#the use of vine booms in horror

[jxnxai]

MY OTP!! (guy x eldritch horror who stole his eyes)

#guess who started listening to malevolent #malevolent #malevolent podcast #arthur lester #john doe #TMA FANS LISTEN TO THIS SHOW PLEASE #ITS SO GOOD #ITS INSANE #the use of vine booms in horror #also top tier music #my art

[fawn-wings]

.

#those stupid motherfuckers that are like “’oh i’m gonna ruin dream’s day bubububu’ i hope you experience tragedies. #in RAPID fucking succession. #you don’t care about victims. you don’t. because you’re willing to sacrifice #an entire fucking room full of people #who could have that trauma #just so you can stand on your little fucking pedestals #i hope someone in that crowd walks up and punches you in the fucking face #how fuckin dare you pretend this is about the victims at all #this is all for your stupid fucking ego #i’m so fucking angry dude. #i hope you fucking experience the horrors #cuz you know what? i WAS raped. i WAS taken advantage of by an adult online. #and if someone had gone up to her and made it a huge fucking scene and used my fucking trauma to make themself some sort of fuckin #social influencer fuckin viral gotcha vine boom moment #i would’ve fucking lost my mind and mauled you with my FUCKING teeth #and i hope someone does #so have fun directly putting money in his pocket and then getting your shit rocked. i hate you.

[amywritesthings]

boston holiday. / a joel holiday ficlet

pairing: joel miller x f!reader ( the last of us ) word count: 1.5k summary: You're decorating for the holidays in your Boston Quarantine Zone apartment. A begrudging Joel Miller gets involved. tags: domestic fluff, pre-tlou, explicit language, holiday decorating in the apocalypse, set 6 months after 'seeing you / seeing me' credit: dividers by @saradika

welcome to the third day of the twelve days of amymas 2023 !!!

“The hell’re you doing, girl?”

Only two people have the key to your place.

One of them is Tess Servopoulos.

Giving Tess a spare key was necessary — or so she's claimed, since according to her, she can't trust you to stay out of trouble for longer than twenty minutes.

(She isn't wrong.)

However, you’d love to argue that somehow you have become the saint in this duo.

Ever since that week at Miller's place, every deal has gone smoother than running water. For the last couple of months, you've been clean. Unseen. Invisible.

Tess, on the other hand, has always been a bad influence.

The older woman opens her mouth, starts a Boston-wide battle, and boom — sleepover for two at your place.

(After saving your ass, you'll hide her away from wandering eyes without question. Curfew punishments be damned.)

The other person that has the key to your place, well —

The other is the salt-and-pepper man watching you in mild horror as you teeter on the arm of your dilapidated couch.

(You just haven't seen him yet.)

Joel Miller has been known for his subtlety, his silence, but not around you.

Not when he holds the key to your place; a recent development.

He tends to simply show up when he wants.

You don't mind that — usually.

But his bark scares the shit out of you in the middle of stretching high, your bare toes barely touching the arm of your couch.

The hell're you doing, girl?

Hoping to tack this starting string of garland to the ceiling suddenly becomes you fighting for your life.

"Ah—!"

The surprise intrusion causes you to falter, ankle losing its balance.

You wobble once, violently twice, before falling backwards.

Joel wastes no time — he slams the front door shut, not bothering to lock it behind him, and rushes to the couch.

Like some fucked up apocalyptic fairy tale, he catches you well before you hit the ground.

Joel Miller, the reluctant hero.

For a moment you stay suspended here: feet barely touching the ground, the older man’s arms wrapped around your torso.

Joel's weather-worn face twists in a concerned scowl.

All you can do is cheekily smile.

“Hey, Miller.”

“Don’t fucking hey me,” he snaps. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“To be fair, I thought I could reach it.” He stares, so you supply: "The ceiling. I thought I could reach the ceiling."

“You’ve got the tallest goddamn ceilings in the Boston Q-Z,” Joel argues in return, setting you down to properly stand. You hold onto the sleeves of his flannel shirt until you get your footing. “Ain’t no way in hell you were reaching anything.”

He lets go of you to stare at the ceiling like he's ready to pick a fight with it, before dropping his chin.

The man stops moving when he picks up the fallen string of fake green vines strewn across your scratched hardwood floor.

The question is silent: what the hell is this?

You cross your arms over your chest, wishing you had a better excuse.

A funny one that doesn't make you look so childish, especially in front of Joel Miller.

Still, you're a bad liar around him, so you choose to stare at the garland instead of him when you confess.

“I was trying to get the holiday spirit going.”

When you blink up to Joel, your suspicions of confusion are correct: he stares back like you’ve sprouted a second head and become a clicker in the flesh.

A beat passes.

Then another.

“The what now?”

You playfully roll your eyes and walk away towards your radio. Hovering over it, your fingertips reach to toy with the dials until white static takes over the apartment silence.

That radio is the only reliable device in your endless collection of junk, though it's had to go through some repairs this year.

Thanks to Joel it still works, though he won't let you thank him.

(Not verbally, anyway. There are always loopholes in the middle of the night.)

“Every year I do this,” you explain, turning each dial with care until the local radio station comes over the airwaves.

"You... decorate."

Clearly he's unimpressed.

"Yeah," you reply. "Between leaving the Q-Z and scavenging the nearby neighborhoods, I find junk all the time. Snowman trinkets and elf knick-knacks and other stupid shit no one ever touches because it's all useless. I keep all of them in a box until the holidays. My collection's actually grown exponentially over the years.”

Two boxes full, actually.

Forgotten treasures of other families, now kept sacred on your mantle.

“Sounds like a waste of time,” Joel scoffs.

“It is,” you agree once you find the right channel before standing at full height with a tiny smile, "but that time makes me happy, so I’m happy to waste it. What else am I supposed to do between jobs?”

He considers those words, if just for a moment.

Joel scrunches his nose and eyes in a way that says he's debating on being mean.

You don't expect him to get it.

He's been through shit, but so has everyone in this quarantine zone.

(So have you.)

The Eagles croon in the background — not exactly holiday cheer, but any vinyl or CDs of the greats like Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra singing holiday songs are probably nonexistent from the decay of time.

Besides, you can’t imagine many others are trying to keep the holidays afloat in the quarantine zone. Some families, sure, but not many.

Too much heartbreak. Too much loss.

But you've had enough sadness, so you try to bring a little light to your humble abode.

"Don't worry about it, Joel," you add after an uncomfortable amount of silence passes. "I know it's stupid. There's a fresh bottle of stored whiskey in the—"

All words die on your tongue when some kind of winter miracle happens:

Rather than tossing the garland string to the side, Joel turns on the heel of his boot and away from you.

"Joel?"

He carefully slips off his shoes, revealing worn-white socks, and steps on your couch cushion.

With care, he reaches for the ceiling.

A strip of his bare lower back reveals itself in his stretch.

“What are you... doing?” you inquire, stepping around your couch to face him.

He doesn't look down, determined to stare at the white canvas of your ceiling.

Searching.

Your line of sight is in direct contact with the dark happy trail poking from his shirt, causing your face to burn.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he retorts.

“You said it was a waste of time.”

“You dying because you wanna try and stick some stupid tree shit up on your ceiling is more of a waste of time. You got tape or something?”

���Seriously?”

He peers down at you. 

“Do I look like I’m kidding?" he retorts. "Get the damn tape.”

You have to try not to smile too wide when you step away, rummaging through your box of supplies.

Truthfully nothing in this box is worth keeping — none of it will save your life in the apocalypse — but your mental sanity thanks you for it every year.

After finding a roll that’s still sticky, you return to the couch and hold it up for him.

Joel grunts in gratitude, focusing his efforts solely on the line of green above him.

He manages to press the start of the decoration in place, holding the bottom of it to you.

“You want big loops or little?”

“What’ll stick better, Miller?”

He gives you a warning look. “Joel.”

A smile spreads like wildfire against your lips.

“...what’ll stick better, Joel?”

That seems to satisfy him.

“Hell if I know,” he grumbles, “just tell me what you prefer and I’ll do it.”

Something stirs in your lower belly as he speaks.

Joel didn’t have to do this.

He didn’t have to do any of it.

You were perfectly fine with keeping your need for holiday cheer to yourself, but he’s stepped in without so much as a fuss.

He’s had a hard life. Tess has alluded to the fact that he was once a father before.

You can only imagine how much he hates this, but he’s still trying.

For you.

It’s not a favor you will easily forget.

Your fading candles burn out in the background as the two of you go through every part of your assorted holiday decorations, popping open a bottle of smuggled whiskey to keep yourselves dehydrated. 

You direct. Joel places.

After some time you both get too tipsy to put the finishing touches.

(Too busy slow dancing in the middle of your living room to the ballads of Patsy Cline.)

Making jokes.

Enjoying warmth.

Choosing life.

It’s the first night Joel Miller ever sleeps at your place.

You both stay in bed long after the sun rises.

.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fluff #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #holiday fanfic #holiday one shot #holiday fluff #twelve days of amymas #amywritesthings #fic: boston holiday

[mdhwrites]

My Biggest Problem With TOH Fight Scenes

So first I just want to say that for as much as people laud TOH's animations... Its fights aren't good. I'm not saying they're poorly animated but as fights, they're not interesting. There's rarely much in the way of back and forth, the choreography is just okay, it usually is really floaty and slow, in part due to how TOH does its bigger budget animation. Some of the ones counted as fight scenes really shouldn't as Grom would be the best fight scene of the series... But it's not. It's really just a small dance routine without the opponent involved and then a super move and that's not a fight. It's much closer to a curbstomp if anything, especially with how powerless the leads are before then.

