied itself on the floor; two days’ worth of food and water burned its way out and splattered all over the guard’s shoes and pants.

The guard groaned in disgust- he mumbled curses against Price and left him, too disgusted to hit him again.

Price sinked to his knees; his arms were weak and tremble beneath the weight of his body, and the tray clenched in his grip. Sweat beaded down the sides of his face and rolled into his eyes, but he barely blinked, staring ahead blankly like a man in shock or a zombie staring vacantly at its prey. A low rumbling built in his chest before exploding into an agonising growl that silenced the room. Price’s trembling intensified as he rocked back and forth on his knees, unable to control himself.

The pain in his stomach was intense, leaving him dizzy and nauseated. Swallowing the pain and nausea, he felt a sharp pain in his throat and licked his lips. It tastes like blood and vomit.

His disappointment, his shame, his birthright. Again, the contents of his stomach seeped out as he emptied it onto the floor, a tide of bile.

It was late at night when he heard your cell door open and your body being thrown into the room. Then it slammed shut. Your soft, constant groans drifted from the ground to his ears. A shuffle sounds as you pulled yourself away from the door and toward the corner of the room. You could feel your cell shake slightly each time the guard walked by on his rounds, his heavy boots announcing his footsteps that echoed down the long corridor. Your head throbbed, every inch of your skin tight with pain. A massive bruise had swelled up on your cheek where the guard's fist had connected with it. On the ground next to you was a bowl of thin soup, half-eaten by roaches that have scurried across its surface and into the corners.

Your body was tired, broken, and bruised. You felt pain everywhere; your eyebrow fractured open, your ribs cracked, and you were nauseous and light-headed.

Price stirred and listened, his eyes flickering, studying the wall intensely, and he tried to discern what you were doing.

His lips parted to say something, but his words caught in his throat.

He could hear your sobs. You were so quiet, afraid someone could hear how they had broke you down.

Price listened in silence, then closed his eyes and sighed. He pushed himself up to sit on the floor, legs still stretched out in front of him. His lips parted to ask you a question, but he didn’t want to disrupt your grief.

Your sobs slowly transitioned into gasps of breath, your voice catching in your throat. 

Price grimaced at the thought of your abuse. His eyes darted from the wall to the door to see if any guards were nearby. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “What… did they do to you..?”

But he already knew, didn’t he?

"The bastards…motherfuckers…" The anger in Price’s voice was clear. You could almost feel the wall shake as he hit it. Price’s rage and fury came through the walls.

“Stop,” you said, exhausted” They’re going to hear you.”

“Let ’em!” The answer was flat, cold.

“they’re going to beat you up again...We have to be clever, not stupid.”

Price’s fist slammed into the wall, the sound echoing, ringing off the bars. The walls shook from the impact of his knuckles, his fist bursting with warmth.

Price muttered a curse under his breath. He spitted, his voice quiet and gruff in the darkness. It reverberated through their shared cell like thunder, ringing in Price’s ears and ringing in his heart.

There was a small sound, a wet, soggy snuffle. You were crying. He wanted to pull you into his arms, hold you and tell you everything would be alright. But he couldn't.

Instead, he softly whispers, “Don’t forget yourself, love.”

You didn’t answer.

“.. Don’t do this. Don’t let them break you, alright?” Price’s eyes narrowed, and his face hardened. His voice was cold, stern. He struggled to raise himself, his knees weak and his whole body aching. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare!” he hissed.

He could almost picture you curled into yourself, small and scared in the dark. He hated that monsters more than ever for hurting you.

You were what you were, a survivor like him. And he’d do anything to protect you.

“You stay strong. You won’t give in.”

“... we’ll get out of here, right? Together”

“Damn right.”

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #john price #captain price #price #captain john price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #john price x female reader #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #john price angst #x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #captain john price x female reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x y/n #call of duty mw2

[ofbreathandflame]

and also just to add one thing my last point:

i think the toxic canon thing really forms a basis for the foundational problems of the series - narrative. its one of the reasons i believe feyre often gets dubbed an 'unreliable narrator.

because in theory - feyre is not made purposely to be unreliable. honestly - the problem is that the story makes feyre's thoughts declarative for the series as whole. feyre tells us one thing, and the story shows us another.

for example: when the story tells us 'tamlin didn't fight for me,' - its implying that tamlin has the tools to do so. bc the story establishes an entirely difference scenario. we learn that (1) amarantha is madly obsessed with tamlin, so she keeps him next to her every night and (2) tamlin doesn't really have skills to navigate utm. what im saying is - feyre says these things about tamlin which are dubbed 'canon' but they don't actually reflect the reality of the situation. the story gives us to no solutions as to how tamlin could have actually helped feyre under the mountain. and i should also add that feyre couldnt have left ANYWAY -- she made a bargain. had she not did her part, the trials, her life would have just been forfeit.

and then on the flip side - we get told that rhys had to bring feyre to those parties and drug her so would forget (which is dubbed canon) but the reality of the scenario doesn't reflect that. rhysand never had to make feyre dance or embarrass her infront of everybody.

why? let's look at the established information:

rhysand disables the guards through his daemati abilities, so feyre is safe in her cell:

“No more household chores, no more tasks,” he said, his voice an erotic caress. Their yellow eyes went glazed and dull, their sharp teeth gleaming as their mouths slackened. “Tell the others, too. Stay out of her cell, and don’t touch her. If you do, you’re to take your own daggers and gut yourselves. Understood?”Dazed, numb nods, then they blinked and straightened. I hid my trembling. Glamour, mind control—whatever it was he had done, it worked. They beckoned—but didn’t dare touch me. Rhysand smiled at me. “You’re welcome,” he purred as I walked out.”

2. feyre is given a hot meal in her cell everyday - which again, establishes her cell as a relatively safe place:

“From that point on, each morning and evening, a fresh, hot meal appeared in my cell. I gobbled it down but cursed Rhysand’s name anyway. Stuck in the cell, I had nothing to do but ponder Amarantha’s riddle—usually only to wind up with a pounding headache. I recited it again and again and again, but to no avail.”

and even after she has to dance every night, this does not change:

“I awoke ill and exhausted each morning, and though Rhysand’s order to the guards had indeed held, the nightly activities left me thoroughly drained.”

so - the whole point of taking feyre out of cell is instantly negated, as her cell was never a place of torture. if anything - the only person actually making her cell a place of horror was rhysand. when he drugs her, she becomes so sick that she can't keep the food down; he leaves her essentially naked in her cell, so she's cold and shivering, and her leaves her so exhausted that she can't even think about the solving the riddle.

3. nuala and cerridwen have the ability to walk through walls and actually usher feyre through utm without ever being seen or caught:

“a tapestry that hadn’t been there a moment before falling over us, the shadows deepening, solidifying. I had a feeling that if someone pulled back that tapestry, they would see only darkness and stone.”

so when we get this line in maf:

“So we endured it. I made you dress like that so Amarantha wouldn’t suspect, and made you drink the wine so you would not remember the nightly horrors in that mountain.”

or his explanation in tar:

“Working Tamlin into a senseless fury is the best weapon we have against her. Seeing you enter into a fool’s bargain with Amarantha was one thing, but when Tamlin saw my tattoo on your arm … Oh, you should have been born with my abilities, if only to have felt the rage that seeped from him.” I didn’t want to think much about his abilities. “Who’s to say he won’t splatter you as well?” “Perhaps he’ll try—but I have a feeling he’ll kill Amarantha first. That’s what it all boils down to, anyway: even your servitude to me can be blamed on her. So he’ll kill her tomorrow,”

none it actually make sense. we are offered several solutions to how rhys could have respectively helped feyre without sexually assaulting her. like for (1) if he wanted her to forget, he could have given her the wine in her cell (2) he didn't have to bring feyre to those parties. amarantha doesn't even remember feyre is there until rhys brings her, and she never finds out about the food or the guards. (3) nuala and cerridwen can actually walk through walls and veil feyre, so whose to say they couldn't have sneaked feyre from utm (4) rhys can mindspeak which means he could have always just talked to feyre without visiting her cell. (3) his plan of 'making tamlin angry makes no sense as the book already established that amarantha was warded against physical attacks, hence why it makes no sense for the story to demonize tamlin for not fighting back as there's no established canon way he could have. it also makes rhysand's display of fighting amarantha pretty much pointless as if he could have just killed her, he would have just done it earlier. its also why i don't forgive the kiss bc the only valid motivation was rhysand's jealousy which literally is why i can never forgive the kiss. he (and tam) put her in the situation by bringing her there in the first place and putting the paint all over her body (and he literally prove that he could altered the paint at any time so it served no benefit but to dehumanize feyre.

soooooo that's what i mean when i say people take canon without factoring into the story as a whole. if the story doesn't actually have things that back up declarative 'canon' statements, its not useful.

