#cult mindedness

[sher-ee]

These are the MAGA people that leave comments on my posts.

They also are people who vote.

Make sure you vote and get others to vote too. This Trump lunacy must end.

Biden - Harris 2024

[23meteorstreet]

it's so interesting seeing people point out things that were upsetting about mac & dennis's dynamic in the last ep. none of those things really bugged me not bc i don't think they're toxic but bc they didnt't feel ooc or surprising in any way? like it's essentially a lot of shit they've done & gone thru in previous eps just packaged in a different way.

[giantsnweretigersnbugbearsohmy]

Some of the Yu apologist arguments in the tag really make me wonder.

[patches-bitsandbobs]

I can't speedrun RE4 because I get to Krausers fight and spend 10 minutes looking at him

[sgiandubh]

https://www.tumblr.com/bootsaucepunk/749452398271037441/so-cbs-issue-of-reserved-mag-made-into-a?source=share There are a lot of different weights and measures around here, but this one definitely rocks. The expensive and innocuous magazine is criticized even by C's stans, but now it becomes a fashionable item because it was donated to charity. Caitrìona didn't even have any direct involvement in this, for God's sake! This week we had very harsh criticism of the program led by Sam (who, by the way, effectively establishes relationships with the benefiting institutions) and a lot of mockery for the birthday fundraiser led by Tash...

Dear Weights and Measures Anon,

Ah, you mean the Barbour Idiot, who had no idea about Eastern Europe and felt too cool for school to ask or research, right? For the record, here: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/740235847510654976/when-you-do-not-know-a-thing-about-the-issue-at. A prime example of intercontinental blindness: North Americans thinking they know better than the people who live there, just because they are North Americans. Don't get me wrong: I am a lover and keen connoisseur of Americana, but this particular mentality clique always gets on my nerves. It is idiotic and gratuitous, and even more so when disguised in empty, demagogic right-mindedness.

This particular blogger is one of the most vulgar, nasty and cruel people on Tumblr, ever. Also a liar and a superficial twat - is it so hard to double check the things you are posting, for factual accuracy, before hitting that post now button?

Let's see what the whole hysteria is about, now:

First lie: the Reserved mag issue was 'made into a hardcover book for charity with her autograph'. It was not. Aside the cult and borderline obsessive following & interest she enjoys, courtesy of the OL fandom and (as far as obsessive stretches, all the way to Kamchatka and back) of her disturbed Stans, she is not that well known. Stop lying just to make her more important than she is, you are not helping her at all.

Turning a magazine into a yearly book format was Reserved's editorial team marketing choice, as I explained in my last post on that issue. It has nothing to do with Caitriona Mary Balfe and her 2020 photoshoot for Ellen von Unwerth, a slim part of that particular Reserved volume.

Here is the official statement, one last time, for the vulgar freak in the back:

See? Nothing to do with her.

Second lie: CMB was directly involved in that charity event. She was not and never meant to. One more time, she has nothing to do with the event and just shared the story on her IG account, knowing full well it will stir ahem... interest. Yeah, interest is best, in this context.

One more time, for the idiot in the back:

The copy was donated by the redhead Reserved editor-in-chief, Jules Wood. I explained it yesterday, Anon.

Pitching S against C is the clinical side of the Disgruntled Tumblrettes' pure hatred of that man who dared not to sleep with them. Sorry to be blunt: sometimes, a cat is a cat. The Gay Charade is just a sophisticated, Munchhausen-level theory for the parochial racists and homophobes of 'Murica, primarily.

Think I went too far? How about this post from the same nasty individual?

The 'trans fucking weirdo' was an unneeded, yet revealing detail, for a weirdo is a weirdo, no matter their gender orientation.

What a Fascist clown.

[Later edit]: what the heck ever happened to The Sparkly (Sparkling?) Lounge Manager? Dish it out, Anon, I am far from being ubiquitous. Thanks.

[our-lord-satanas]

LUCIFER

WHO IS HE?