But all of those explain why TOH's fights are kind of lackluster and how that fuels a general feeling that TOH just isn't a very good adventure series which is kind of rough for an adventure/comedy series. No, my biggest issue, and part of why Covention is easily the best fight in the series to me (Eclipse Lake is second and the rest are... There at best) is a lack of personality to these fights. A lack of a personal touch that should make them more memorable. Feel like who is fighting matters beyond skill set, especially in a show with magic.

But what do I mean by personality? After all, in a fight your goal is to beat the opponent. Where is the room for personality? If you're asking that then WOW where have you been to have missed the Superhero boom of the last decade? Then again, plenty of those movies fuck this up too. It's effectively how you make sure Spider-Man punching someone feels different from Captain America punching someone. Through body language, how they treat the fight, the creative ways they get the opening to land their blow, etc. like that. More straightforward thinking people will use more brute force while smarter characters will use their environment to their advantage and silly characters may use jokes and the like both for amusement and distraction. How brutal are they in taking down their opponent, do they hold back, etc. etc.

In TOH though... Everyone just brute forces everything with maximum power all the time. My go to example of this is how smart, studious Amity's go to weapon in S2, all of S2, was an abomination fist. Despite having the second most versatile and expressive type of magic in the show, Amity decides to always go for just punching a bitch or literally throwing a fist (or she's not actually really a part of the fight). Why? What part of her character, besides the asinine element of her once being a Grudgby Captain, would make you expect her to be some sort of brawler? To want to get up close and personal with her very own fists? She should be summoning minions, setting traps, ensnaring and debilitating her opponents... And instead she keeps punching people or using the gauntlet as a projectile which isn't even used as a joke for "I cast Fist" which would at least lightly play into her being a nerd even if that's much more a line that should come from Luz.

But even worse is Gus actually. He's not a part of a lot of fights but when he is, how does he use illusions? Literally the most expressive magic there is in almost any setting? The coven that does magic with pizzazz as he puts it? With basic ass clones that aren't even in silly poses or costumes, darkness and mind jacking. The one time he actually makes an illusion to use as an illusion in a fight is very tenuously Looking Glass Ruins. Even then, it's not as a distraction or the like or even coded to who Gus is as a character for the most part. It's more of a trap/set piece than any sort of fight and the level of horror it goes to feels honestly out of character for the most light hearted comedy character in the show. Otherwise though... Where's the pizzazz?

It makes most of the fights in TOH just blend together. It makes the magic feel like everyone is just using energy blasts and vines. I mean even Willow always goes for the most aggressive, brutal approach she can to put down a threat with as many vines as possible. Why? Why does she behave, even when calm, much closer to how you might expect Hunter to since he's actually trained to kill and fight?

None of this is helped either by the fact that I think the first monster Belos fight is really the only one that actually has talking during the fight. Every other fight, the characters entirely shut up until there's a pause in the action. That may be more realistic but it still implies that none of these characters are afraid or panicking or coordinating or anything like that. Even during the ones I can genuinely recall, it's always the villain who speaks. The heroes are too busy just trying to destroy the threat to say anything. It makes how short the fights are a weird sort of blessing because hey! Now the actual story and characterization can continue instead of having a pointless, fluff piece of a fight going on.

So now they don't just feel floaty, they don't have narrative weight either. None of them are a clash of ideas because that only happens once there's a victor. That's less interesting than letting what's being said also follow the eb and flow of the combat itself. It's probably part of why TOH's longest fight is like a minute long.

Then again, if I want good fights then I could just go watch Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles because they have throwaway fights that are better animated, better choreographed and have better personality than either TOH's or Amphibia's best fights. Like seriously: If you've seen clips of that show's big ticket fights, I promise you that it's not a once a season occurrence that they have a great fight. That show is incredible with how silly and fun and GORGEOUS its animation is and I still want to know how the fuck they did that on a tv show budget.

But TOH's fights? I can absolutely see how they were done with a tv show's budget and they don't lean into character or creativity enough to make up for that.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#the owl house criticism #toh critical

[muppetable]

incorrect quotes day featuring more stupid shit my friends and i have said!!

roman, using a glue gun: scissors beats paper, but will scissors beat gun?

virgil, using scissors: let's find out

*war ensues*

remus: yeah his name is bob hes really annoying. he doesn't work. i want to pay 400$ to get rid of him but jan won't let me.

patton, not knowing bob is a roomba: *stares in horror*

patton: it's almost like you've never seen the vine boom sound

logan about to snap: oh no i've dropped this apple. very hard. in your direction. at your face.

remus and virgil: *playing with christmas ornaments*

remus's ornaments: *break*

remus: OH NO MY BALLS

virgil: im gonna film as you clean that up

roman: *throws inflatable ring at logan* TRENCH WARFARE

*playing trivia*

virgil: your turn, tap in *slightly pushes logan to his chair*

logan: *trips*

virgil: OH SHIT YOU GOOD

logan: SIR

#cw religious mention #cw swearing #sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #ts sides #sanders sides incorrect quotes

[ghostismybbygorl]

Some silly cod headcannons

Ghosty ghost

Hes got the witch doctor squishable in a keychain version and then the medium size plushie (soap gave him the keychain one)

He sometimes forgets hes wearing his baklava and ends up, taking a shower with it on.  (insert im washing me and my clothes vine)

He's terrified of snakes

He loves abba and will blast dancing queen and sing to it when hes alone (soap caught him singing to it once and lets just say he ended up with a black eye and broken nose)

Hes 35

He loves the Steven king books the shining is one of his favorites

He loves romcoms but is also total psychological horror, fanatic. He absolutely hates the horror movies with jump scares because he can predict when it happens.

He owns a pair of skeleton feet socks, and wears them all the time.

 he owns a whole library of dad joke books

He secretly has a Pinterest

The only social media he has is Instagram (soap made him to download it) and TikTok

watches anime with soap and gaz

Hes kinda sorta vegetarian not for a choice, he just doesnt like meat but he'll eat it if he has to.

He loves abba because it reminds him of his mom (rip ghosts mom)

Blind af he wears contacts, has prescription sunglasses, hes got a pair of these glasses only price knows about it

Carries contact solution with him everywhere

It takes alot to make him laugh but when he does he has a BOOMING LOUD laugh. It like echos through the hallways

Hates getting his photo taken but when he does he either throws up a ✌🏻, 🖕🏼, or the British version of the middle finger

He smokes american spirits

Has slight autism but masks really well

Loves Kentucky bourbon

He has a black cat named Anubis and spoils him rotten

Still a virgin

Soapy soap

Used to be a stripper (had to pay the bills somehow)

He LOVES music festivals

Bros got adhd for days hes like a whole ass ball of energy

Does the leg twitch

Hes 27

He loves dogs

This man SNORES like a motherfucker

Can play the bagpipes but he only brings them out on special occasion

Hes got a tactical kilt that price gave him as a gag gift for Christmas (he secretly loves it and wore it to training once)

Hes roman catholic

Hes got a tattoo of saint michael on his chest for protection.

His patron saint is saint michael

He crinkle his eyes when he smiles he also has a crooked smile

He used to have braces when he was younger

Hes got two little sisters ones 17 and the other is 26 that he absolutely loves and he's PROTECTIVE over them. When his youngest sister brought home her first boyfriend he was sitting on the table sharpening his knifes and told him "if you hurt my baby sister ill fuck you up"

Gym rat

Hes got ALL the social media. Him and gaz have a 300 day streak going on in snapchat. His instagrams are just pictures of him flexing at the gym and occasionally silly photos of him and his sisters. Hes got a tiktok and posts stupid videos of everyone

Hes got a photo of him in full blown drag makeup that his sister did on him

He's bisexual

He lost his virginity at 15

The scar on his chin was from his sister when they where kids. They where 11 and she pushed him causing him to fall on a rock and cut his chin open. He had to get 20 stitches

He watches romcoms with ghost

He loves to draw and he keeps a little doodle book with him at all times

Hes dyslexic

Hes Pretty messy his room is scattered with clothes

He can pop every bone in his body

He punches the air when he gets excited

Loves lizzo, doja cat, and cardi b

papa price

He has a whole collection of cigars that he buys when he travels to different countries

Has a german shepard name leo

Him and laswell are best friends and go on friend dates all the time

He got his first grey hair when he was 17 and was able to grow a beard at the age too

Everyone thinks hes in his 40's but in reality hes 37

He love to hunt and his house has taxidermy animals everywhere

He has a little brother and a older brother. His little brother is 27 and his older brother is 41

He has 2 nieces and 4 nephews (his younger brother has a girl and a boy and his older brother has 2 boys and a girl.

Hes the best damn uncle ever and he spoils the kids rotten.