#anti sjm #anti rhysand #anti sjm: feyre archeron #anti feysand #tamlin #anti acotar #anti acomaf #canon discourse #anti feyre

[butchsophiewalten]

03/03/2024 Twitter Space Recap (1/2)

Martin & Kyle did a twitter space (with a late appearance of Eva) in the earliest hours of the day on the 3rd, here's a recap of what they talked about then:

-Kyle brings up that he wants to do a charity stream for the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund! He says Him, Martin, Coral, and Eva would be there playing Lethal Company. He says he plans to do this "sometime this month".

-Martin describes the 'Walten Dog Saga', saying that first the family got Carlitos, who was Sophie's dog, and everybody loved him, but then one day in 1968, they're playing and then Carlitos gets run over. And it's so tragic that they're like, 'no more dogs!', until one day in 1973 Jack runs into this homeless street dog and brings him home, and names him Jaimito, and they have him for a few months before he bites Edd's arm and "almost gives him rabies", so Jack just gives the dog to Susan, and the one week that she has this dog is like the worst week of her life. He pees everywhere, he tears up her furniture, and after a week of that he just peacefully dies while Susan is out of the house.

-Martin says that aspects of episode 5 are inspired by some of the leaked stuff he's seen from Joker 2. "It's a very fairy-tale, unreliable narrator kind of episode."

-Martin spitballs his "perfect idea for a Walten Files game", a PS1-style game where you work as a Bon's Burger's employee, "in the kitchen at 3am making burgers", fixing up orders to be delivered (by another employee, I'm assuming? He mentions 'a guy with a motorcycle', so I think this is what he means. Like pizza delivery.) He talks about how the supply closet would be on the other side of the restaurant, so whenever you run out of ingredients you'd have to walk all the way over there and back in the dark. He says it'd be really funny if there wasn't even anything supernatural in it.

-Martin talks about how it really bothers him when people say or imply that, because The Walten Files takes place in the time period it does, it would be more accurate or make more sense for his characters to be bigoted. He brings up a specific instance where someone asked him how the other BSI employees would treat Chris. "The point that this person was making is that it would make sense for the team to be racist, and I was like 'No, it doesn't make sense! That shouldn't happen, it shouldn't be a thing!'" He goes on to say... "And then it was shit like, [mockingly] 'Why are Sophie and Jenny a couple if it was the 1980s?' and it's like, gay people existed in the 1980s!"

"It's just like, just because something was the thing back then, doesn't mean the characters should do a very bad and harmful thing, y'know? It's a really stupid mindset, in my opinion."

-Kyle talks about this genuinely really funny Showstoppers Halloween special idea he had a long time ago, where the Showstoppers are really excited for the holiday, but for some reason Bon has never heard of Halloween before, and the other Showstoppers have to explain it to him, telling him about costumes and trick-or-treating and everything. And it culminates with them going up to somebody's doorstep to trick-or-treat, and all the Showstoppers are telling Bon that he should go first since he's the newbie, and when he knocks on the door some lady answers, going "Hello! How are-" and then she looks up in horror. And the shot reverses to show like a full, "hyper-realistic" Scary Animatronic Bon looming over to her, with a Text-To-Speech voice going "Trick.... Or.... Treat."

-Martin talks about his own funny showstoppers idea, where Bon, for some inexplicable reason, has the feeling that he is dying. and he spends the whole episode trying to make amends with people and be nice to his friends, like 'I don't hate you, Banny, I really care about you,' 'Boozoo, you can have Bon's Burgers when I'm gone, because you're my friend and I trust you,' etc. And at the end of the episode you find out he just had a tummy ache, and he was being really dramatic about it.

-After some related banter, Martin jokes that it'd be funny if Jack was at a table eating with the rest of the 'Bunny Smiles family', and out of the blue he goes, like, 'I've got a tummy ache! :(' in a really high-pitched voice. Eva, who had joined the space a while earlier, jokes that his normal voice is just him faking it, and the high-pitched voice is what he actually sounds like.

-They talk about various Godzilla movies for a while, and Martin brings up how he really enjoyed the way Minus One managed to connect the narrative between its human and its monster characters, and how that's something he thinks a lot of other monster movies and horror films fail to do.

"Y'know, it's funny, because when I wrote The Walten Files, I always had the idea that like, there are two parts of the story? Part one, which is like, the human drama, and Edd and Molly, and the crash. And then part two, which has more to do with the animatronics and the place itself. And you have this feeling where there's going to be a moment where those two parts connect and link to each other, and I think that's something you gotta have in, like, horror movies, where- it- you can't just like, make up characters, and just put them in the existing world and have them exist, and then just sit around waiting for the killer to appear, y'know?"

-Eva brings up an incident that's been happening in the Walten Files community on Twitter, where some people have been getting some flack over headcanoning members of The Showstoppers as Black. Martin gets really incensed talked about how much this bothers him, saying "I saw that, it's so fucking stupid. If you- It's just common sense! If you look at someone going 'Hey, I think this character would be Black, I headcanon this character as black,' and you go, like 'I'm not comfortable with that,' what the fuck do you mean? How? That's so weird! And that's what I'm saying, it's like, how does it effect the story in any way that would be negative to you? Like, the only way you would be against that, is if you were like, racist. And it's like, huh? And I think, a lot of people bring up the argument that, 'Ah, but this character is clearly intended to be White,' and it's like, who cares! Who gives a shit? Like, that's not, like a valid argument to go against someone for doing something like that. It would be very different if, for example, someone looked at Chris and went, like, 'What if he was White?', it's very different. The context of that is very different, than just headcanoning a character as Black, y'know? That's completely fine and normal. Why would you be against that, that's so weird."

"I find it even funnier, because, from what it looked like, it was because someone said they headcanon Sha as Black, and it's like, that makes so much sense! I mean, like, I think that if Sha had a human design, she'd definitely not- she wouldn't be white... again, if you're against headcanons like that, you- you're not welcome here."

-"We end this stream saying these few words: Headcanoning characters as people of color is great, supporting Palestine is great, uh, being a Zionist is Bad! Being a racist is bad! And if you like Godzilla: I will give you a kiss on the head. Muah!"

___ They ended up holding another Space much later the same day, which I've decided to cover in a separate post, because it's twice as long as this one, and a lot more of the conversation in it was Walten Files-Centric, so the recap will take way longer to write.

#the walten files #twitter space recap #I'm heading right to bed after posting this laalala #I promise I'll write the Big Long recap tomorrow... I can do it...

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 20

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 01/10

Word Count: 7.3K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

Moonlight crested through the window, illuminating the body of the beautiful man lying on the bed. His scars stood out, glowing like those stars that you had stuck on your bedroom ceiling as a kid, so pale and ghostly against the navy blue sheets. Dark brown waves surrounded his head like a halo, making him appear like a peaceful angel in his finally undisturbed slumber. 

You'd woken to him whimpering again, muscles trembling under your hands as he began to plead with an invisible entity that you couldn’t see. You had wrapped your arms around him tightly, whispering in his ear over and over that he was safe, that he was okay, that you had him, until his body calmed, his pleas finally silenced without him ever waking, a small gift. But by that point you had been wide awake, your brain unable to quiet down enough for sleep. 

Knees tucked into your chest, arms wrapped around your shins, you observed Eddie as he slept. Your heart broke at the horrors he must have experienced, at the fact that you could do nothing to help him because you would never get past that locked door. That door that he kept shut tight against you. That door that all the others knew about. They knew what was on the other side, but that would always remain a mystery to you because he’d made a promise or was keeping you safe or whatever other reason he’d concocted to explain why you could never be let in. 

Eyes closing, a tear slipped down your cheek, because you knew you had just placed yourself into another impossible situation. You had willingly stepped right into a relationship with a man that you would never truly know, that you would never fully have. How could you when there would always be a part of him that was a stranger to you? 

You'd told him you could do this, that you could be in a relationship with him knowing that there were things about him you could never know. But could you? You didn’t want to walk away. In such a short time, you'd felt more for him than you had in years with Cam. Eddie stirred up feelings within you that you didn’t even know you were capable of feeling. You were already in too deep for it not to shatter your heart into a million jagged pieces if you ended things.

But how could you watch him suffer night after night and not know the cause of it? How could you ever hope to help him, to be there for him, if you didn’t know what the problem was? You tried to tell herself that it was all new, that one day he would trust you enough, but you didn’t believe it. Every time that veil passed over his face, your heart cracked. Every time his eyes darkened with the ghosts of his past, it fractured that much more. And each time he woke in the night, whimpering, crying for Dustin, flailing to pull away whatever was attacking him, you felt like a weight was crushing your chest, making it impossible to breathe. You wanted to know absolutely everything about him, not even because of your nosiness, but because you cared about him. 

It had been three weeks since you'd started doing whatever this was. Neither of you had put a name to it. You were too scared to bring the topic up again, fearing he would brush you off, insisting that the two of you were just having fun and you didn’t need to define it like he had that one night. But it was anything but just simple fun for you. 