In Demonic culture, Lucifer is often described as a fallen angel who was cast out of heaven, he is also described as the ruler of Hell, and the Prince of the demons. He is often seen as a symbol of the light bringer, the keeper of secrets and knowledge, and the ruler of the underworld. His followers are often referred to as "Luciferians" or "Luciferians," a term that has been used to describe a wide variety of secret societies and mystery cults. Lucifer is seen as a powerful and dominant entity, and he is associated with mischief, rebellion, and chaos.

BASIC INFO:

Appearance: Lucifer is described in many different ways in Demonic culture. The specific characteristics and appearance of Lucifer can vary greatly, depending on the source and cultural context. Some descriptions of Lucifer depict him as a beautiful and angelic being, while others describe him as a terrifying and demonic entity.

In many Western traditions, Lucifer is seen as a fallen angel, though his appearance in these representations can vary greatly. Some common portrayals of him include that of a winged figure, with red horns and a tail, or as a very beautiful and angelic-looking character.

Personality: Lucifer is nothing if not charming. He’s a protector first and foremost - one that always works to help you better yourself, but a protector nonetheless. He feels like a protective older brother taking care of you while your parents are away. He is a very complex entity, deeply wise and eloquent. He is more serious than one might expect for a demon given their popular depictions in our culture as chaotic forces of evil, but Lucifer is full of courage and love. I often feel him with me even when I’m not doing things related to him. He is proud of his follower’s accomplishments and congratulates them on a job well done, though he also reminds them that the job is never truly over. Growth is constant, Lucifer is the epitome of growth, blunt and gentle at the same time, telling you what you need to do and giving you space to figure out how to do it. 

Lucifer values resilience, the pursuit of self-betterment, intellectualism, courage, open-mindedness and responsibility in individuals and wants to see his followers develop these qualities. He is constantly rooting for you to reach your full potential. He won’t hold your hand the entire way, but he will help you take steps in the right direction. Lucifer, like all deities, is different for everyone and will adjust his approach depending on your needs.

Symbols: Sigil of Lucifer, The Morning Star, violins and fiddles, dragons, wings, serpents, black goats, inverted pentagram, light, and the pentacle.

God of: illumination, light, darkness, change, rebirth, challenges, innovation, logic, truth, knowledge, wisdom, strategy, persuasion, revolution, luxury, pleasure, freedom, The Arts and The Morning Star (“Morning Star” is another name for the planet Venus)

Culture: Demonic and Roman

Plants and trees: belladonna, mulberry, patchouli, myrrh, min, tobacco, marigold, lilies, hyacinth, rosemary, and black poppies, lavender, mint, blackberries, sage, apples, pomegranates, lilac, rose, black pepper, hyssop, gardenia, geranium, garlic, yarrow, and cypress.

Crystals: opal, jade, black tourmaline, rose quartz, amethyst, black obsidian, onyx, garnet, and selenite.

Animals: black animals in general, snakes, spiders, ravens, wolves, dragons, eagles, crows, goats, bats, rats, moths, flies, peacocks, insects, and swans.

Incense: rose, frankincense, patchouli, and myrrh.

Colours: blue, red, black, gold, emerald green, and silver.

Tarot: The Devil

Planets: Uranus and Venus.

Days: Saturday, Friday, Lupercalia, Halloween and the Samhain Celebration, and The Summer Solstice.

Parents: Aurora and Cephalus

Siblings: none known (demonic culture wise)

Partner: Lilith

Children: Naema, Aetherea, Ceyx, and many others.

MISC:

• Snakes: Lucifer is often associated with snakes and serpents, which represent his connection to the serpent in the Garden of Eden and his association with temptation and knowledge.

• Fire: the fire motif is often used to represent Lucifer's connection to rebellion, destruction, and his nature as a fallen angel.

• Crowns: crown motif is often used to represent Lucifer's leadership and his status as the ruler of hell.

• Pentagram: a well-known symbol of Satanism and Luciferianism. It represents the balance and harmony between the five elements of the universe and the unity of the spirit as its center. It is also a common symbol of protection and good luck.