He reads all the time. His favorite genre is nonfiction auto biographies

He likes to watch sci-fi movies and history documentaries

Says the most random facts ever and no one knows how get learns them

He grunts when he sits down

He has chronic knee pain and they pop when he sits or squats

He dresses like a dad in his civilian clothes gaz and soap make fun of him and joke around calling him papa price

Hes the god father of laswell's kid (she and her wife have a daughter together )

He laughs like santa clause

He shaved his bearded once and everyone thought he was a different person

He's got a baby face under the beard of his

He has a whole collection of hats

Hes gay but everyone thinks he's straight until he mentions his boyfriend

He owns a bearded dragon named roger

He gets carsick so he always has to sit in the front seat

He LOVES ted lasso and dressed up as him one Halloween

Gazzy gaz

Loves anime

Hes very shy when he first meets someone but eventually opens up and is super talkative

Smokes that schweed to help his anxiety (price caught him once but understood when he explained it to him) he only smokes when hes not on a mission

soap smokes with him

He loves the percy jackson books and binge reads them (hes read the series 6 times)

He 26

Hes a only child

His dad is from atlanta and his mom is from london

He used to do ballet when he was a kid and hes still super flexible

He travels from London to atlanta alot

He can dance really well

He Loves country music and is a huge orville peck fan. price suprised him with tickets to see him and he FLIPPED his shit.

Hes gay

He has a grey cat named totoro and a black cat named percy (his full name purrcy jackson the 2nd)

He hates broccoli with a passion

He accidentally called price dad before but, now he does it ironically

He has a collection of baseball caps

He loves baseball and american football

He often quotes vines and tiktok memes. Price will look at him like hes fucking crazy when he does a tiktok dance or quotes something

His tiktok is of him doing dances and soap likes to do it with him too

He will send the most random photos to soap on snapchat.

He loves phycological horror so he'll watch them with ghost. Soap will try to watch it with them but gets too scared.

His favorite movie is silence if the lambs and he will quote "it rubs the lotion on its skin" when he sees someone putting on lotion. That was one of the times ghost laughed. Soap was putting lotion on his skin and kyle snuck up behind him and said that quote causing soap to scream like a girl.

Thats all i got rn i'll do Alejandra rudy next if this gets likes

#ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap mactavish #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fanfic #cod #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john price #captain price #price #kate laswell #headcannons

[waywardrose]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 25

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.3k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs​​​

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: We're in the endgame now! There'll probably be one or two more chapters and an epilogue after this. 🖤 I'll compile and post a masterlist for this fic soon, too!

25

Your heels pounded on the pavement. The pressure patch bounced against your chest. Bitter wind dried your eyes. Ash swirled in the air, creating incomprehensible patterns. It contrasted the dark wall of smoke curtaining the street ahead. You skidded to a stop.

Why were you running towards a fissure? What the hell were you thinking?

You looked over your shoulder. Eddie stepped onto the street, shirt streaked with blood. You couldn’t run in his direction. He was too fast. He’d catch you, take you to Vecna.

Shit, you’d nearly done that yourself.

A roar like a tornado boomed in front of you.

You turned to the fissure. A massive arachnoid shape moved inside the smoke. You stepped back. The blacktop surrounding the fissure cracked further, making you retreat. Vines you’d only seen through the tumbler or in visions snaked into the air.

You couldn’t fight a thing made of smoke. You couldn’t beat back the vines.

Chittering and howls echoed from the fissure, reminding you of a wolf pack. Demodogs, according to Dustin. You’d heard them months ago. The primitive part of your brain had known then they were predators.

There was nowhere to hide. Eddie had already seen you, anyway. However, you couldn’t give up.

With a scan of the street, the only practical option was an alley on your left. You raced into it. Dumpsters, blocky AC units, and dented trashcans blurred as you ran.

A wood pallet soared on your right. It hit the brick wall and exploded into shrapnel.

You shielded your face in your elbow. A board smacked your side. Pain bloomed, muscles cramped. You twisted and gasped, stumbling over shattered pieces of wood.

Eddie stood yards away. From the street, the chittering increased in volume. Your shoulder knocked into a parked box-truck. He stepped forward, relentless and silent. You cursed as you bounced into the wall.

You had to keep moving, had to keep him away from Max.

You jogged into the narrow gap between truck and wall. It was a clear shot to the next street. Unfortunately, the fissure crossed the alley on the other side. Vines slithered up the broken buildings.

To your left, police barricades spanned the street. You couldn’t go right because that would lead you to the nexus. You ran left and realized you were drawing closer to the hospital. At the next intersection, you went left again.

Humvees, camo-painted trucks, and police cruisers rolled away. Plumes of ash spun in their wake. You ran onto the street and yelled for them to stop, but an attack helicopter whooshed overhead. It charged towards the nexus. You had to get out of here. The helicopter launched one of its missiles. A great, monstrous shriek answered. You covered your ears at the cacophony. The ground shook, and you bent your knees to keep your balance. A second later, the report from a blast rattled windows.

You looked back. Eddie steadied himself on the side of a parked car less than twenty feet away. With eyes on you, he pushed off.

You murmured, “Come and get me, baby,” before sprinting down the street.

You passed the police and fire stations, squinting against the falling ash. While you could seek shelter in either place, you didn’t know what Eddie would do to those who got in his way. And you didn’t want to think of what they’d do to Eddie if they saw him.

You needed him to pursue you — and only you.

The nearest fissure cutting through the street stopped you short. Vines zigzagged over the ground. Another monstrous shriek bellowed, and it reverberated in your heaving chest. A neighborhood of older homes sat across the way. You ran between two houses, certain no one was inside — not with how close the houses stood to the fissure.

You hid behind a large oak in the backyard and leaned on the trunk. In the distance, demodogs chittered and gunfire resounded. The hit to your side made itself known as you panted for air. You pressed your palm over it. Muscles spasmed. With a grimace, you repeated the healing spell under your breath. Heat sparked under your skin. Sweat prickled above your lip and at your hairline.

It took a small eternity for the heat to dissipate. You lifted your shoulder to stretch it out. The muscles complained, but it wasn’t a stitch in your side. That was good enough.

Glancing around, it was difficult to find your bearings. You weren’t sure it mattered where you were. Your primary concern was keeping Eddie occupied until you figured out what to do.

A twig snapped.

You whipped to the side to peek around the trunk. Nothing was out of place. No sign of Eddie, either.

Shit.

Had he given up?

No, making the hunted think they were safe was a horror-movie cliché.

You weren’t safe.

You turned to face the other backyards. Still no sign of Eddie. He was hiding and watching. You felt it. He would lose patience soon enough, though.

Instead of running, like your hind brain wanted you to, you walked away from the oak. He wasn’t going to kill you. Vecna didn’t want you dead yet. You marched farther into the neighborhood, navigating fences and darting between houses.

A wooded area bordered the neighborhood. That was a prime place to play hide-and-seek with your undead, psycho-controlled puppet of a boyfriend. Jesus Christ, what was your life? You paused on the curb at the end of a cul-de-sac. The woods lay beyond the arc of houses.

A fence gate clanged before Eddie walked around the corner of a house and stopped in the front yard. He’d smeared the blood from his chin up his sharp jaw. The blood on his scrubs had oxidized to a rust brown. From this distance and through the ash-fall, his cursed eyes could be mistaken for pale ones. It didn’t suit his face. He looked best with brown sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. He looked best smiling. He looked best when he’d been yours.

But he wasn’t yours anymore — and you didn’t know if he’d ever be again.

The edges of your vision blurred. You took a stuttering breath. There had to be a way to get him back. If Vecna could animate him, you could restore him.

You stepped onto the grass, heading for the woods. Eddie matched your pace stride for stride. At the edge of the yard where manicured turned wild, he quickened his steps.

He wasn’t toying with you any longer.

You ran, graceless and bumbling, into the woods. The real fight started now. Under the canopy of ash-covered foliage, shadows deepened. Your heart pounded rabbit-fast. Branches and twigs snagged your sleeves and hair, scratched your exposed skin. You couldn’t hear anything beyond the sound of your panting breath.

After jumping the third log, your thighs almost gave out. You staggered to a thick tree and lay against it. Your temples throbbed with your forceful heartbeat. Sweat beaded down your face.

Sudden weight pressed you against the tree. The musty scent of dried blood filled your nose. Hands grabbed your hips.

“Got you.”

You gasped and tripped sideways. Eddie held the back of your jeans until you pushed him away. He caught your forearm until you wheeled it out of his grasp. You spun and bolted deeper into the woods.

He clawed at your shirt with every step, fingers scraping down your back. You lunged to the side. Arms hooked around you before lifting you off the ground. You kicked out and writhed. He swayed with you to expel your momentum. He then brought your upper body close and dragged his sharp teeth over the side of your neck.

You stiffened, thinking of the MP he’d killed.

This couldn’t be it. Eddie wouldn’t kill you. This couldn’t be what Vecna had planned. It made no sense. You had magic, for fuck’s sake.

“No, let me go!”

“Or what?”

He didn’t even sound out of breath.

You pushed against his arms.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’d like to see you try, witch.”

You arched your back, freeing your arms, and slapped your palms on his cold forearm. You concentrated all your energy into them. The air cooled. The temperature dropped so fast, you expected to see your breath fog. You shivered as goosebumps rose along your skin. You pushed the energy as heat into him.

He howled and released you.

You landed hard and fumbled forward. The energy vanished from your hands like it’d never been there. The air heated. Your forehead ached from the quick temperature change. However, you couldn’t let that stop you. Eddie was right behind you.

After lumbering into a tree, you found your balance and pushed off. You ran with the hope it was away from the houses and fissure.