Eddie had burrowed inside of you, crawled under your skin, and flowed through your veins. He had completely inhabited every inch of you. You couldn’t stop thinking about him when he wasn’t around. You found herself looking at the clock at work, just counting down the minutes until the day was over and he’d be there to pick you up because that had become their routine while he’d been working on your car. You actually wished it had taken longer because you loved coming out of work to find him leaning against his van, the way his lips curved up into that special smile that was just for you when he saw you. Now you just counted down the minutes until you could see him again at all. 

It was overwhelming. It was insane. You'd never even done that when you started dating Cam, a silly high school girl. You had no idea what had come over you but you knew you had absolutely no control of it. You weren't a psycho. You didn’t expect him to spend every waking moment with you. You weren't angry if he had other plans. You were just simply excited when those plans included you getting to see his face.

You sat in the dark, watching over him, watching for another nightmare, until the sunlight began streaming through the window. Exhaustion was dragging you down but you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. You'd tried to close your eyes but your thoughts plagued you, worries racing through your brain, not allowing you any peace. You simply sat in the chair, keeping watch over him in case those demons in the darkness of his mind decided to torment him again. 

Rays of light fell across his form, forming a glow over that mass of hair that haloed his head, flecks of gold dancing through, truly making him look like a celestial being. Eddie groaned softly, one arm flinging over his eyes to block it out. Your body stilled, waiting to see if it was just the sunlight or if this was going to be another night terror. 

After your fifth night of being woken by Eddie screaming, begging, and flailing, you had found yourself at the library once again. This time, you'd been researching nightmares. You found information, disturbing dreams that were associated with negative feelings that often woke the person up. That wasn’t what you were dealing with so you'd kept looking.

Finally, after an hour, sitting on the floor in a back corner, surrounded by books, you'd come across the term night terror. They were episodes of screaming, intense fear, and flailing when you were asleep. That sounded about right. You'd continued reading, finding that the cause was mostly unknown but could be triggered by a fever, lack of sleep, or periods of emotional tension, stress, or conflict. 

You had to know more so you had continued to dig until you found a book about post traumatic stress disorder. It was something a person experienced when they had difficulty recovering from a horrific event that they’d either experienced or witnessed. That definitely sounded like it fit what was happening here. Whatever Eddie was trying to yank away from him, the terror in his voice, it was real. He wasn’t just having a nightmare, he was reliving a memory. 

Other symptoms included agitation, irritability, hostility, self-destructive behavior, and social isolation. The person could show a loss of interest or pleasure in things they used to enjoy. They could have feelings of guilt and loneliness. They could also become emotionally detached to those around them and experience unwanted thoughts. It could even manifest physically, coughing pain, sweating, nausea, and trembling. 

You remembered dropping the book, sitting still for what felt like minutes but had turned out to be far longer than that when Marissa had informed you that the library was closing, frowning at the vast amount of books you'd unshelved and had lying around. You had fumbled an apology, gathering them up quickly, offering to help you shelve them but Marissa had taken one look at you and assured you it was okay and you should just go home. 

Knowing what you knew now, you had been watching Eddie closely. Sometimes too closely because he was starting to notice. He’d look at you like you were insane, ask you if his fly was down or something. You played it off because what else could you do? Admit that you'd been digging into the exact thing he’d asked you to leave alone? Tell him that you were looking for signs that he was more disturbed than he was letting on? You didn’t see how that would end well. 

But you couldn’t help watching, waiting for other signs to show themselves. He had the night terrors, he definitely had the irritability. Although that had been significantly better over the last two weeks. He’d been sweet, almost overly so. But his friends had mentioned how he didn’t always partake in things with them anymore. Had he been isolating himself? Was this like a honeymoon period and some of the other signs would rear their head eventually? Had he ever tried to harm himself? Would he?

These were the thoughts that plagued your mind, kept you up all hours of the night, left you walking around in a fog of fatigue, worried and drained. You were downing coffee like it was water, your lifeline that kept you moving forward, kept you making it through your last days of work, kept you balanced. Yesterday afternoon a horrible headache had begun behind your eyes and you'd looked down to find your hands shaking. You were clearly over-caffeinated and probably dehydrated. 

“Hey,” came a gravelly voice thick with sleep and you lifted your eyes to find Eddie, hands running over his face before giving you a sleepy smile. “Why am I all alone? What are you doing all the way over there?”

You shrugged, returning his smile, “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Did I…shit…did I wake you up again?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“No, no. It wasn’t you. I don’t know. I just woke up and I couldn’t fall back asleep but I didn’t want to wake you so I came over here,” you assured, not wanting him to feel guilty for something he couldn’t control, something that tortured him every time his eyes closed. 

“Why couldn't you sleep?” Eddie frowned, rolling onto his side, cheek resting on the palm of his hand. The sheet draped low over his hip, the deep v where his abdomen met his hips catching your eye, a tangle of dark hair just barely visible as if teasing what was waiting just beneath it. Jesus, he looked so good in the morning. He looked so good any time of day.

“Don’t know,” you lied, teeth worrying over your bottom lip, fingers playing with the cuffs of your pajama pants that you'd slid on once you knew there would be no more rest for you tonight. 

“Well, come back,” Eddie urged, his head flopping down on the pillow as he opened his arms wide, lower lip jutting out in the most adorable pout. “I’m so lonely in this big old bed all by myself.”

“You slept in that big old bed all alone just fine before me,” you pointed out. 

“Ugh, way too early for logic, beautiful. Eddie’s brain does not compute before coffee. Come on. Just come back to bed with me. It’s Saturday and we have nowhere to be.”

“Not true,” you reminded him, slowly standing, twisting your torso to work out the muscles that had tensed up after sitting for far too long in one position, your watchful spot on your perch. “We told Robin and Steve that we would meet them for lunch, remember?”

Eddie groaned, his hands grabbing onto your forearms, pulling you into the bed. You snuggled against his chest as those lean arms, covered in tattoos and scars, locked around you. His chin rested on the top of your head which was nuzzled perfectly in his neck, as if it was always meant to be there, as if Eddie was built for you, his shape perfectly made to mold against yours. Rough fingertips slid underneath your shirt, running up and down along your back until you were purring like a kitten, suddenly incredibly sleepy. Your eyes slipped closed, lost in the soothing sound of his heartbeat, the feel of his warm chest against your cheek, his fingers tracing shapes over your skin. 

“Why did we agree to this, again?” grumbled Eddie, plush lips pressing against the top of your head. 

“Because they’re our friends,” you mumbled, slipping, sinking fast, your body desperate for rest as it finally found the peace and relaxation it craved. 

“But someone’s still sleepy,” he chuckled, featherlight kisses across your temple. “You can get a few more hours, baby. Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”

Eddie was humming, the sound so pleasant, soothing, making you feel as if you were floating along on a sea of tranquility. He began to sing and you sighed contentedly, burrowing further into him as you felt the blankets coasting up your arms and over your shoulders. You couldn’t quite make out what the song was, it felt so far away, as if Eddie were singing it from down the street. But his voice was so beautiful, so relaxing, and before you could figure out what it was, you were asleep. 

__________________________________________________________

“Prom Queen, are you ready? If we’re meeting them at one, we gotta get going!” Eddie yelled up the stairs. 

You huffed as you widened your eyes, wiggling the mascara brush through your lashes. Four hours later, you felt much more refreshed, less like the walking dead, but it had given you barely any time to get ready for lunch. Stepping back, you took a look at your reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t great but it was the best you were going to be able to do with the time you'd been given. 

Fluffing up your hair, you darted out of the bathroom and down the stairs where Eddie was waiting at the bottom, obnoxiously tapping his watch. You rolled your eyes, stuck your tongue out at him, and grabbed your purse off the table by the door. A loud crack followed by a sting across the skin of your left asscheek was followed by a low rumbling laugh behind you. 

“Hey!” you yelled, turning to glare at him. 

“Don’t stick your tongue out at me,” he countered, crossing his eyes at you. You flipped him off and he stepped into you, nodding with a grin. “Oh yeah? Is that what you want?”

“Oh my god. We do not have time for that Eddie,” you huffed, pushing his hand away that was now creeping up your skirt. 

“And whose fault is that? We could have had plenty of time if someone wouldn’t have taken so long to get ready. Seriously? I just threw on some clothes from my floor. Why do women have to spend an hour in the bathroom just to go to a burger joint?”

“Because there are far more steps a woman has to go through to be presentable to leave the house. And, I would have had plenty of time if someone wouldn’t have let me sleep until eleven thirty when we were meeting people at one.” 

“Hey, I did it because I know I’m the reason you haven’t been getting much sleep.” His voice was softer now, all traces of teasing gone. His hands came out to grasp your hips, pulling you into him. “I don’t want you face planting into your french fries.” Fingers brushed your hair behind your ear, his lips finding yours in a soft, sweet kiss. “I just wanted you to get a little more sleep.”

“I told you, you weren’t the reason,” you insisted. 