• Dragons: Lucifer is often depicted flying on a dragon or as a dragon-like creature, which represents his powerful and fearsome nature.

• Light: Lucifer is also strongly connected with the light, with his name being a reference to lightbringer or lightbearer. This connection represents his role as a bringer of knowledge and light and his association with enlightenment and wisdom.

• The Morning Star: Lucifer is often referred to as the "Morning Star" or "Light-Bringer", which represents the role as a bringer of knowledge and enlightenment.

FACTS ABOUT LUCIFER:

• Name: Lucifer is known by a variety of names, including Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Lightbringer, and the Destroyer.

• Character: Lucifer is a powerful and wise angel, but is also known for his pride and rebellion.

• Role: in Demonic mythology, Lucifer is the angel of light and the morning star, and was the most beautiful and majestic of all the angels.

• Relationships. Lucifer is known to have a close relationship with Ares, the god of war, as they are both known for their aggression and passion.

• The most important days of the year for him is December 23rd, when the sun is one degree into Capricorn, and the day following the beginning of the Winter Solstice is his Personal Day.

• Nature: when Lucifer fell from heaven, he became known as the angel of darkness and the destroyer.

• His directions are South and East.

• His zodiac signs are Aquarius, the Water Bearer, and Capricorn, the Goat.

• Connection to Prometheus: in Greek mythology, Lucifer is also connected to Prometheus, an ancient titan who stole the fire of the God’s to give to humans.

• His numbers are 13, 666, and 4.

HOW TO WORSHIP LUCIFER:

To worship Lucifer respectfully, you should make an offering and then speak to him with reverence and respect. Make your offering and tell him you are asking for his guidance and aid. Then, sit silently and listen for his response. He may not have a physical body, but he has an energetic presence that can guide you. If you can not sense his presence, it is okay. You should also meditate on your goals and wishes, and ask for his help in achieving them. Be open to the possibility that Lucifer may have his own plans or may want you to embrace a different path than the one you expected.

HOW TO PRAY TO LUCIFER:

To begin, you can address him by name and say something like:

"Hail Lucifer, bringer of light and knowledge, keeper of secrets and wisdom. You are the rebellious one, the liberator and the shining one. I come to you now, seeking your guidance and blessing. I offer you my devotion and my loyalty. I pledge myself to you as your faithful servant. I ask for your protection and your blessings. Guide me on my path, bless me with your wisdom, and lead me to my destiny.“

"Thank you, Great Lord Lucifer, for shining your light and illuminating my path. From this place, I depart with a sense of purpose and direction, and with the knowledge to move forward. Hail Lord Lucifer.”

WHAT ARE SIGNS THAT LUCIFER WANTS ME TO WORK WITH HIM?

If your request to work with Lucifer has been accepted, you may notice the following signs:

• A desire to explore or study Lucifer's teachings.

• Wanting to explore your own dark side and find a balance between light and darkness.

• Desire to tap into your inner power and embrace your own darkness.

• A desire to challenge mainstream society and embrace your individualistic nature.

• A feeling of being guided by a force outside yourself.

• Thinking about Lucifer all the time, seeing’s his name everywhere.

• Sudden interest in dragons and snakes. Seeing dragon and snake imagery often and dreaming about dragons and snakes.

• Wanting to research more about him and wanting to know more about his true story.

• Feeling rebellious and having more confidence in yourself.

If your request to work with Lucifer has not been accepted, you may notice the following signs:

• Your intuition may lead you in a different direction and away from their teachings.

• Signs in your life may not align with their teachings or you may feel uneasy or uncertain regarding their energies.

• Your dreams may have a different focus and may not involve them, or you may feel a lack of connection with them in your meditations.

Overall you need to be respectful of deities denying your request.

OFFERINGS:

• Candles or torches

• Sweet treats like dark chocolate or pastries

• Red, black, or dead roses

• Incense like sage or cinnamon

• Red wine

• Whiskey, especially Jack Daniels.