You glanced back. Eddie was nowhere to be seen. You couldn’t slow to catch sight of him. Like before, you knew he followed you.

He darted out between two trees and tackled you into another. Your back struck the unyielding trunk. It knocked the breath from your lungs. He pressed his burnt forearm across your upper chest, pinning you to the tree.

You heaved for air and pushed at his elbow and wrist. His other hand went to your hip.

“You will see this through,” he said, leaning his weight on you. “It’s your responsibility.”

You shook your head. At one time, having him against you would’ve been a comfort. You would’ve wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck.

He said, “We should thank you, you know. None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t cleared the way.”

You hung your head and held onto his arm. He was right. You’d opened the proverbial door for Vecna.

“I know,” you said. “I thought I understood. I thought… I thought I could heal this place.”

He huffed.

“So arrogant.”

The corner of your mouth quirked.

“Yeah, so fucking arrogant. Just like Vecna.”

“But Source can do what you can’t.”

“Oh?” You met his colorless gaze. “Like make the world worse?” Searching his blank face, you said, “He’s going to kill everything.”

“Sometimes destruction is a means of restoration.”

“That’s not what you believe.”

“What do you know of what I believe?”

“I know you want to create.”

“I am creating — with Source.”

“I thought you wanted to create with me. You wanted to leave this town with me.”

“No, I—”

“Yes. Don’t you remember what you said on New Year’s? You said I inspire you. You want to write songs for me! You said you think about me every day!” You touched his cold cheeks. “You said you’d give me everything.” You inhaled and put weight into your words. “So, give. me. everything.”

The weight of magic overloaded your limbs. You fisted his shirt to stay upright. However, he was no stronger.

Together, you fell to the ground.

Through gritted teeth, he said, “No, I’m doing what needs to be done.”

“For who, huh? You? Me?” You bent closer, taking the risk he wouldn’t choke or bite you. “Don’t you care — about me — at all?”

You wanted to ask if he loved you anymore, but… That was too far, too much. You imagined all the venom Vecna would make him spit.

“I do this because I—” He blinked. “It has to be done.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now?”

“What?”

“He killed me. Vecna killed me. He took Max.” You motioned to your head and said, “He killed me,” before motioning to your heart.

“Then you should’ve stayed dead.”

“Well, here I am.” You threw your hands wide. “Just like you.”

“You’re pointless.” He moved in to drive his words home. “You’re a little rich girl slumming it. You have all this power, but you never make anyone’s life easier. You have it easy. You’re spoiled and entitled, and we’re glad we killed you.”

“Fuck you! He killed you, too!”

What he said couldn’t be true. That’s not what Eddie thought. Right? You weren’t… You couldn’t be… It must’ve been a ploy by Vecna to hit where it hurt. He’d pulled some doubt or negativity from your mind months ago.

“It had to be done,” Eddie said.

“And what’s he going to do when he gets what he wants, huh?”

“I…”

“Answer me! What’s he going to do to us?”

“He’ll…”

“He’ll kill us again, Eddie.”

“No, he—” He frowned, looking away. His mouth opened and closed. “No…”

“Yes!”

You grabbed his face and forced him to meet your gaze. You wouldn’t play into Vecna’s hands by abandoning Eddie. Too many people had done that already, and you refused to be another.

“Come back to me.”

He wrenched his head from your hold to hide his face.

“I can’t come back. No, I— I’m where I need to be. I’m whole here. I’m bigger than… Bigger than—”

“Come back, honey.”

He looked to the side, the corners of his mouth turned down.

“You know, I never told you how you feel to me,” you said. “What you feel like. I figured it out in Chicago. At the concert.” You followed the slope of his blood-covered jaw with your eyes. “With all those people around us, you still stood out to me. I couldn’t help but feel you… feel your warmth.” You rested your forehead on his temple and softly said, “You’ve always been a flame in the dark.”

He propped his hands on his knees, sagging.

You softly added, “He can’t make it out of the Upside Down without us. It’s you and me. It’s always been you and me.”

He pulled away to look at you.

“You and me?”

You nodded.

“However long we got.”

His face became a rictus of pain, eyes going full black. Gray veins wormed under his sallow skin. He shook and wailed. You held his shoulders to keep him upright. He coughed black liquid as his eyes flashed brown. The liquid trickled down his chin to mix with the dry blood. His eyes clouded white.

He listed right. You couldn’t steady him as his weight dropped. You cushioned his head as he fell, your mind racing. Could you use the Eradix spell now? Would it kill Eddie, too? Did you want to gamble with his life? Was the nexus open enough for any spell to get through or not? Would he hate you if you couldn’t do anything?

The whites of his eyes went red — like blood, like lightning. He flailed. The black liquid from his chin smeared your inner forearm. Blistering heat sizzled up your nerves. You pulled away with a curse and a quick draw of breath. Your skin puckered. You needed to get it off you.

The few fallen leaves crumbled in your grasp. You picked at your shirt. If the liquid burned your skin, it would probably burn through clothing. Then you’d be in the same predicament, but this time on your stomach. The only solution was scraping it off.

Leaning over, you bit your lip and dragged your throbbing forearm across the bark of the tree. It abraded the wound like sandpaper. A whine escaped your throat.

Eddie’s yowl eclipsed it. He thrashed to the side. The gray veins darkened. He retched more black liquid. It sprayed over rotting moss.

The entire forest was rotting. The leaden sky became visible as leaves drooped, black and brown and covered in ash. Even the evergreens umbered.

“Eddie,” you said, touching his sallow cheek. “Eddie, don’t leave me.”

He rolled onto his back, coughing a mix of black and red. It splattered his reviving face. The eyes that stared at you were the Bambi brown you adored. Red bloomed across his clothes in blurry slashes and discs.

“No no no no no…”

A pained, distant roar rang through the woods.

You clambered for the side-seam of your shirt. You could use the fabric to wipe the caustic liquid from his skin. Then you had to stop the bleeding. He couldn’t— Not like this. You wouldn’t let him— Not when you could make it right.

His shaking hand made its way to your face, fingers warm on your cheek.

His voice was thick when he said, “Sweetheart…”

You knew what he was going to say, the jerk.

Tearing an uneven strip from your shirt, you said, “Shut up, no.”

His eyelids fluttered and hand dropped to the ground.

“You gotta take ‘im out then.”

“You’re more important.”

He grinned, eyes half-closed and teeth red with blood.

“You flatter me.”

“Quit distracting me.”

You wiped at his chin first, then his cheeks and neck. There had to be a way to get Vecna and heal Eddie at the same time. His bloodstains grew. Time was running out.

“Far be it from…” He panted. “From me…”

“Oh my God, will you be quiet?!”

“Impossible.”

You laughed despite yourself. A sob bubbled out between breaths. Your tears landed on his top. Ignoring them, you threw the soiled fabric and pressed your palms to the biggest bloodstain on his torso. Thick, fresh blood oozed between your fingers. He winced and tensed. You told him to relax.

He breathed, “Fuckin’ bats…”

That was right, the demobats had done this. The bats that had been yours, but taken over by Vecna. They’d become part of the hivemind — and maybe you had, too, until your death. Vecna had sent them. Even if they were dead, they remained a part of him. The hivemind was a loop—

Which meant you could send back what they’d done.

Like a karma spell. What went around came around. You couldn’t recall a full spell, but you remembered enough to focus your intention.

“Stay still,” you said, settling on your calves. “Thought of something.”

He gestured he wouldn’t go anywhere.

You closed your eyes to visualize the vague, shadowy form of Vecna superimposed on Eddie.

“Three times three; Here’s what you’ve bid.” You imagined every bite and every tear pulling out of Eddie’s body. “Own what you did.” You pushed the wounds into Vecna. “Reap what you sowed; A torment you’re owed.”

Eddie twitched under your hands. He choked around broken syllables. One of his hands wrapped around your wrist.

That same pained, distant roar came again.

You met Eddie’s distressed eyes.

“It’s okay,” he croaked. “Keep—”

You nodded, shutting your eyes, and repeated the chant, putting more force behind it. He wheezed as his hold loosened. You bent over him as if to shelter him, but it was too late for that.

You said the spell again. Your fingertips dug into his flesh.

“C’mon, you fucking shit.” You repeated the spell at double speed. “Get out!”

A terrible roar vibrated the very air, resounding from every direction. The ground shuddered. Ash showered from the tree canopy. Eddie’s hand fell from your wrist.

You shoved his shirt up. Your bloody fingerprints joined the blood-rimed scars littering his stomach. Despite the healing, his chest stayed unnaturally still.

If he was healed, why didn’t his chest move?

“Eddie?” You tapped his cheek and put a finger under his nose to check for breath. “Eddie?”

When he didn’t respond, and you couldn’t feel him exhale, you rose onto your knees. You hadn’t cast spell after spell, cried pitchers of tears, and literally died to lose him like this.

Those CPR lessons from middle school had better pay off, you thought as you got into position.

You layered your hands at the center of his chest, hoping you weren’t making a mistake. You used your weight to compress his chest in a fast rhythm. After a few seconds, you tilted his chin back, sealed your lips over his, and breathed air into his lungs.

Cycling through compressions and breathing, you began silently bargaining. If he lived, you’d give up anything — Djarums, wearing black, spellwork. If he lived, you’d do anything — tell your parents about you being a witch, volunteer at an old-folks home, bless every person you interacted with. Anything. Anything to get him back. Whatever higher power out there told you to do, you’d do it.