“Did you know that when you lie you press your fingers to your lips?” he smirked, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss to the tips of your digits, pulling you toward the door.

“What? I do not,” you huffed, eyes wide. Did you do that? No one had ever told you that before and you'd never noticed it. You inwardly groaned, knowing now you would obsess about it and then it would become even more obvious that you were lying. 

“You do.” Eddie led you around the van, opening the door for you and helping you up and into the passenger seat. Your eyes followed him as he jogged around the front, hopping into the driver’s seat. “You do it every single time I ask about your sleeping. You did it when I asked if everything was okay at Steve’s a couple weeks ago when we all knew you two were arguing about something. You did it when I burned that chicken the other night and you told me it was delicious. You definitely did it when Mike asked about his new haircut.”

You folded your arms, sinking back into the seat as Eddie drove toward Benny’s Burgers. Shit. Did you do that? Everyone would know when you were lying now. You never tried to lie. You prided yourself on being a pretty honest person but sometimes you had to lie to protect other people, sometimes you lied to not hurt their feelings. Mike’s new haircut was atrocious. He’s tried for the Brad Pitt look but with how thick it was, it didn’t work and it didn’t flop nicely but stuck out. You could never have told him that though when he’d looked at you so hopeful. 

“Look, I know nights with me suck,” Eddie grumbled, thumbs tapping nervously on the steering wheel. “I know what they’re like for me and I can’t imagine what it’s like to wake up to that. Maybe…I don’t know. Maybe we should start sleeping apart more often.”

Your head spun, “Is that what you want?”

“No. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s not what I want but I also don’t want you collapsing from exhaustion. We could still see each other but then maybe not always sleep at the other’s house.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, alright? I’m just trying to make this work. I can’t believe you’ve dealt with it as long as you have. I would have expected you to go running away as far as you could by now.”

“I’m not running anywhere,” you told him, your hand coming to rest on his jean clad thigh, his skin warm where the fabric was frayed. “I just wish you’d…” You trailed off, unable to finish that statement because you knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere anyway. Eddie was never going to let you fully in and you had to learn to accept it or walk away. And walking away wasn’t an option anymore, the very thought caused a band to squeeze uncomfortably around your heart. 

“You just wish what?” he asked, eyes glancing over at you as he turned into the parking lot of the diner. 

“Nothing,” you muttered, head shaking. “It doesn’t matter.” Your eyes caught sight of Steve’s Jeep sitting in the parking lot. “They’re already here and we’re late. Come on.”

Before Eddie could say anything else, you hopped out of the van and began walking with purpose toward the restaurant. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t tell him it was fine and then be moody because it wasn’t. This relationship wouldn’t stand a chance in hell. None of it was fine but you were going to have to push those feelings down, smother them. They’d never fully go away but they could at least fade into the background. 

A large hand wrapped around yours, chunky metal and skin that both managed to be rough and soft at the same time. You glanced up and Eddie smiled, his eyes assessing you. Yeah, this was why you needed to squash that particular concern because Eddie was far too observant. He wouldn't let it go if he thought something was wrong and you could only go around and around about the same issue for so long before it became a serious problem. You'd told him it was fine so it had to be fine. You smiled back, rising on your tiptoes to kiss him and he appeared mollified. 

Eddie opened the door of the diner and you released a slow breath of release as you entered, Eddie just behind you, his hand on the small of your back now, always touching, always in contact. He was a man who needed physical connection, a part of him always pressed against a part of you, and you had zero problems with that. You didn’t think it would ever be possible for him to touch you enough. 

You spotted Robin and Steve who grinned and waved at you from a table in the corner. It was a simple little place, small with dark tables and cream chairs. Gingham curtains hung across the windows that ran along the front. A jukebox stood to the right of the kitchen window where plates of food waited to be delivered to hungry customers. The place was pretty full, letting you know that either the food was good or it was simply one of the few choices in a small town.

Eddie pulled your chair out and you sat across from Robin before he plopped down next to you, across from Steve. Those lanky legs stretched out wide, spreading, the metalhead taking up as much space as he could, larger than life in every situation. His arm draped along the back of your chair, fingers pressing into the skin of your arm. 

“You’re late,” Steve stated, arms folded over his chest.

“Chill out, Harrington. You gonna turn into a pumpkin or something?” Eddie huffed. 

“No, but I’m starving.”

“So, you should have ordered food.”

Steve glared, “Maybe you’re a neanderthal who doesn’t give a shit about common courtesy but I’m not. It’s rude to order before everyone gets to the restaurant, Munson.”

Eddie shrugged, “Whatever. If I was hungry, I would have ordered. Wouldn’t matter to me if everyone was here or not.”

“We’re sorry. I overslept,” you explained. “I…I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Robin’s eyes lit up mischievously, grinning at the pair of you, her chin dropping into her palm, “Oh yeah? I wonder why that could be?”

Your foot connected with Robin’s shin under the table. The blond shrieked and jumped, her knee banging on the underside, rattling the condiments sitting in the middle. Eddie and Steve glanced between the two of you in confusion. 

“Damn, that hurt,” Robin whined, leaning down to rub her palm over the skin. “It’s not like it’s a secret. Everybody knows you two are a couple now.”

You groaned, wanting to kick her again but stopping yourself. It wouldn’t do any good. You'd learned in a very short time that Robin just said whatever was on her mind, not spitefully, simply because there appeared to be no filter between her brain and mouth. No warning bells that went off. Unlike you, who overthought almost every single thing you said, especially when it came to Eddie. 

The waitress, a young girl who looked like she was probably still in high school, approached your table and took your order. Burgers and fries all around with milkshakes. You and Robin went for chocolate, Steve vanilla, and Eddie strawberry. 

“I still can’t believe you managed to snag this girl here,” Steve teased. “I thought for sure she’d punch you in the mouth before she’d ever kiss you.”

“Yeah, well, no one can resist my charms for too long,” Eddie smirked, his hand that wasn’t rubbing over your arm flipping his hair over his shoulder dramatically. 

“I didn’t know being an asshole counted as a charm,” snorted Steve. 

“Fuck off, pretty boy,” Eddie scoffed, tossing a packet of jelly at him. 

Steve’s hand flashed into the air, catching it easily, “Lightning hands, my friend, just ask my baseball coach.”

“Coach Waters? Please. That man was a douche.”

“You just didn’t like him because he always made you run laps,” Robin stated with a grin. 

“Because he hated me.”

“Yeah, because you soaked breadcrumbs in alcohol and littered the football field with them. There was supposed to be a game that night and they couldn’t get the drunk birds off the field!” Robin leaned forward, glaring at him. 

“Whatever, like you care about football.”

“I was in the band, Eddie! I couldn’t play then either!”

“Big loss. It was one game. The guy had it coming and come on, it was funny! Have you ever seen anything funnier than a bunch of shit-faced birds just waddling all over a football field? They couldn’t figure out which way to go and forget about flying. They couldn’t get off the ground if they’d tried.”

“Were they okay?” you asked as your food was set in front of you. 

Eddie glanced over at you, “Who? The players? I’m sure they cried into their pillows that night but they survived missing one stupid football game.”

“No, the birds!”

“Oh…I mean, yeah. They slept it off and they were gone by the next morning. I mean, there were tons of them. Obviously they were fine if they all flew away.” He shrugged, grabbing the ketchup, coating his fries. Your brow furrowed as you watched him smacking the bottom of the bottle, glob after glob plopping out. 

“Umm…aren’t you supposed to dip your fries in ketchup, not smother them?”

“Oh no, sweetheart. The fries are the side to the ketchup. Here.”

He lifted the bottle over your basket and you grabbed onto his wrist, stopping him before he could drown the poor potatoes in sticky red corn syrup. 

“No thank you. I’ll handle my own ketchup.”

“If you say so,” Eddie shrugged, grabbing a ketchup soaked french fry and bringing it to his mouth as you cringed watching him. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“I don’t think she’s missing out on much,” gagged Robin, taking a sip of her shake. “Gross. So, getting excited that the school year is almost over? Only one more week, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s always a little bittersweet,” you admitted, assembling your burger. “I love my summers, especially the lazy mornings. There is nothing better than getting to sit and enjoy my coffee and not having to rush to get ready for the day. But my class is like a little family, you know? I get so attached to the kids. I watch them grow so much and then I have to say goodbye. I always say I won’t but I always cry on the last day.”

Eddie’s lips came together, blowing out obnoxiously, “Damn. I guarantee not one of my teachers ever cried on the last day of school.”

“Probably not because they were so glad to see the back of you finally,” laughed Steve. “You made it your mission to make every teacher’s life hell.”

“Not true.”

“Mrs. O’Donnel, you know she retired after you finally graduated?” asked Steve. “I think you did her in.”

“Or she felt like you finally getting your diploma meant she’d done her job and it was time,” Robin offered. “You weren’t even there during Eddie’s senior year.”

“I was the first time,” argued Steve.