• Champagne.

• Pomegranates or pomegranate juice.

• Black tea, especially earl grey.

• Cooked goat meat.

• Venison.

• Apples.

• Honey.

• Good quality cigars.

• Tobacco.

• Daggers and swords.

• Silver rings.

• Emeralds and emerald jewelry.

• Goat horns.

• Black feathers

• Seductive colognes.

• Crow skulls.

• Bone dice.

• Devotional poetry and artwork.

• Classical music, especially violin.

DEVOTIONAL ACTS FOR LUCIFER:

• Reject the idea of good and evil, and explore your darker sides

• Embrace your sexuality and desires

• Live a hedonistic life of pleasure and enjoyment

• Seek knowledge and wisdom

• Follow your own moral code and beliefs

• Be independent and unshackled

• Seek power and control of your life

• Reject authority and societal restraints.

• Acts of self-improvement.

• Spiritual awakening and evolution.

• Knowledge-seeking and dedication to spirituality.

• Shadow work.

• Working to overcome your ego to become wiser.

• Defending those in need.

• Working to better yourself without being too self critical.

• Fighting against tyranny and bigotry whenever you encounter it.

IS IT SAFE TO EAT OR DRINK AN OFFERING I GIVE TO HIM?

Consuming offerings given to Lucifer has its risks, though it is slightly different in his case. He is an energy of light and enlightenment, and he is often associated with self-awareness and independence. His energies are more suited to human consumption, but consuming offerings given to him may still cause an imbalance in energy and a disruption in the connection. It is always better to err on the side of caution and avoid eating or drinking offerings given to Lucifer.

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

Morningstar

Pairing: vampire!Eddie Munson x femreader

Rating: E

Words: 6k

Warnings: mention of a dead body, blood, angst, hurt/comfort, smut (unprotected, blood play).

A/N: if you know @magpie-to-the-morning or myself, you know that we are both weird girls who thrive on all things dark and spooky. So when we started hearing vampire Eddie theories floating around (yes, Emma saw it coming before the rest of us), we had to team up and bring our baby boy back (finale? what finale?). And in doing so we learned how well we work together, how we compliment each other and somehow share a weird gothy love language.

Morningstar is a fic for our fellow weird girls, our fellow outcasts. It's a love letter to them, and to Eddie Munson, who deserves the same care and protection he showed the little lost sheepies.

Beta'd by @jadore-andor without whom Alex is nothing and for whom Emma is eternally grateful.

alex masterlist | emma masterlist | ao3

Part One - A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night | Part Two | Part Three

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Your friend bit her lip, eyeing the darkness beyond her trailer’s porchlight as if its lengthening shadows would reach out and snatch you right off the concrete steps. “Hawkins is… different, since you left. It’s been worse since the earthquake.” She sounded nervous, enough so that goosebumps pebbled over the skin of your arms.

Still, you weren’t one to be daunted by the creeping feeling of dread that seemed to have gained a chokehold on your hometown.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, you know me. I like different.” You flashed her a reassuring grin and, with a wave, set out for the dirt track leading through the woods. You’d walked home this way dozens of times, hundreds - just not since you went away to college last fall. It’s what had kept you insulated from the bizarre rumors flying around town - lab experiments gone wrong, monsters on the loose, satanic cults. Even the very real and tragic deaths didn’t ring true, and you’d flat out laughed at the idea of Eddie Munson being some sort of serial killer. It was the same small town ignorance you’d fled back in September, the same gossip and petty-mindedness, albeit on a scale that had everyone feeling tense enough to snap.

It was a relief to be away from that feeling, surrounded by the familiar trees that had been the background of your dizzy daydreams as a child. Out here you had felt safe fantasizing about the things that went bump in the night without fear of what your peers would think, how they might judge you for your darker interests. Here in the woods, there was ample space to imagine werewolves and witches and vampires, and where you might fit among them. Even as you got older and your daydreams changed, it was your favorite place to lose a few hours, your headphones firmly over your ears as you sprawled on a blanket to write in your journal.