You puffed into his lungs once, twice. You begged him to breathe. He convulsed, feet kicking the dead leaves. You cried out in relief before resting your forehead on his shoulder. His head flopped to the side as he coughed and sputtered.

His voice was thready as he said, “Ow.”

You straightened and held his cheek. He didn’t pull away from your touch or stiffen, but something in his body language shifted. Like you made him uncomfortable, and he didn’t want you to know you made him uncomfortable.

“Can you breathe okay?” you asked, withdrawing your hand from his cheek. “Any sharp pain?”

“No, just… just sore.”

You nodded, gnawing on your lip, and rubbed your dirty palms on your thighs.

He asked, “Vecna’s alive, isn’t he?”

You nodded again.

With your left eye still cursed, you had to assume so. You’d failed. Sure, you’d injured him. Maybe that would work in El’s favor. Maybe that would be enough.

You glanced at Eddie. He lay in the dead leaves, scrubs bloody and morgue tag around his toe.

Injuring Vecna wasn’t enough. Leaving it to El wasn’t enough.

“I think I can kill him.”

Eddie strained onto an elbow. You reached for him, then stopped short. You didn’t want to make him uneasy. He closed his eyes as he breathed through obvious discomfort.

He asked, “What do you need?” before opening his eyes.

“Nothing.” You swallowed. “I just need to concentrate.”

In the meantime, ash had ceased falling through the withering trees. Chittering from the demodogs had quieted as well. You took that for a good sign. It was time to hit Vecna while he was down.

However, if using magic made Eddie uncomfortable, you wouldn’t do it in front of him.

“Rest here,” you said and scooted back on your knees.

Your gut twisted and muscles quivered. The back of your neck twinged.

“Where—”

“I’ll be over there.” At random, you pointed to your right. “It won’t take long.”

You stood on flimsy legs. The woods spun and became fuzzy. The ground tilted. You caught yourself on aching, tired arms as you collapsed to the side.

Eddie said, “Don’t—”

“No,” you said. “I can do this.”

You shook yourself alert before attempting to stand again. This time, you rose by degrees. Your knees still wobbled, and your fatigued thighs complained, but you stood. You couldn’t give up. Vecna still lived.

Eddie said your name like a question.

You assured him it would be alright. Then, taking deliberate, deep breaths, you heel-toed it to a tree a few yards away. After rounding the trunk, you slumped. The bark caught on your shirtsleeve and flecked away in brittle pieces.

You sank to your knees, skeptical of your ability to stand again. That doubt hardly deterred you. If Vecna died after this spell, you’d sleep off the exhaustion here.

You leaned your shoulder on the trunk and closed your eyes. Even though you had no idea what Vecna looked like, you knew his energy. You threw a silent prayer out to guide the Eradix spell. No one else should be harmed.

Enough people had suffered because of Vecna.

You bowed your head and fisted your hands. “Radicitus scindo, vlaen forma,” flowed from your lips without thought. Thunder boomed nearby. You repeated the incantation, thinking of an arrow nocked. Again, you repeated it. You loosed the arrow. It blazed through the air, its tip glinting sharp and true.

You wet your lips, tasting steel. Each word of the incantation rocked you forward. Your arrow glided through smoke and lightning, a cage of lies, a temple to misery. Dark secrets yielded like the earth to a shovel.

Clouded eyes widened when the arrow struck.

Vines like veins burst to hemorrhage inky bile. It flooded the blood-soaked land in a torrent of black. The red sky turned gray. Screams, mighty and meek, crashed across realities. Pillars housing relics of despair crumbled.

Countless hands rose from the inhospitable depths to flay burnt, corrupted flesh. They whispered his name; your incantation beneath. He attempted to drive them away, but the dead were relentless. They didn’t know pain or exhaustion. There was no torment he could show them to make them cower.

They pulled at his neck, his scalp, his open mouth. He gurgled and choked on decades of his own creation. Pieces of him disintegrated, leaving swirls of gray in the ichor’s black mirror.

The dead dragged him under at last. Then there was silence, like the brief hush after a long exhale.

His inner world fragmented with a bellow of thunder. The last beat of his desiccated heart. Fragments became slices became scraps became splinters became particles — until there was nothing.

Not even your arrow remained.

Cool droplets landed in your hair, slunk down your forehead. You opened your eyes to a murky woodland. Raindrops trickled over trembling leaves. You blinked before bringing your fingers in front of your left eye. You could see them.

The curse had been lifted. Vecna was dead. Was Max awake? There was no reason to think she wasn’t.

With a grin, you called, “Eddie?” and spread your hands on the damp soil.

Only the peaceful tip-tap of drizzle answered.

“Eddie, are you there?”

Using the trunk for balance, you stood. Your rubbery legs held your weight, but you wouldn’t trust them to run a marathon any time soon. You held onto the trunk and inched around it.

Eddie was gone. The used strip of your shirt lay amongst the leaves as evidence he’d been there.

You left the safety of the tree, heading to where you’d left him. You examined the ground to determine where he’d gone, because you couldn’t linger while a storm gathered. Trampled leaves offered some direction. You followed the trail, yet the surrounding woods remained unfamiliar. Of course, you reasoned, you hadn’t exactly been surveying the land as you ran from him.

Step by aching step, minute after barren minute, your heartbeat sped. Your chest constricted. He wouldn’t abandon you. Your shirt dampened with chilly rain and new sweat. He wasn’t callous. The trees all looked alike. You assured yourself you weren’t walking in circles.

Ahead, leaves crunched in uneven strikes. Like tottering footsteps. You opened your mouth to call for Eddie, but you stopped short. That could be anyone. You huddled behind the nearest tree. They could be a soldier or a lone vigilante or an injured demo-creature.

Lord, you hoped it wasn’t a demo-creature.

You put a hand over your mouth and nose to muffle your breathing. Footsteps shuffled past. You stole a quick look, recognizing the dark hair and green scrubs. You slumped and caught yourself before you fell.

“Eddie?”

He spun to face you and winced.

“Hey, I—” He bounced on one foot. “Goddammit…”

He bent and did something at ground-level the leaves obscured. You stood and eased from your hiding spot. He staggered before crowing. He sounded like his old self, which made you smile.

He straightened, holding the morgue tag aloft.

“Fucking thing’s annoying.”

“I bet.” You wiped water from your forehead with the back of your hand. “Where’d you go?”

“Found us a ride.”

“My car’s parked at the hospital.”

“We’ll get it later.” He approached you, tucking the tag in the shirt’s breast-pocket, and held out his hand. “C’mon, our chariot awaits.”

You dried your palms on the sides of your jeans.

“Are you sure?”

He frowned, his hand dropping to the side.

“Sure about what?”

“That you want me touching you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Before… After I…” You sighed and shook your head, too tired to explain. “Nevermind.”

“Hey,” he said, drawing near to cup your cheek with a trembling hand. “We’re—uh… We’re good, alright? I’m… good.”

You put your hand over his and leaned into his touch.

“Me too.” You gave him a wry look. “Under the circumstances.”

He grinned.

“Yeah, your eyes are the same color now.”

You returned the grin.

“Yeah, you’re breathing.”

His grin widened.

“What a pair we make.”

He extracted his hand and offered it for you to take. You curled your hand around his palm. His fingers tightened. That certain touch was enough to keep you going, though neither of you could walk at a brisk pace.

“Sorry if I freaked you out by disappearing back there,” he said as he picked his way through the underbrush. “I wasn’t leaving-leaving, but I knew it was safe. I… I knew you were safe.”

You squeezed his hand in affection before offering your socks to protect his feet. He refused, albeit kindly, explaining he didn’t want to stick around long enough to put them on.

“Are there demo-whatevers out there?” you asked.

“Dead ones.”

“Holy shit.”

“It’s a goddamn mess, but the truck can handle it.”

“Truck?”

“Unlocked. Looked like the owner left in a hurry.”

You didn’t blame them.

He asked, “Where do you want to go?”

With a sigh, you mentally deliberated. Your house was across town. Or at least, you thought it was. His might be closer, but there’d been a gate in its ceiling. No doubt that had turned into the start of a fissure. So that was out. Getting your car from the hospital meant driving close to the nexus — and the heart of the battle.

The underbrush yielded to a carpet of mown grass. Eddie rubbed his feet on it, muttered how much nicer it’d been when he hadn’t felt pain.

The cloudy sky was just a cloudy sky that promised steady rain. The tower of smoke from the nexus had vanished. You’d never experience this level of stillness and quiet. No whoosh of cars, no conversations, no television or radio, no pet noises, no chirping birds. It was like you and Eddie were the last people in Hawkins.

Even so, Eddie hadn’t joked when he said the street was a mess. Demo-creature bodies littered the pavement and yards. Some shaped like canines, others like spindly humanoids, but all their petaled mouths and clawed hands lay limp and bloody.

You whispered, “Holy shit.”

This was what the predators you’d heard months ago looked like. The lamprey-like tooth on your necklace came from them.

The rain started coming faster.

Eddie gave your hand a gentle tug.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

You nodded, letting him lead you across yards, through rusting gates, and around painted sheds. He guided you to the passenger side of a maroon-and-white pickup truck parked in front of a detached garage. The worn interior smelled dusty, but you cracked the window as Eddie slid behind the steering wheel.