“Yeah, well we all know I only got that diploma because this town was trying to shut me up after they falsely accused me of murder.” Eddie’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Besides, everything was a mess with the earthquake and shit. They had to call school for the year anyway. It was either just call me a graduate or face another year of me haunting those halls. I wouldn’t have done it anyway. I told myself that ‘86 was gonna be my year but shit, man, I couldn’t have been more wrong. If they wouldn’t have handed me that stupid piece of paper, I wouldn’t have done it all again. I mean what has it done for me? I could still be a mechanic without it. All those years in school for what?”

“Because you learned skills that you need in life,” you stated. “Besides the obvious things, such as knowing how to read, which I know matters to you since you love books, and math, which I am betting you use at your job more than you realize, you learned social skills, communication skills. You learned about relationships, both romantic and platonic. You learned how to problem solve and you developed your own identity.”

“Darling, I definitely did not learn about romantic relationships unless you count the random BJ in exchange for some product off in the woods behind the football field,” Eddie laughed. Your face dropped, Eddie instantly realizing his mistake. “I mean it was only once or twice, maybe four times tops. It was…I mean, come on. I was a high school kid. You think I was passing up a BJ from a pretty cheerleader?”

“Jesus Christ, you are such an idiot,” Steve groaned. “School definitely did not teach you communication skills.”

“What? I’m just being honest. Aren’t you supposed to be honest with your girlfriend?”

“Not that honest. Damn. She didn’t even ask,” Robin sighed. “You don’t have to willingly divulge information when it wasn’t even asked of you.”

“You’re one to talk, Buckley. You’re the queen of sharing unnecessary information no one needs to know. And so what? If she likes me, should it matter? We all have a past, right? I mean, maybe not her because she was just with the douchebag but most of us do. Aren’t you supposed to tell the person you’re with everything? Like aren’t they supposed to know all the stuff about you, the good and the bad?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, wondering if he even understood the irony of what he was saying right now. “You should. I mean, I’ve had enough of being lied to in my life. I guess I’d rather know you were a giant manwhore before I came around than have you keeping secrets.”

Eddie smiled smugly at his friends, punctuating what he considered a personal victory with a massive bite of his burger that he followed with a growl and a wiggle of his eyebrows. Steve and Robin rolled their eyes collectively. They were like one entity to the point of it being freaky. It was like they shared a brain or something. 

“Is that Benny?” you asked, pointing to a large man with dark hair that was working the grill.

All three of your lunchmates looked at one another, Robin saying, “Uh, no, it’s not.”

“Oh, I just assumed because it’s called Benny’s Burgers that the guy running it would be named Benny. Is it an old place? Did he pass it down to his kid or something?”

“No,” answered Steve. “Benny, well, he died. The place sat empty for a long time. The basketball team actually used it as their clubhouse or something for a bit until everything happened and Jason was gone. That’s Larry. He was friends with Benny. He bought it and fixed it up, wanting to do right by his friend. It opened back up like six years ago?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” answered Robin. “It took some work to get it looking the way it used to. Jason and his thugs did a real number on it. It was covered in graffiti and trash but Larry really wanted to honor Benny by keeping it as original as possible.”

“That’s awful. Why didn’t anyone take over after he died?”

“Uh, well princess, I don’t think anyone wanted to,” Eddie explained, receiving a glare from Steve that he either ignored or didn’t notice. “See, he was shot in the head. They thought it was suicide at first but Hopper didn’t believe it. He knew Benny wouldn’t do that.”

“So, who shot him?”

“They think it was the lab people.”

“The lab people shot him? Why would they want to hurt some guy who owned a burger joint? Did he know something about the toxic chemicals or something?”

Robin shrugged, “Don’t know, probably never will. I mean, that’s the most logical explanation. They clearly needed him out of the way. Maybe he knew more than he should, saw something they didn’t want him to see, and threatened to blow the whistle on them so they shut him up before he could.”

Your elbows came to rest on the table as you pressed your fingertips against your brow bone, knowing you were not going to get any real answers. You were surprised that Eddie had divulged that much. Steve clearly hadn’t wanted him to. 

“Hey, you alright?” asked Eddie and you could feel the warmth from his body as his arm tightened around you, tucking you into his side. “You got a headache or something?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. 

“Well, well, this explains a hell of a lot.”

You pulled your head back to look up into the face of the last person you wanted to see. Andy Johnson, your least favorite parent, stood next to your table, his eyes searing with hatred as he took in the sight of Eddie’s arms around his son’s teacher. Of course he would hate that. He hated Eddie, thought he’d hurt his friends. He’d made his feelings quite clear that day at the meeting and each conversation since. You continued trying to get him to see what was wrong with the way his son was acting but it was no use. 

“Mr. Johnson, how are you?” you replied politely, shifting away from Eddie to sit up straight. Your job depended on you remaining, if not friendly, at least polite with the man, regardless of what you really wanted to say to him. 

“Me? I’m feeling very…enlightened. Suddenly, it makes so much sense.”

“What is that?”

“I see why you defend that little freak, Charlie, so much,” he sneered, hand coming down on the table in front of you. “You’re really slumming it down in the gutter, aren’t you, teach? I expected someone like you, a teacher, someone who is educated and considered a respectable member of society, to at least have some standards but apparently not. You come to town and decide to shack up with the trailer park trash.”

“Excuse me!?” Eddie exclaimed, shooting up from his chair so fast that it tumbled backward, clattering loudly against the linoleum floor. 

“What’d you do, Munson?” taunted Andy. “Did you do some of your satanic voodoo bullshit to convince the nice teacher to jump in bed with you?”

“Whoa, okay,” interjected Steve, rising up from his own chair, arms held out toward both men. “Let’s just all relax, okay? Andy, why don’t you just get whatever you came for and leave and we’ll go back to our lunch? There’s no need for this shit.”

“Oh, there’s every need. I told you this piece of shit murdered people. He didn’t just murder them. He mutilated them, snapped their limbs, cut out their eyes.” He leaned in close, his face mere inches from yours, breath smelling of stale beer invading your nostrils as you leaned back. “So, what? You into that kind of thing? You got some kink for the sociopathic? Does the thought of Bundy or Manson get you off? Like some knife play? Get all wet at the thought of being in danger, just moments away from being strung up and sliced open in service of Satan?” His fingers gripped the collar of your shirt, pulling you in. “Or are you just that much of a whore that you’d give it to anyone? Maybe I should…”

There was a roar of anger and then Andy’s hands were off of you as Eddie’s own hands slammed into the man’s chest. He fell backward and onto the floor with a thud, shock crossing his features for the briefest of moments before it was replaced with seething hatred and rage, the same look in his eyes that had scared the hell out of you when his son had shown it. 

“Don’t fucking touch her,” hissed Eddie, stepping around and in front of your chair, his arm out, shielding you from the man that looked like he wanted blood, looked like he’d just been waiting for his moment and Eddie had given him the justification he needed.

“I am going to kill you, you freak,” growled Andy, jumping to his feet. “I am going to make you pay for everything you’ve done. This town should have dragged you through the streets and then placed your head on a pike, you worthless sack of shit.”

“Yeah? You gonna show me? Come on, asshole. Let’s go. You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for this. I’ve been dying to kick your ass since the fifth grade.”

Your eyes darted between the men, your chest constricting, stomach knotting, knowing there was not a damn thing you would be able to do if they started going at each other. Steve stepped between them, arms still out as if he were trying to calm a wild animal. And he was, both men’s eyes flashing ferally, fists clenched, teeth gritted with twisted grins as they stared each other down. 

“Come on, guys. We don’t need to do this. Seriously. There are families here,” Steve urged. “Let’s just all walk away.” He pulled out his wallet, tossing a wad of bills on the table. “There. I’ve paid for our food and we’ll just leave. No harm done.”

“You always were a pussy, Harrington,” Andy snorted. “You always weaseled your way out of a fight if you could, until Jonathan Byers came along and you got your ass kicked by a freak. Isn’t he your friend? Makes sense. People thought he’d chopped up his little brother, right? Just another resident psycho with a crazy mother.” He turned back to Eddie, a malicious smile curving up his mouth, a smile that made your blood run cold. “Just like yours, huh Munson? Your mama was a junkie who just couldn’t get enough. Probably why you date whores like this one, here. Your mom would give it to anybody for a fix, isn’t that right?”

You leapt up just as Eddie’s fist connected with Andy’s jaw with a sickening crunch. Customers scattered from their chairs to back against the wall and out of the way as the two men collided, crashing down onto the table. Robin screamed, sliding her chair back just in time before their plates of food toppled off and onto the floor. 

“What the hell is going on!?” Larry yelled, coming around the counter from the kitchen. He threw his dishtowel down, surveying the two men on the floor of his diner. “Hey! Take it outside!” When they didn’t acknowledge him, he grabbed onto the back of Andy’s shirt, yanking him up. Pointing his finger in Eddie’s face, he warned, “If you two assholes don’t take this out of my diner, I’m going to call the cops.”