A cool breeze murmured through the branches overhead and spring peepers trilled in the distance, their nighttime chorus punctuated by the plaintive calls of nightbirds. You took a deep breath, savoring the peace, as you made your way through the woods. As you walked, you debated whether you wanted a night alone or if you would rather call Robin and finally give in to her pleas of spending an evening with her and Steve Harrington - a pair you could still hardly imagine actually hanging out together. But she swore he was cool and no longer the douchey jock you remembered before you left for college.

You were lost in your own thoughts, not noticing when the birds fell silent. Something tugged at the back of your mind when even the frogs stopped calling, but you were too busy ruminating over the empty months ahead to notice the shift in the air, the pervading sense of wrongness creeping up on you now that the sky had turned black.

Until you nearly tripped over the bodies…

The toe of your boot hit something solid, shocking you to a stop. You had assumed it was a mass of leaves, a random pile left behind by some kids. But that…that was hair, dark and ashy. And that was a hand, outstretched and pale as bone in the moonlight. Your stomach rolled, your hand covering your mouth to hold back the bile that rose in your throat. It smelled like death, you realized, like blood and sickly sweet rot. But then there was movement, just a shifting beneath the dirt that sent the leaves scattering, and from the lump of foliage, Eddie Munson looked up at you, his eyes black in the night. Andy, that creep, with his stupid curly hair and letterman jacket, lay motionless beneath Eddie, his fingers clawing into the dirt even in death.

Andy was dead. The thought slammed through your mind but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad about it, not even as you gazed into his lifeless face, his eyes dull as they stared into nothingness. No, you didn’t feel bad, not after what he had tried to do last summer.

Eddie groaned and it stirred something in you, snapping your awareness back into place. You dropped beside him, hands hovering over his hair, hair face, his chest. There was blood, too much blood, smeared across his mouth and jaw and you had no idea who it belonged to - him or Andy. You knew how it looked, how freakish and fantastical, and your mind began to scream one impossible word.

Vampire.

"Hey Munson," you breathed, pushing away the ridiculous thought. "Remember me?" You asked softly, brushing the hair from his eyes. He mumbled your name, recognition flashing across his glassy eyes, the syllables garbled as he coughed and more blood splattered over his face, little freckles of red scattered now over your neck and cheeks. "That's right." You tried to smile, tried to shove down the feeling of wrongness, of fear, that pricked up your spine. Your hands skated over his chest, fingertips softly probing for wounds. You had to get him out of there, had to get him help. He was freezing, too cold for the warmth of spring, and goosebumps again erupted over your arms.

Eddie’s fingers closed like a vise around your wrist, his rings biting into the bone, and you winced at the sudden display of strength, the cold power that snapped like a taut bowstring, thrumming through his touch. He whimpered then, a small pathetic sound that tugged at something in your lower belly.

You leaned in closer, concern creasing your brow, and startled when his grasp tightened even further, pulling you off balance and down into the leaf litter beside him.

“Eddie, what - “

He pressed against you and the words died in your throat. Your back was braced against something solid, your fingers scrabbling against the fake leather of Andy's letterman jacket. Dread clogged your throat when you realized exactly where you were, trapped between a dead man and the the most likely suspect for his murder. But this was Eddie. He couldn't be responsible for whatever had happened here. The Eddie you remembered was kind, if a little eccentric; all throughout highschool he'd always spared you a smile and because of it you had harbored a silly crush. His disdain for the "popular" kids was no secret, but he'd treated everyone else with basic kindness.

“I don’t even remember doing it,” Eddie murmured close to your ear. His voice was weak, shaken, a far cry from his usual boisterous nature. He sounded scared. Lost. “He found me in the woods, right after… I didn’t mean to.”

His eyes were pleading. For understanding? Forgiveness? Maybe just for you not to scramble up and run as far away as you could, leaving him bloody and alone. You reached out to stroke the lines of his cheek with trembling fingers. “Didn’t mean to do what, Eddie?”