He unclipped the steering column and pulled a socket of wires loose. From the bundle, he chose two wires and yanked them from the socket. Using his shirt hem as insulation, he twisted the wires together. The dash lights and radio lit. Static gushed from the speakers. You turned the volume knob until the radio clicked off. He nodded in thanks and pulled another wire loose to graze it with the twisted wires.

Sparks blinked across the exposed metal.

The engine rumbled to life. You hooted in delight and drummed on the dashboard. Eddie beamed at you, revving the engine.

He gave the locked steering wheel a good heave. Metal pinged from inside the steering column. He turned on the windshield wipers and shifted the truck into Reverse.

“Where to, my lady?”

“Well, I’ve been staying at Steve’s, so…”

With a sly look, he asked, “Is there something you wish to tell me?” His eyes widened. “Have I been replaced?”

You chortled.

“It’s not like that.” You poked his upper arm. “I’ll explain on the way there.”

-

Radicitus scindo, vlaen forma = (butchered latin and dutch) By the roots I tear, to flay the body

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

[kibbits]

I finally found a specialist to hopefully help get diagnosed in a few days so to celebrate I’ve got a cute Halloween Idea for the Break A Leg!Boys: While the Pizza Plex is all about general audience family fun, I love the idea that close to Halloween Fazbear sets up something like Knott’s Scary Farms/Fright Fest at Six Flags/Horror Nights at Universal/Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party. During the day, the animatronics and staff (both bot and human) dress in costumes, and let kids dress up in appropriate costumes (American school rules, no excessive gore, no inappropriate clothing, etc). Halloween concerts with Fazbear remixed covers (THIS IS HALLOWEEN BY IZZY REIGN WORKS AS ALL THE GLAMROCKS SINGING), family friendly horror plays, and just before the Plex closes the animatronics get to do mini meet-n-greets, take pictures with kids, and send them on their way with a treat or two (THE BOYS LOSING THEIR MINDS WHEN GROUPS OF PEOPLE COME IN DRESSED AS THEM OMG “MOON LOOK THEY GOT OUR COAT RIGHT!!!” “I KNOW!!”). The fun’s not over. Fazbear really capitalized on the old ‘rumors’ and the power of signed consent forms, and turns the Plex into a giant Haunted House and let’s the crew spook to their delight. The theater becomes the most highly trafficked spot with Moon using his zip line to the fullest, dive bombing guests. Y/N is either assisting, doing some spooking themselves, or if crowds ain’t your cup of tea, they’re in the boy’s room snugged up cozy for when the Plex actually closes for a movie marathon that turns into sleepy cuddles.

- ✨ Starry ✨

Hi Starry!!! I said outside of the ask but HELL ye, I hope everything went well!!!!

Yeeee!!!! god i love those ideas so much!!! I didn't draw a kid or YN wearing one of theirs yet (keeping the second part of your ask for that! Or might combine with another one) but I love the idea, ough!!!

Man I agonized the longest time about the classic monsters but!

And the sketch

Sun is a Mad Scientist with a booming cackle, he keeps startling people by laughing super loud suddenly. He has 'potions' (fizzy faz) and will practice evil laughing with the kids

In this case YN is Frankenstein's monster - fitting for an assistant

Gave YN the monster because I didn't want to give that look to the boys after the last pic where they were strapped to a table in storage, and also its a good middle ground between the scientists who creates them and the undead!

Moon is indeed a gremlin of a ghost who keeps dive-bombing guests djdjd can also yell banter from up high/help guests who get lost in the maze. Loves to do the thing like the Vine where the person lets all their limbs go slack like hes a dead body being carried around by the fly system fjdnf

Drawn in the weekly magma, it was fun!! Thanks for the ask! <33

#asks #beloved starry✨️ #break a leg!au #fnaf dca #fnaf y/n #my art #kibsFNAFstuff

[sardonic-the-writer]

↳ summary: this is surviving. not living. living is going to sleep at night with a warm smile and full belly. living is meeting up with your friends at the movies and laughing when soda gets spilled all over your laps. living is not running from a mob of infected with a stab wound. that fact haunts you. and it had been ever since the start of this hell on earth. ever since that first zombie had appeared, you knew life would be different. if you even lived long enough to see it change that is

↳ fic navigation: one hundered days

↳ song: one hundered days playlist

masterlist

It wasn't loud, but it wasn't quiet.

Vines covered the ground and everything smelled dead. Chunks had been torn straight up from the cities pavement. Trash littered the ground. And despite the sunny day, a cold chill had permanently fallen over the street. The only sign of bona-fide life that these empty walls had seen since the beginning of all this was a flea bitten tabby dragging off a rats corpse.

And how long ago was the beginning of all of this exactly?

Seventeen days.

Seventeen days of these mutilated monsters scurrying around the earth's surface.

That also happened to be how long it had taken you to run.

Suprisingly, living in the country had almost been your downfall. Dont let all those cliche horror movies lead you astray; living on the outskirts of town was possibly the worst place to camp out durring impending doom. Sure, it had been tear jerking to see the house that you had built with your own two hands get over run by the undead, but with nothing but corn and a few plaster walls stopping those bastards from reaching you, it didn't take a genius to figure out that you couldn't stay.

Honestly thats the only reason why you had found yourself walking quietly along the side of a beaten down road, hiding amongst the long shadows of surrounding buildings.

Poorly padded backpack straps dug into your right shoulder, proving to be a real pain to lug around. It had used to be heavier, filled with as many things that you had been able to pack before the door had been broken down by a pack of zombies. But after taking off a couple days ago in hopes of finding somewhere else to start a home, your food supply was running thin. You had resorted to only eating one meal a day now instead of three.

You couldn't help but wish for better times. That instead of stalking the streets of a once booming now turned abandoned city, you were out at a run down seven eleven drinking slushies untill your teeth turned different colors. Laughing the afternoon away with friends, family—someone. Anyone at all.

But you didn't feel like laughing much anymore.

A grunt slipped past your lips as you tripped on a small rock, immediately noticing how chapped your lips were as they made the sound. The thought of water crossed your mind for a fleeting momemt, mouth already beginning to feel a bit more dry the more you thought about it. But with a shake of your head you continued on down the road.

Mentioned structure stretched on for seemingly miles. You knew it couldn't be more than a few city blocks, but everything seemed warped nowadays. Nothing had changed but your perspective, yet that made all the difference. Well that and the zombies loitering everywhere, but you tried not to focus on the details.

Details like how dark it was getting.

Shadows passed along your stony expression to show the sudden dim in natural light source. In the distance, the sounds of groaning mobs grew louder. The sound was as pleasant as one could imagine. Like the soothing lullaby of a trash compactor it was.

The executive decision to scale up the closest building via indoor ladders was an easy one. It was the same one you had been making for the past few nights in hopes to rest your aching feet and ease your mind.

Only one of those normally worked.

But you'd never seen a structure but on top of a building like this.

It was too new; too well built for something in a run down city like this. And considering the thing you were speaking of was just a small hut with only three walls and a line of iron bars, that was saying something.

The spruce wood stuck out like a sore thumb, some torches with nearly dead embers lighting your face up with a soft orange light. It brought a smile to your face, the formerly mentioned dried skin on your lips cracking slightly from the effort. But you couldn't care less.

This meant that you had a temporary home. It was shitty, small, and unfurnished as hell, but it was yours now. It had even come with torches, something you had been meaning to get ever since discovering they somewhat warded off zombies back at your farmhouse.

Blowing on the sources of light slightly, you settled into a corner of the hut as the fire crackled to life. For now, the backpack would have to act as a pillow—just as it has been for the past handful of nights.

Your breathing slowered to a steady rhythm, a pattern you had taught yourself long before this disaster to help with nightmares.

Today had been fine, great even with the new discovery of this little aclove, but how long would that last before something else happened again?

You let out a tired sigh as you quieted your mind, content to let that question wait untill later.

#charlie slimecicle #charlie #slimecicle #charlie slimecicle x reader #charlie x reader #mcyts #scu apocalypse #100 days minecraft apocalypse #x reader #schlatt x reader #schlatt #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader

[pastel-pillows]

Line request: I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me.

Angst angst angst. I’m sorry boom, for a plot based off of this line i thought of this:

There’s a way back, etched across the wall of an innocuous building that he’d passed every day in the real world. He could break it open, save himself from the streets that’d long since blurred together in a mess of rotted vines and crumbling concrete, but a way out for him meant a way in for the things that still went bump in the distance, close enough to be heard but never to be seen. If he went back, whatever had been following might just come with.

-Eddie walks the paths he used to take to school/home/dnd meetings every day so he can maintain some semblance of the life he had and his sanity

-He sits and stares at the jagged portal everyday for hours dreaming of the sun and sky and friends that are just feet away

-he makes a list of pros and cons in his head every time he finds himself starting to break down and waiver in his choice to keep the upside down in the upside down

-the deciding factor for him always ends up being you and how he can’t bring himself to bring these horrors back into your life

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson #eddie munson x you #boomhauer ❤️

[searchingforserendipity25]

Curufin!

Character Ask Game 💚🤍🖤

Thank you @welcomingdisaster! :)

Give me a character and I will give you my thoughts on

Curufin

one aspect about them i love 

Favourite Daughter Syndrome, and committed to it. 