“He is the cops,” Eddie grunted, pointing at Steve as he wiped blood off of his lower lip.

Larry’s eyes rolled toward Steve, “You gonna do something about this, Office Harrington?”

“I mean…I’m off duty,” he shrugged, clearly torn between doing his job and arresting his friend.

“Jesus Christ,” huffed the owner, dragging Andy by his shirt to the door and tossing him out. “Don’t come back here if you can’t act like a human being with some basic sense!”

Both of Andy’s middle fingers came up before he winked at you, saying, “Don’t worry, you little bitch. I’ll have your job after this. The whole town’s going to know that you’re sleeping with the psycho freak killer. No one will want you teaching their kids now.”

Eddie flew past all of them, knocking into Larry who cursed loudly, as Eddie tackled Andy. His arms locked around his waist, sending both men toppling over into the gravel. Larry shook his head, letting the door shut behind him, obviously just pleased they’d at least taken it out of his establishment. 

“Son of a bitch,” groaned Steve and all three of you ran for the door, bursting out into the afternoon sunshine. 

A tangle of wild dark waves and tawny curls, limbs flailing in an attempt to injure, rolled across the lot. Andy’s fist came back, connecting with Eddie’s eye. The metalhead released a roar of pain, his hands shoving until he got loose. He rose to his feet slowly, rolling his neck, watching Andy like a predator ready to strike as he stood. 

“Come on,” he challenged, both hands out in front of him, fingers wiggling in invitation. 

“Eddie! Don’t!” you pleaded, grabbing onto the back of his shirt but he pushed you off of him. 

“Stay out of it,” he stated, his hand flattened toward you. “It’s past time this dickhead got put in his place. I should have done this years ago.”

“Please, you couldn’t have done this years ago,” Andy snorted, the back of his hand coming above his lip, smearing blood from his nose across his cheek. 

“Only because you were too much of a pussy to challenge me alone. You always had to have your friends hold me down. You’re nothing without Jason. You were just his little lap dog. He’d say jump and you’d say how high. Now what are you? You’re a piece of shit wife beater who is raising a piece of shit son just like you.” Andy’s eyes flashed angrily and Eddie smiled. “Yeah, that’s right. Everybody knows. We all know how you have to pick on people smaller than you to feel good. Well, let’s see how you do when you take on someone your own size.”

“Whoa. Hey!” yelled Steve but it didn’t matter because neither man was listening. 

Andy lunged for Eddie who stepped quickly to the side, avoiding him. He laughed, a sound of pure vindication that exploded from within him as he stepped into the large man, swinging his fist right into his kidney. Andy exhaled a loud breath, dropping to his knees and Eddie took advantage, his fist connecting with the side of his face. 

You tried to step in but Steve grabbed you around the waist, pulling you back and behind him, “Don’t, okay? Eddie will never forgive himself if you get hurt.”

“You asshole!” Eddie roared, his fist slamming into Andy’s face. “Thinking you can torture someone for years!” Again, forcefully, this time his mouth and you watched as a tooth flew. “You son of a bitches ruined my goddamn life!”

“Eddie!” Steve screamed, running up behind his friend, grabbing his arms and pinning them behind his back, no small feat as Eddie shook with years of pent up anger, fighting back. “Eddie! Stop or you’re going to kill him!”

“So? He would have killed me if given the chance. That’s exactly what they came to the boathouse to do,” he rasped, chest heaving, eyes crazed and you had no doubt he would have continued hitting him until he stopped breathing if Steve hadn’t stepped in. 

Andy swayed for a moment, his eyes rolling back in his head, and then he fell backward onto the gravel, limbs splayed out like a starfish. Eddie’s breathing slowed, eyes softening, arms relaxing as he began to come back to himself, realizing what he’d done, what he’d been about to do. 

He turned his head toward you, eye already mottling in an array of purple and blue, blood dripping down his chin. You swallowed, taking a step back, terrified, not of him but of what you'd just seen. The rage he held inside, the pain and the anger that had been infecting him, running through his veins like acid, corroding and eating away at everything until there would be nothing left. 

“Eddie, I have to call this in, man. I can’t…we can’t just leave him here like this,” Steve told him, his voice breaking with regret, letting you know it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Do what you gotta do, man. Steve, just take her home for me. You know where to find me if you need to arrest me,” he said softly, those chestnut eyes flickering with pain for just a moment before he looked away, pulled free from his friend’s hold, and began to make his way toward his van, leaving you standing there, frozen in shock.

Chapter 21

Taglist

@tlclick73@bebe07011@eddiesguitarskills@witchwolflea@nailbatanddungeon@emilyslutface@fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes@corrodedcoffincumslut@mmunson86@josephquinnsfreckles@katethetank

#eddie munson #eddie the banished #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #eddie munson smut #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson lives #max mayfield #hawkins #ongoing #fluff #angst #smut and fluff #fluff and angst #enemies to friends to lovers #post divorce #falling in love #second chances #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things 4 #jonathan byers

[demolition-lesbians]

Rolling Stone #1119 December 9, 2010 - The Playlist Issue

(click for better quality) Here's the playlist if you want to take a listen! Transcript:

Gerard Way: Glam Rock

My Chemical Romance's frontman grew up a metalhead, but when he heard Iron Maiden's lead singer, Bruce Dickinson, cover Mott the Hoople's "All the Young Dudes," he discovered a whole other world, "I knew I had to find out more," Way says, "To some people, glam is just about makeup. To me, it's a very magical thing almost like witchcraft."

1: "Ziggy Stardust" David Bowie, 1972

This song defines glam. It was also the first thing in rock that really challenged people's notions of sexual orientation. Bowie actually sings about a man's ass! 2: "Children of the Revolution" T. Rex, 1972

You always knew Bowie would make it out alive and turn into another character; with Marc Bolan you didn't know that. He came across as very vulnerable. 3: "All the Young Dudes" Mott the Hoople, 1972

This is kind of a cheat because David Bowie wrote it for them, but I always preferred the Mott the Hoople version. By this point, Bowie was talking about the actual glam movement, which is why it's about kids stealing makeup and breaking into unlocked cars. Glam became about the kid in the room, the poster on the wall, putting on a women's short fur coat and eyeliner, with no shirt on, just listening to this music. 4: "Ballroom Blitz" Sweet, 1973

They completely break the fourth wall when the song opens up and they're calling each other by name. We emulated that on our song "Vampire Money." It literally starts out just like "Ballroom Blitz" does. 5: "Cum On Feel the Noize" Slade, 1973

Obviously, everybody knows this for the Quiet Riot version, but when you hear the original you realize just how bold it is. The soundscape they created is probably one of the best out of all the glam-rock bands. 6: "Love Is the Drug" Roxy Music, 1975

Roxy Music took the glam thing and then modified it. Bryan Ferry looks nothing like a glam artist, and that's what I love about him. He's wearing this great suit and he's got short hair and he's so romantic. Maybe some people wouldn't consider Roxy Music a glam band, but I do, for a lot of reasons. A major one is that they used to have Brian Eno behind the keyboard wearing feathers on his shoulders and eye shadow.

7: "Needles in the Camel's Eye" Brian Eno, 1974

Speaking of Eno, this is the first track on his first solo album. It's the glammiest track on the record. As soon as he finishes that song, he's almost over it, and he's moved on to something else. Besides Bowie, Eno is still the most important artist to me of the glam scene. When you heard his first album, you knew it was gonna be his last glam record. He just needed to do it once and he was done. 8: "Clones (We're All)" Alice Cooper, 1980

With "Clones," Alice Cooper was moving into the glam of the future, like this kind of Blade Runner replicant version of glam. Alice Cooper doesn't get enough credit for being a glam artist. A lot of people just say, "Oh, he's shock rock," but I think he's way more Rocky Horror than he is shock rock. 9: "48 Crash" Suzi Quatro, 1973

She's the most unsung glam rocker. She's also the prototype for the Runaways. "48 Crash" is one of her more aggressive songs. She looks amazing on the cover, wearing this black cat suit. Everything about the song is magic. 10: "Personality Crisis" New York Dolls, 1973

They were a lot more punk, but I will always consider the New York Dolls glam by the nature of how they looked and their attitude. They took glam to America and really challenged the sexuality of it. They also had Johnny Thunders, who's basically like the American Mick Ronson.

#can not describe the feeling of finding what issue this belonged to but man was it good #gerard way #glam rock #rolling stone magazine

[nerdyydragon]

Happy Magnus Horrors Thursday everybody I have a

Thought ✨

What if. And hear me out. Rather than feeding on what you fear, this system functions on what you want and then corrupting it?