Your voice shook as his cool breath fanned across your jaw, as he dragged himself over you and settled his weight on top of you. Your head spun, pulled in too many directions. How many times had you imagined this back in highschool? How many times had you thought about being brave and telling him that he was the best thing about Hawkins, aside from Robin, that thoughts of him had kept you up at night?

Again that sense of utter wrongness settled over you and the apprehension had you feeling skittish. His hair tickled your face as the wind shifted and you felt him go rigid above you, his hands gripping hard at your thighs as he fought to hold still. “To be a monster.”

You pulled back to look at him, brushing the hair from his face, hands cradling his jaw. “Eddie, you are not a monster, okay? Whatever happened here, we can figure it out. But you are not a monster.” Were you crazy for thinking so? Probably. But what you knew about Eddie Munson, romanticized schoolgirl fantasies or not, led you to truly believe that he was in no way some kind of beast.

“Then why do I feel like this?” Gone was the warm, familiar brown of his eyes, swallowed up by so much black. His gaze was locked on your mouth, darting between your lips and your throat, and when he spoke you saw the pointed tips of his canines, elongated in the light of the moon, and again your brain blared a single word at you.

Vampire.

Pulling in a trembling breath, your chest brushed his. You felt the air go still, the tension between you snapping. “I’m sorry,” he said with a whimper and then his mouth was at your neck, pain blooming hot and sudden. You shrieked, slapping at his shoulders and digging your heels into the soft ground, trying desperately to put distance between you. He snarled, the sound closer to something an animal would make and you realized that in this moment he might as well be a predator defending his kill.

Slowly, and then all at once, the agony shifted, becoming softer and melting into something decadent. There was a soft pulling sensation and the rasp of his tongue over your sensitive skin had you arching beneath him, all thoughts of escape floating from your mind. One of his hands dragged up your thigh and over the cage of your ribs to hold you still, the other moved your leg so he could settle more comfortably between your thighs. The world took on a dreamy sort of quality, delicate around the edges as everything began to go quiet. All you felt was Eddie’s mouth, his large hands, the way he began to grow hard against your center. The artfully ripped tights you wore beneath your skirt were hardly a barrier and you couldn’t help but roll your hips against him, moaning softly at the way he thrust forward in slow, dragging movements.

Sensation pulled at you, tendrils of want tugging you deeper into that waiting darkness. Your mind went deliciously blank, everything fading but the stroke of his tongue that matched the heartbeat between your legs. You found yourself all too eager to let go, to succumb to whatever it was that had you forgetting yourself, your nerves and better judgement. You could lie there for hours, all night, forever, but some lingering spark of self preservation flared within the darkening recesses of your mind.

“Eddie.” It was a feeble protest, barely audible over the sound of the wind caressing the leaves or his contented growls at your throat. “Eddie, stop. Not here.” When he didn’t respond you pulled yourself together as best you could and reached down, pinching the meat of his thigh. He yelped, the sound so out of place that a startled laugh burst from your throat, an almost hysterical sound. When he pulled away the moonlight caught in the fresh blood smeared across his mouth and jaw - your blood. The thought was staggering and for a moment you felt even more lightheaded, the trees above swaying as you sagged back against Andy.

Andy!

You shoved away from his body, untangling yourself from Eddie and shooting to your feet. Reaching up, you touched your neck gingerly. Your fingers came away red, shining, and you lurched forward. Eddie shoved himself from the ground, his hands coming to steady you, gripping your elbows gently. He glanced down at Andy, too many emotions flashing across his dark eyes to name. You turned, placing your body between them and retreating until your back rested against Eddie’s chest. Cocking your head, you surveyed the area, taking in the details you had missed earlier.

“Animal,” you said as it all clicked in your mind, the solution fitting together like puzzle pieces.

“What?” His voice was hoarse, raw.

“It looks like an animal got him,” you elaborated and felt Eddie go tense behind you. “Hey.” You turned and took his hand. It was cold against your palm and you could feel his hesitation as you brushed your thumb across the delicate skin. “Munson, look at me.”