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

As much Aredhel’s friend as Celegorm or Caranthir. Well-spoken and very compelling; very strongly attuned to everyone's position and presentation in any conversation, and when he talks/acts it's very deliberately a give-take-overcome situation, both in Nargothrond and confronting Beren and Lúthien.

Very reactive, aware of other people's possible reactions. Shows a remarkable talent in slipping in and saying the correct thing at the correct time with fantastic oration skills. These are good qualities and not evil in themselves! It's what he uses them for that's the problem.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

Genuinely liked Telchar more than most elves, including his brothers. A true friendship of like minds, soul sisters of the craft, bffs of the forge. Celebrimbor wants what they have (and he gets it with Narvi, but not after pining after a number of cool dwarrows and having his hopes for a partnership dashed.) 

as well as

one character i love seeing them interact with

Finrod. Everything about the bonds of betrayal and gratitude and betrayal again, mutual attraction and mutual (dis)illusionment, a far clearer mutual understanding than either of them wants to admit, both regarding the best and the worst parts of their characters…

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

Aredhel! Again, I find their friendship fascinating.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

Felt pretty bad - as in, mind-breaking guilt very badly managed - about telling Eöl where Aredhel and Maeglin were going, in hindsight; but genuinely thought this was a political move on Aredhel’s part at the time.

Marry a Sindarin lord, start thawing Turgon’s anger about her disappearance by presenting her cute kid, and then her husband shows up and boom! diplomacy happens. There’s a half-Noldo with a feet in Nan Elmoth. Not a bad choice, as far as he's concerned; Finrod and his siblings have Thingol’s favour, the Feanorians are all out, where does that leave Fingolfin and his children in terms of footing?  Eöl’s chase seems consistent to what he knows of Aredhel - hardly the first time she got an idea in her head and left others behind in the assumption they’d do what she planned them to do.

He didn’t at all think she did it on purpose for mere political convenience - Aredhel only does her own convenience, mostly, and power plays of the polis kind aren't her thing. But he knows how she chafes at restriction and longs for vastness, control, agency and liberty, and if she fell in love with a treacherous sentient forest, well, it’s not that surprising. 

Curufin’s failure is always in underestimating everyone else. The forest gripped Aredhel not the other way around. 

Quite envious that Turgon got to kill Eöl - but also very glad that he wasn’t the one to do it and deal with the consequences to his network in Himlad and in the dwarrow kingdoms.

Knowing Eöl, he suspected the consequences would be quite terrible; would not have been surprised at the Doom he cast over Gondolin, and indeed counted on it and mentally scrapped Gondolin as any kind of use afterwards (went so far as to be glad that they weren't joining the Union, and lowkey blamed them for the defeat and how it changed their plans/added another Doom).

If Aredhel and Maeglin had stayed in Himlad, Curufin would have done so much for them (derrogatory but mostly well intended). The coup of Nan Elmoth by Maeglin’s regents would be truly a tale for the ages (a horror tale). Strangling vines, poisonous ponds, anti-colonialist spiders, Aredhel vs Mablung in a fight for survival in the wilds when Thingol sends someone to figure out what’s going on, Maeglin running around with a cursed blade - we could have had it all! 

#thank you welcomingdisaster! #curufin is a hard one to pin down in a good way. i need to reread so many thing! #curuin #aredhel #eol #maeglin #the silm #asks and answers

[leffee]

Vinnil headcannons?

I-I take it you liked the last ones? Or maybe you didn't and hoping that by requesting more I will say something you like 😂 I mean, I'll try :p

that reeeeally depends on my mood but often, I don't want them to have a happy ending. Or rather, I want Vinnie to fall and fall hard, and then be rejected, nicely of course, and then Sunil gets with someone else, anyone, be it Delilah, Russell, Pepper, whoever. And then Vinnie is miserable,

not much would change between them once they become lovers, because of course they were best friends before, so the main thing that changes it just the status quo, though they still by mistake call each other best friends sometimes. Like if let's say Sunil is introducing them he'd be like "I'm Sunil and this is my best friend, V- I mean boyfriend, Vinnie." They're just used to it, it won't immediately settle in their minds overnight no matter how happt they are, you know?

Vinnie is shameless, or rather he looks like he is. But anyway, now Sunil has to deal with that more than ever. Because if Vinnie wants to he will climb on top of a table in public, or start screaming loudly in a mall, or eat super sloppily in a resturant. Stuff like that,

Listen, liSteN, Sunil is the more teasy one, or at least once he gets really comfortable in their relationship. Because Vinnie has a more "cherishing" style of romantic love with Sunil, but once Sunil's comfortable he gets more playful,

of course they still watch horror movies, it's something they have been doing for a long time, but that's also why it's so important. Because they do it still, but differences appear with how close they are, what kinda of cuddling positions they are in, the kisses that appear that of course didn't before. It's important to them,

and although I like Vinnie to be the more protective one (he's normal guuuys, he's just a lil obsessed), Sunil can be too. And when he is, especially if Vinnie is talking with someone who Sunil basically feels bad vibes from, he will simply stand behind him and wrap his arms around his waist, and just stand there. He wouldn't even be passive-agressive or anything, but he would be wary

Aaand I think that's all. Well, those aren't all the headcanons I have for Vinnil techincally, but I'm way too ashamed to share others I have. Because while they are techincally Vinnil headcanons they are heavily Vinnie-centric bc he's my little guy. And literally all of them I think work under the "Vinnie is literally no joke obsessed with Sunil, yes, to the very unhealthy amount" which I know sounds like I want to make him a yandere. Well, you're right, I do vine boom sound. I love making my favourite characters like that and he's no different. But it's also a little bit of cringe for me

#don't look at me like that I didn't say that #vinnil #asks #vinnie terrio #sunil nevla #lps 2012

[actofscoobris]

Scooby-Doo! and the Witch's Ghost

Original release date: October 5, 1999

Date watched: March 9, 2022

Runtime: 66 minutes

Synopsis: Horror writer Ben Ravencroft has invited the gang to his hometown of Oakhaven, Massachusetts. His ancestor, Sarah, was executed in the 1600s for supposedly being a witch, and he has been trying to clear her name. Making his job more difficult is the witch’s ghost that is haunting the town. Well, it turns out that was just a publicity stunt cooked up by the mayor to drum up tourism. Ah, well! Oh, wait, Scooby-Doo just dug up the book that will finally clear Sarah’s–oh wait, she actually was a real witch who used her powers for evil and her ghost has now been resurrected. Oopsie! Ben tries to convince her to rule the world alongside him but she decides to destroy everything as vengeance for her original execution. Thanks to the lead singer of the eco-goth band The Hex Girls being 1/16th Wiccan (???), she is able to trap Sarah back in the spellbook, although she drags Ben into it with him. A burning tree branch then falls on the book and burns it, confirming Ben Ravencroft as the first person to die in a Scooby-Doo movie.

Culprit: The movie subverts this really nicely, unmasking the initial witch as the town’s pharmacist, Mr. McKnight, about halfway through. And then surprise! Real witch.

Guest star(s): Tim Curry as Ben Ravencroft, Jennifer Hale (2) as Thorn, Jane Wiedlin (of The Go-Go’s) as Dusk, Kimberly Brooks (Ashley in Mass Effect, Jasper in Steven Universe) as Luna

Trivia: The original screenplay for the film ended with the revelation of the first witch being fake–everything involving the real witch’s ghost was added onto that. 

Ratings

Spookiness: A little less harrowing than Zombie Island, Witch’s Ghost still has several frights that would give any child nightmares. Take your pick: pumpkin monsters using vines to grab your ankles and drag you away, a giant turkey extending its neck to try to bite you, or a vengeful spirit attacking you with blasts of fire. It’s clear that the creative team wasn’t given as much leeway as they were in the previous movie, but they still do a lot with what they have. MARINA: 3.5 LAURA: 4

Characterization: A lot like how Harley Quinn originated as a character exclusive to Batman: The Animated Series and then became so popular that she started appearing frequently outside that series, The Hex Girls are easily the most iconic original characters from any Scooby-Doo movie. They went on to appear in another Scooby movie and three Scooby TV shows. Hot Topic launched a clothing line based on them last year! Their presence alone is enough for a 5 in this category, but let’s not forget we had a Tim Curry-voiced antagonist who’s a pastiche of Stephen King, and a real witch’s ghost with big titties and a booming Tress MacNeille voice. I actually have to break the scale for this one. MARINA: 6 LAURA: 5

Overall: The only possible knock I can think of for this movie is that it treats Wicca like a…race? That said, Laura did point out that maybe that’s just how it works in the Scooby-Doo universe since, you know, magic is real and all. Otherwise, this really is basically the platonic ideal of a Scooby-Doo movie. It even has beautiful animation at times, especially during the climax. There are a lot of reasons this one is a cult classic. MARINA: 5 LAURA: 4.5

Outlandishness: This is the first Scooby-Doo movie with a body count. Like, I’m not even sure if describing it as “Ben Ravencroft died” is even accurate. He was dragged, kicking and screaming, into his dead ancestor’s spellbook by his dead ancestor’s ghost. And then the book caught fire and turned to ash. Is he in Purgatory? Is he in a realm between life and death? Did the powers that be see fit to show him mercy and let him die, or will he exist in unending agony and isolation until the end of time? Any time a Scooby movie elicits these questions, that’s a 5. MARINA: 5 LAURA: 5

Brevity: At a mere 66 minutes, this clocks in as the shortest Scooby movie yet, even shorter than the baffling Arabian Nights. That’s a crime. I would have liked a little bit more time with the witch’s ghost. This is officially the first Scooby movie that I wish was longer. That keeps it from getting perfect marks in this category. MARINA: 4.5 LAURA: 4.5

Final ratings: MARINA: 4.8 LAURA: 4.6

#scooby-doo #scooby doo #scooby doo and the witch's ghost #an act of scoobris

[ughscara]

interjection. aka, a series of questions that literally no one asked me.