Case 1 was about losing a loved one and being horrified by what you found when you indulged in the idea of having them back

Case 2 (Red Canary) was about wanting to explore and find something new, potentially to see, and ended with them being physically disfigured in a way that we’re all theorizing about eyes

Case 3 was body dysmorphia becoming body horror, wanting to be perfect and becoming unrecognizable

Case 4 was a doctor who had potential regrets about working long hours and wanted their loved one back, and has some allusions to the Daphne/Apollo myth which is super packed with longing

On top of the alchemical symbols which are, as a practice, about changing one thing into another. Like they’re definitely creepy but not in the same way as the original series was, so I don’t think they function the same way—only that the clues we’re given about the OIAR classifications wants us to think it’s the same (dolls, watching or dolls, human skin). Because the classification and the cases are different, on top of the way they’ve assigned voices and the subject matter of the statements. I don’t really want to link it to MAG200 as Alex said you can listen to TMAGP without knowing anything about the first series, but the feelings in the final episode could have played a part in which universe was “next” or that they might have been ripped to, if they were at all.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #tmagp theory #tmagp speculation #I’m tossing out ideas based on the first three episodes

[markantonys]

thoughts on the people of falme cheering over learning that the dragon has been reborn

1) their city was just getting blown up and now it's not. they're happy about this.

2) their city had been occupied by the seanchan for weeks (months?) and now it's not. they're happy about this.

3) the average layperson may not even recognize the dragon symbol; maybe they're just thinking someone's putting on a nice fireworks show to celebrate the attack being over.

4) but assuming they do recognize it, this is not unlike the immediate reaction to rand declaring himself in the stone in TDR. all the onlookers kneel before him and take up chanting "the dragon has been reborn!" it's not a celebratory moment, exactly, but it's far from a fearful one. it's only in the little coda afterwards that mat tells us the news is being met with both awe and fright as it's being spread; in the immediate moment, "awe" is definitely the main emotion.

5) there is book precedent for rand being welcomed into a city for whom he did a good deed, rather than being met with hatred or fear (illian). maybe the people of falme, in this immediate post-battle moment, care less about the vague future notion of the last battle and more about the fact that whoever's up on that tower did them a solid by helping get rid of the seanchan and the whitecloaks.

6) elayne noted that the people of falme act like they've been seanchan all their lives. perhaps their cheering for the dragon reborn who's just conquered their conquerors is meant to show a Series Theme about how the average layperson doesn't care about who's in charge or about what's going on in the world at large as long as their own individual life isn't affected too badly.

7) in the books, the idea that the general populace is afraid of rand/the dragon reborn really doesn't emerge strongly until TSR, after he's been publicly out as the dragon for more than 5 seconds. no reason to assume the show will never get to this idea just because it hasn't yet. this series has 1 million Themes and not all of them can fit in the first 2 seasons of the show. since everybody was going to be split up for most of this season, they chose "the vulnerability of isolation vs. the strength of togtherness" as the Focal Theme for the season and the big moment of togetherness in the final scene is the conclusion of this Theme. (and this was all necessitated in part by barney's departure; rafe said that the changes to mat's story are what made them decide to double down on the isolation theme for season 2.)

8) simple storytelling and Making Emotionally Satisfying Television reasons. season 2 was a very heavy season of isolation, despair, and loss (and i saw more than one mid-season critic review & show-only comment begging for some light because things had been so painful for so long). thus, they wanted to end the season on a note of unity, hope, and triumph, to give the audience some much-needed positive catharsis. the final scene being everybody screaming in horror and recoiling in terror from rand would've been, you know, kind of a downer.

9) even if the people are celebrating, rand himself is CLEARLY not happy. rest assured that the show is aware of the "it sucks to be the chosen one" Theme and is not going to make being the dragon reborn any less of a burden for rand than it is in the books (just in case the whole thing where he spent the entire season hating himself and having nightmares about killing everyone he loves didn't already give you that impression).

plus, just like in TGH&TDR, this season rand's inner struggle was only about being a male channeler because he had no idea his dragon reborn duties weren't over until the last few episodes. only now that he has officially taken up the mantle of the dragon reborn will it be time for us to see how much being the chosen one weighs on him. so, just the same timing as it was in the books. (and frankly, i think season 1's emphasis on rand having concrete plans for a future in emond's field which he now has to abandon already sold this idea more than the first 2 or 3 books alone did; as a show-only for s1 i was so upset about rand not getting to be a stay-at-home cottagecore dad, my show-only mom was so upset about it, and i've seen plenty of other show-onlys being upset about it too.)

#you can feel free to come back and say 'i told you so' if a few more seasons pass and the show still hasn't addressed these Themes #that have been called out as missing so far in the first 2 seasons #but for me personally i just think it's too early in the show's run to worry about them being missing just yet #there is still time for them to be given more attention (and i don't think they've been given NO attention so far anyway) #wot #wot show spoilers #wot book spoilers

[freak-accident419]

Masterlist

(divider by @cafekitsune) All of my JHutch fics in one place :) all is gender neutral reader! <3

⭐️ - my personal favorites

Josh Futturman:

File Room Confessions | WC: 1.5k | Summary: You and Josh snoop into the employee records room to find more information about his biotic co-workers. However, one conversation leads to another.

⭐️ Good Tidings | WC: 2.9k | Summary: You and Josh barely have any time to yourselves due time traveling nonstop, trying to save the fate of humanity. However, being at the Futturman’s Christmas dinner party granted you two a fair amount of time. (smut, 18+ content, MDNI)

His Silver Lining | WC: 2.7k | Summary: Josh had been adjusting fairly well to the year 2000 after tragically getting stuck in it. Though for quite a while, he had developed a crush on you ever since he first met you during his new job at Blockbuster. He finally gets the courage to ask you out—which was inviting you over at his place to watch a horror movie.

⭐️ Make Me (Joosh/J-Futz x Reader) | WC: 3.7k | Summary: You come by Joosh’s house a year since you’ve broken up with him, after realizing you left your box of important belongings there. Seeing each other again after a long time sparked not only bitterness and resumed arguments, but also unresolved tension. (smut, 18+ content, MDNI)

⭐️ “Hachi Machi!” | WC: 2.2k | Summary: After coming back to 2017 from ‘69, Josh realizes that his and Tiger and Wolf’s interference made some ripples in his timeline, such as the gun hanging in his parent’s house, the Blapple, Ray disappearing, and ultimately Dr. Kronish working alongside Stu Camilo. He’s relieved to know that you are still his partner in this timeline, but when one thing leads to another, he discovers one small change about you. (smut, 18+ content, MDNI)

The Little Things | WC: 1.8k | Summary: Upset that Josh has been overly stressed and traumatized recently, you decide to surprise him with a short getaway, a temporary escape—you were going to take him to see a dinosaur.

Billy (Burn 2019):

⭐️ Good Lucking Boy - Part 1 | WC: 3.4k | Part 2 | WC: 3.0k | Part 3 | WC: 3.1k | Summary: You go to a gas station and notice something peculiar. Immediately after, you wake up and acknowledge your current situation: in a chair, tied up to a stranger with your backs to each other, with restraints promising no way out. While you two figure out a plan to escape, you bond in the process.

Strange Honey | WC: 2.4k | Summary: One night at a bar, you meet a very mysterious man with a burn on the side of his face. As the tense and strained person you see him as, you decide to offer him some ease, giving the wannabe cowboy one hell of a ride. (smut, 18+ content, MDNI)

⭐️ depollute me, gentle angel | WC: 2.7k | Summary: It’s been days ever since the incident at Paradise Pumps. Days ever since Melinda. Days ever since Billy ran into your arms immediately after coming back home. They say time heals all wounds. But they’re never really truly gone. (TW: implications of past SA)

Mike Schmidt:

Baby Fever | WC: 2.0k | Summary: You never liked babies. You always believed they were burdensome and irritating. However, after having a baby lay peacefully in your arms, you made the decision—you wanted to raise one with your husband, Mike.

⭐️ Isn’t it Ironic? | WC: 2.8k | Summary: You attend an old friend’s wedding that you were surprisingly invited to. One downside—it was raining when everybody least expected it. Lucky that the whole ceremony and party were indoors, the event prospered, and you meet someone during the reception.

Derek Danforth:

High On You (GN!AFAB!Reader) | WC: 1.2k | Summary: You read over the statistics and analytics for Derek’s company, as he requested. Except, while you do this, you’re on his bed, lower half of your body exposed as he does lines of cocaine on your thigh—then he eats you out. (smut, 18+ content, MDNI)

⭐️ Ya Ne Prava | WC: 4.4k | Summary: Because everyone seemed to fail him, Derek Danforth decided to call you up to kill Mr. Clay. You are an assassin that had an intimate, yet complicated relationship with Derek in the past, sharing a bittersweet history together. You realize that you’re going against a Beekeeper, and felt obligated to spend one last night with your old lover, as this mission doesn’t guarantee your survival. But you’d do anything for him—even if it meant dying for him. (smut, 18+ content, MDNI)

⭐️ Soft Spot | WC: 1.7k | Summary: After a long, frustrating day of work, Derek comes back home to you for comfort. Being the tough, asshole-ish, and reckless man he was on the outside, he easily melts into you with sweetness and submission. After all, he had such a soft spot for you

You Were Everything (GN!AFAB!Reader) | WC: 2.3k | Summary: It’s been a few years since the divorce. When you accidentally got pregnant by Derek, he left immediately out of fear, leaving you pregnant all alone. Compromises and communication had become established and all he could do now was call your daughter. But one day, just like some others, he asks to see her in person again.