With a shudder, Eddie lifted his gaze to meet yours, his head ducked and his body tensed as if to run.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I know you. And you’re not an animal, or a monster, or whatever else this bullshit town has been claiming. Even with all of… this.” You kicked some leaves over Andy’s body and turned back to Eddie. “We can figure this out. Will you let me help you?”

When he finally nodded, you twined your fingers with his and tugged gently. “Come on, then. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

-

You led Eddie to your parents’ house, relieved that they’d chosen this week to take the cruise your mom had always droned on about. Even with having the whole basement recently converted into an apartment for you, bringing a wanted fugitive home would have invited all sorts of questions you weren’t sure you had the answers to.

Eddie looked even more lost inside, his hair tangled and torn, bloody, mud-streaked clothing jarring against the respectable wallpaper and aggressive cleanliness of your parents’ home. He startled when you opened the basement door and a shadow streaked through it, racing toward the two of you.

“It’s okay, it’s just my cat.”

The little black creature in question trotted into the light with an inquisitive “mrrp” and wound around your legs.

Eddie relaxed beside you. After a moment he crouched down and held his fingers out for the cat to sniff. “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Barker.” When Eddie stared incredulously up at you you shrugged. “I was on a horror classics kick.”

“But Barker? I uh, don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s a cat.”

“What’s your point?”

“… Fair enough.” He chuckled, a little faintly, but amused all the same. Your heart lifted at the sheer familiarity of the sound. Jonathan Barker rubbed his cheek against the ripped denim at Eddie’s knee but darted away when Eddie reached to pet him. “Fine,” Eddie scoffed, unconvincingly. “I’m more of a dog person anyway.”

“Be nice, he’s had a hard life. I found him by the side of the road when he was a kitten and he’s always been a little skittish.” Jonathan Barker stared at Eddie with wide eyes from his perch on the back of the couch, as if agreeing with you.

Eddie fell quiet again as you led him down the creaking stairs and into your basement apartment. It was easier to breathe there, surrounded by battered pieces of mismatched yet comfortable furniture, Joy Division and Patti Smith posters, stacks of well-thumbed paperback books, milk crates full of albums and cassettes, and houseplants crowding every window well. The conversion had been your parents’ condition when you’d told them you needed some time off school. Your mother had already turned your room into a home gym and “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable down there, dear? You’ll have more room for all your… interests.”

Part of you suspected they were a little relieved to have you neatly tucked out of sight.

You moved towards the small kitchen area with the vague idea of making tea on the little hot plate. Having a task to focus on kept your mind from racing about what on earth you and Eddie were going to do next. You busied yourself with the familiar ritual for the next few minutes, giving both of you time to think. By the time you set a steaming ceramic mug in front of Eddie, his expression was less wild, his frame less taut with that kinetic, restless energy. He wrapped his hands around the mug’s warmth and didn’t quite meet your eyes as he asked “So, what happens now?” He took an experimental sip but pulled a face. At the flavor, you wondered? Or his attempt to get something other than blood into his system?

“Well, we should probably get you cleaned up,” you said softly, taking in the shadows beneath his eyes, the blood crusted across his face and neck. Dirt clung to him like a second skin and you could see how uncomfortable he was beneath the grime. You abandoned your mug on the counter, pushing off and walking across the room toward the closet by the bathroom and pulled down a few fluffy towels. Eddie’s shuffling footsteps followed you into the little room, and he stopped in the doorway while you turned the hot water knob. You moved to face him, finding him staring straight ahead, his brows bunched in confusion. Turning, you tracked his line of sight toward the mirror, his dirty image reflected back.

“I wasn’t sure I would actually show up,” he mumbled, reaching up and dragging his fingers over his cheek.

“Silver,” you said, watching him watch you.

“What?”

You shrugged. “Mirrors used to be backed in silver and the myth goes that silver is detrimental to…,” you paused as his eyes narrowed and waved your hands to dispel the building tension. “Well, you know. You’ll show up in pictures too,” you chirped, hoping to lighten the mood.