“for how long have you been writing?”

╰┈➤ ever since i was little really. i used to read a lot of books and light novels as well as watch pretty much what i found likeable on tv back then ( god i sound old ). i abruptly stopped writing for a good three to four years until 2021 rolled around and i felt excited to write once again.

“why did you decide on sticking to writing for one character? said character being scaramouche?”

╰┈➤ he's my special interest and my favorite fictional character of all time as a whole. he awakened the inner writer in me back in 2021, and my immense adoration for his character prior to his arc in sumeru and appearance in inazuma ( i absolutely adore his character progression now i love him sm ) that pushed me to let the brain worms rot and i thought hey, i really love his character, i love his story and he's a fun character in general in my eyes to write for so i went for it :)

“were you writing on tumblr before 2023?”

╰┈➤ the answer surprisingly enough is yes, i was on tumblr for a good while ( three years ). i mainly stuck around because scara content obviously but it was also fun discovering the world of fanfiction through the site. seeing so many talented authors only made the motivation to write again grew more. i used to write on my old blog too but not for scara ( vine boom. what a shocker ) instead, i was just rambling and had a bit of a heizou era there.

“your content for scara mostly consists of fluff, hurt / angst with or without comfort. any specific reasons for that choice?”

╰┈➤ it's more fun imagining him not being smashed for once. jokes aside though — i genuinely do think it's fun to imagine him in scenarios that are just really nice and fluffy and are moments that, in spite of their simplicity, still have an impact on how he'll perceive it down the line ( that's for fluff ). as for angst and hurt ( either with or without comfort ) he is an ancient traumatized man that even after five centuries worth of trauma still has angst potential <3 i love him, i don't ever want to see him suffering ever again, but i am one of those authors where happy things just don't fucking stick.

“ever considered writing smut or not-sfw?”

╰┈➤ nope, and i intend to stick on writing heavily suggestive things at best because that is the most comfortable i can get with the topic. as for not-sfw; if we're talking dark content such as horror and yandere themes — that's a maybe. but for the time being, i am not delving too much into it if not at all.

“will you write for other characters?”

╰┈➤ possibly. but not as extensively as i do with scara.

“any other characters you love ( from genshin )?”

╰┈➤ naturally! i feel indifferent about a lot of the cast. but the ones i do favor apart from kuni are columbina being my second favorite then lynette, lyney, xiao, albedo, arlecchino, freminet, furina and lastly rosaria and kokomi.

“specific question: which seelie did you choose from the lost riches event?”

╰┈➤ brilliance for kuni on my main account, rosé for columbina on my alt account.

“you don't write for kabukimono a lot unless it's for when you write about the eccentric squad, why's that?”

╰┈➤ poured my soul, blood sweat and tears into my series on tumblr. and apart from that, the majority of my content for kabuki is leaning on a more original content side if that makes sense, and that ( much to my dismay and the fuck i couldn't give ) isn't something favorable to tumblr readers so i move most of said original content featuring kabu to my ao3 :)

“if genshin is over and there's no such thing as scara content anymore, how will you go on about your journey as a writer?”

╰┈➤ i'll move on to making my own original content, it's that simple. after all, kuni isn't the only driving force for my passion as a writer — his existence to me was what allowed for my greatest passion to be literally reborn ( unapologetic kuni lore ref ) and i mean it from the bottom of my heart when i say that. i'll probably make some bs like a proper send-off that is so sappy and cheesy it'll make one go "ain't no way she's serious about this"

“let me guess, scara also sucked you into playing the game?”

╰┈➤ yes. and he brought me back to it too.

inbox questions: 1 .

#this is kind of silly but it's fun so if you have any random questions for me‚ go on ahead! i'll answer them in the comments or inbox ~

[frostbite-the-bat]

OK this time I wad a less pleasant dream

Warning for mentions of gore and animal harm

- in my dream I heard from mole that someone made a funny pacesetter.exe game using Mario 64 for some reason so I downloaded it but when we tried running it, it didn't work

I continued on my life then, and did my art and other things... Until my computer began acting weird and slow and so I restarted it. The internet has been acting weird in the dream beforehand too but that's unrelated - I went on my switch to play games but then I saw my screen light up and I see my wallpaper has changed

I walk over and it's text saying that my computer is being watched and hacked by devs of the game and that I'm dumb for downloading it - and for me to appease them I have to put Toontown fanart into one of the folders in the game files

I go through the files and there's many gore images, mostly of dead animals. I get to the folders without images and I make a text file and start typing, and here's what I remember typing:

"Hello, I am Guzma / Cathal, but I'm mostly known as Frostbite-The-Bat in the community. (Can't remember) I apologize for whatever I've done that has angered you. Please inform me of any other ways I can appease you -"

And I get cut off and windows start moving around and my cursor starts being hard to control. Another text file opens up and text starts appearing that I don't remember but it was very memey and jokey and clearly tried intimidating me. They used fonts and ominous messages - but I saw these were trolls who do this for fun and so I joined in, hoping that'll get me on their side.

"Oh, and you'll type THAT using the halloween font, right?"

"yeah right"

And then we both began fucking around with the fonts for a while, seeing that a lot of them even morphed into images that'd overlay the whole text. Some were more weird, like a foot frozen in ice and some little animal on an Ai generated green colored torso in a dentists office

Once I had more control again, I continue typing in my own text post:

"I am only typing this formally now, believe me I don't speak like this often. I don't have anything to offer aside from art due to my living conditions. Please, from one TTCC fan to another, what can I do to stop you from hacking my computer?"

Some time then passes and I hear a voice, which sounded Exactly like snapcube Eggman showing me things in a presentation with various drawings - supposedly the images of animals they had were from the group who made this game

"so yknow those machines that exist to make those flavored burgers. you put a soda in the bottom and it squeezes it and it then goes up. WELL SO WE THOUGHT what if we put a chicken in there? and so we did. and when we did it SQUISHED IT and all the organs went up, and the skin and the bones remained on the bottom where it crushes those cans! then yknow how it poops out the soda can remains? it did so with the chick, too, it looked really gross. we read something online that chicks can survive with one drop of water and so we injected it with water in the forehead. then, it slowly got up! with no blood or anything, it was loving again! this was it can grow it all back and we can repeat the process without buying any new animals!"

And the machine looked like this on the presentation:

It then began showing the baby chick in detail, and I was getting really uneasy and so I woke up.

I have in fact overslept my alarm even if it literally fucking blares VINE BOOM SOUND EFFECT. also about my prev post I would be delighted to get The Fabled Ibuprofen We Love On Tumblr for my ouchies however I AM not getting up oh gooedudddgb hbhhhghhgjjjhjhjhjhmhnnjhh

Considering this dream was about Pacesetter I nerd to fill you in on the inside joke that, anytime I'm going through The Monthly Horrors, I call it "I'VE TURNED INTO PACESETTER" so that's that

I'm very glad it was real because getting hacked live like that is genuinely so fucking scary

#Guzma's dream journal

[shepfax]

legendary 3x04

WHORROR theme. YES

Leiomy looks absolutely sickening in this little latex Freddy Kruger latex number I'm so excited to see her lil finger clap in that glove lol

Revlon did good, wanted to see more hands but overall they do not disappoint!

YOHJI YAMAMOTO DOING CARRIE???? LETS FUCKEN GOOOO

Luz's plate found fucking empty, I adore this, but it really was JUST her, the house was literally backup dancers

Ada's theme is fascinating. Jesus Fucken Christ The Bazoingers. on a technical level it was a lil low energy

I wonder like...do any of these girls know you can feature a hand specialist without making the rest of the house family look like literal npcs

not the yassified Jigsaw 😭 wtf

GAS G-G-G-GAS

Law just horny for Alpha Omega that's all. he suckin on their boots bc they're all men he finds hot. he is so boring

Juicy Couture has not missed bitch!!!!

making most of their members monsters is SO good I love it

Freddy Kreuger is the perfect character for a hand performance and they did it fucking amazingly

Makaveli look sickening in these little cenobite fits but the moves feel kinda. amateurish

bitch did the editor just use a vine boom unironically

law girl what the fuck are you doing singing your little ditty and then talking about how tough you are. you're not fuckin funny. you're shallow and unprofessional. I wish they let the dolls beat his ass

I'm sad Labeija hasn't been as star-studded as I expected based on name recognition so I hope they do good today

Comfortably average performance from Labeija. wasn't awful but wasn't incredible

maybe I'm spoiled by Dragula but I expect more of horror drags than this

mother makaveli took the battle imo

Law IF YOU DONT SIT YOUR ASS DOWN.

well. saw it coming. bye Ada see u layta

#legendary #legendary on hbo #legendary hbo #hbo legendary #shepliveblogs