You Can’t Spell ‘FWB’ without ‘Friend’ | WC: 2.9k | Summary: Ever since the night before, you and Derek had become best friends with benefits. Bored at a fancy rich person party, you two decide to hook up again. However, when you’re inexplicably taken out of the mood, you two decide to do something else for the night: hang out like the best friends you were. (18+ content, MDNI)

⭐️ That’s A Wrap | WC: 3.5k | Summary: You and Derek are pornstars. Filming your next video, things start to go wrong and you two just end up messing around and having a laugh together. However, as your laughs diminishes, things begin to become increasingly intimate between the two of you. (smut, 18+ content, MDNI)

Clapton Davis:

The Unlikely Postulate of Clapton’s Love Life | Headcanons

Sean Anderson:

Not yet :(

Franklin Fox:

Not yet :(

#josh futturman #future man #josh futturman x reader #future man x reader #future man 2017 #billy burn x gn!reader #billy burn #billy burn x reader #burn 2019 #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #clapton davis x reader

[mob-choir]

i’m having so many emotions about teru

that was such a fast-paced, high-stakes situation, and he was thrown so many curveballs he barely had any time to cope with, and he still managed to adjust at impressive speed and never lost his faith in mob.

specifically: that moment right before ???% grabs him by the throat, when he’s kneeling on the ground trying to catch his breath. in that split moment, that’s when the realisation dawns, that this version of mob has no qualms in hurting him even with his bare hands. mob being non-violent to the point of letting himself get choked to unconsciousness was literally how they met, it’s one of the foundations at his core, and teru was well aware of it. having that knowledge suddenly be proven wrong, and all that means for his own safety, must have been a lot to take in. i can’t quite tell if it’s fear that we see on his face for a second, but if it is, that really adds to the element of horror - that sudden realisation that you’re in so much more danger than you thought and your initial plan is not going to be enough.

and then of course: when ???% lets loose his power despite so many people still being around and unable to evacuate. the horror on teru’s face, man. i don’t think it’d really clicked for him what mob being in this state actually meant until then. sure, him attacking teru was unlike him, but teru’s still an esper. he’s in great danger but he can somewhat defend himself. but civilians are different, and you can really tell teru did NOT think mob would put them in danger like that. he’s completely shell-shocked. i think that was another huge moment where he had to very quickly reassess the situation and what to do about it, all while coping with the emotional side of it all, since this is one of his closest friends and someone he really admires. he has to very quickly reckon with the fact that despite the pedestal he put him on, mob is just as human as he is and is capable of making mistakes just like everybody else, mistakes that don't detract from his worth.

which brings me to the point of it all. that DESPITE ALL THAT, teru was still able to 1) understand that mob desperately wants someone to stop him and would never want to harm anyone like this (bc he remembered that mob cried after realising what he’d done to his school....... where he’d only really harmed one person, who had done much worse to him..... if he cried after that, how will he feel when he finds out what he’s causing now?), 2) save all the people caught up in the devastation and get them all out of harm’s way, while being in a lot of pain (his EYES were BLEEDING), and 3) never once lose faith in mob. he saw him go on a (unintentional and unwilling, but teru doesn’t know that) rampage, doing things he would never in a million years think mob would ever do, and still took all of that in in record time considering the situation, and came out on the other side still whole-heartedly believing in shigeo and his goodness, and almost dying trying to stop him. because he knew that being the reason hundreds of innocent people got injured (or worse) would completely and utterly break mob.

and while, knowing teru, he might think he failed since he couldn’t achieve his goal (stopping mob’s rampage), what he succeeded in doing was ultimately just as important. he saved all the people he could, and gave his best for the one person he couldn’t.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #mp100 spoilers #hanazawa teruki #kageyama shigeo #this got really long but i have so many thoughts on this #there are some things i only brushed upon but that still drive me insane. but those will be for some other post maybe #the gist of this is that i think what teru was able to do here is an incredible feat that not many people could have done #both from a concrete point of view in terms of the people he saved and attempts he made at stopping mob #but also from a purely emotional perspective in terms of coping with all the life-altering curveballs being thrown at him #while being engaged in life-threatening battle #someone please get this kid to a hospital and then to a warm meal and a comfy bed or i'll do it myself #anyway thank you to bones for doing a great job with this final arc so far. excited for the next two eps #even having read the manga i'm NOT ready #post.txt

[autisticlalna]

Twitch SMP Lore Transcript Masterpost!

welcome to the cozy town of Aquarium Gravel! we've got time loops, alternate reality selves, eldritch horrors, places that Should Not Be, possession, cool item symbolism, things pretending to human that very much are not, and a guy that hallucinates scarecrows talking to him.

as someone with a burning drive to analyze as much lore as i can get my hands on, as well as someone who has trouble tracking down specific clips in hours-long VODs to back up my analyses, i decided to start transcribing VikingPilot and Rubyco's lore!

this is a bit of a massive undertaking, and there are likely going to be mistakes due to length. shoutouts to Rubyco and ghostsgone for the help on this project!

right now this only covers Viking and Ruby's plotline - if other people want to transcribe the lore streams from the other Aquarium Gravel members i 100% encourage it because everybody's got a really cool story to tell! however, i have given myself one heck of a workload, so i don't think it's in the cards for me. i would love to see it though

this post will be updated as more transcripts are finished! in the meantime, here's what we have so far!

TRANSCRIPTS:

Jan 29 - It's just so you. - A hypothetical future. Feb 8 - It's gonna be great. - Ruby confronts Viking about his weird behavior after he gets an IOU out of Miyaki. Feb 15 - Sleepwalk - Viking and Ruby investigate the strange signs Ruby leaves while sleepwalking. Feb 20 - Signposting - Ruby meets another Viking. Feb 21 - You see me. - Sapphire leaves a message. Feb 28 - Biking Pilog - An error in the timeline. Feb 28 - You belong to me. - Jay has an encounter. Feb 29 - What are you running from? - An introduction to Fiv, and a conversation with Sapphire. Mar 4 - Time and Space / The Clocktower - Viking and Ruby find a clocktower and get more questions than answers. [WIP, 1/2 done] ▷ [ Navigator & Sapphire's conversation ] Mar 10 - Snails. - Aquarium Gravel has a snail infestation. Mar 19 - Homesick - Fiv finds common ground with Ruby... or a Ruby, anyway. Mar 21 - Fiv wants out of the deal and things start coming together. [WIP] Mar 27 - Vintage and Ruby go on a date. [WIP]

#leo.txt #Twitch SMP #vikingpilot #rubyco #meta analysis stuff #BEHOLD. WHAT IVE BEEN WORKING MY ASS OFF ON. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #tsmp #bell noises! #clock noises! #tsmp lore transcripts

[kadextra]

The rescue today & similar posts I was seeing lately have got me thinking about this idea again, so naturally I’m going to ramble out a whole post about it too:

People who say “this is my favorite character!” *proceeds to put them through horrors* this is kinda how I feel about q!Bad atm. He’s my favorite little guy but I think it would be pretty neat if something Crazy happened to him in the story at some point in the future. Like get him taken away by the Federation or the Codes, idk

Simply because 1. He's already made an enemy of both entities 2. He might finally know sleep 3. Everyone knows this man can roleplay his heart out, it’d give us a lot of banger content and 4. Please consider the effect this would have on everyone in the island- bc it’s badboyhalo!!!

One of the strongest, most prepared players- him and his egg rarely ever fall, and if they do it's met with immediate emergency response. He knows everybody well, and is someone that's always active on the server doing things, talking to people. The totems in your kids’ hands & the armor on their backs? whispered conversations to update you on the latest gossip and theories? Traces of Bad’s caring presence can be felt everywhere. he is a guy that every. single. person. on this island feels safe to fully rely on, and who they all unanimously love. If something happened to him... do you understand the pure chaos that would follow?

Dapper would be alone. and he will immediately go on a warpath to save their dad

All of the Brazilians and French would be in a panic mobilizing the rescue team. that’s their badboy/bébou!!

Ordo Theoritas loses an important core member

Foolish loses his best worstie

The island's first-rate babysitter and first responder is gone, eggs are now in more danger than ever

ough. it's scary that all a powerful entity would need to do if they really wanted to send the island into utter disaster would be to take bbh away.

His friends would fight tooth and nail to get him back at all costs in a “you don’t know what you had until you lose it” type way. to see the person who always cares for others, become the one overwhelmingly cared for… i’d want to see it happen ngl

#qsmp #badboyhalo #qsmp theory #not any time soon of course I need a Break from angsty lore #but it would be a banger idea for some later arc I think