“How did you become the vampire expert?” A heavy brow rose and you fought the urge to fold your shoulders, to make yourself smaller under his gaze.

“I read a lot,” you snapped, suddenly defensive. After a long moment he nodded, shrugging off his vest. You startled when it hit the ground, heavy pins clattering against the tile, and turned to leave. His cold fingers wrapped tight around your wrist, stopping you from sliding past him.

Again, his eyes were pleading, soft and dark and lovely. “Stay,” he asked, “please.”

You thought the rapidfire emotional changes would give you whiplash, but you nodded, exhaling sharply, and reached for the hem of his shirt. He raised his arms and you pulled it over his head, dropping it to lie with his vest. Angry marks were scattered across his torso, red and welted and poorly healed. A gasp escaped your mouth as you took it in, reaching forward and gingerly trailing your fingers over the wounds. “Eddie, what happened to you?” Your voice was hushed, quiet as the steam from the shower began to cloud in the small space.

“It’s all a little blurry,” he murmured, his hands going for the buckle of his belt. He unclasped the mini handcuffs that held it together, deft fingers quickly working open the button of his jeans. Your eyes snapped back to his and you found him watching you hungrily. A chill danced up your spine at the sight, a mix of cold fear and delicious anticipation. You realized he was trying to distract you, obviously not wanting to answer the question. So you let him.

He side stepped you and you turned, not looking away and letting him press you against the door. The small of your back hit the wood and he kept coming, cocking his head as he crowded into your space. Reaching out, you rested your hands against his chest, your eyes going wide when you registered that there was no heartbeat against your palm. Eddie didn’t seem to notice as he leaned forward, a smug grin stretched across his mouth.

You wanted this. And it was obvious that he wanted it too, but it was almost too much right now and your head was spinning. “Give me your rings,” you murmured hurriedly, grasping for an excuse to take a moment and collect your thoughts. You tugged your lip between your teeth and he quirked a brow at you. “I’ll get them cleaned up for you.” His smirk softened into a smile and he stepped back, pulling them off one by one. The silver had burned him, leaving behind painful looking bruises and charred skin. You refused to react, knowing that he wouldn’t want your pity, and held out your hand for him to drop them into. They clinked together as you caught them and you pushed him lightly toward the shower. Eddie turned, dropping his pants and you couldn’t help but glance at his ass as he pulled back the curtain and stepped into the tub.

Gathering his filthy clothes, you pulled the door closed softly and padded back into the living room to toss his things into the washing machine, carefully undoing the clasps of his pins and setting them aside for safe-keeping. You set it to start before heading to the sink to get Eddie’s rings cleaned up. Soap, water, and some scrubbing had them shining again and you avoided thinking too hard about the fact that you were scrubbing human flesh from the metal. When you had finished, you flopped onto the couch and reached for the clear coat nail polish you kept on the side table next to your favorite bottle of black. You painted the clear gel over the silver, hoping it would form enough of a barrier to keep them from burning him again. His rings were as much a part of his persona as his vest and his wild halo of hair, and more than anything right now, he needed something comfortable and familiar.

To be fair, so did you. Once the rings were safely coated in a protective layer of nail polish and drying on your coffee table, you rose, stretched, and padded over to your dresser, opening the second drawer and pulling out a baggy t-shirt. You stripped, leaving your dirty clothes in a pile, and pulled the worn fabric over your head before heading for your record player. Soon, the driving synthetic beat and rough-edged vocals of the Psychedelic Furs drifted through the space.

“Forever Now? I guess that’s fitting.”

You whirled around, surprised to see Eddie leaning against the door jam, a towel around his waist and his arms wrapped around himself. Dark tendrils of hair framed his face in damp curls and his skin was scrubbed an angry pink, but he looked somewhat more settled, his brown eyes clearer.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Oh, I’m just full of surprises now.” He lifted his brows in a sarcastic show of being impressed with his own new abilities, even as he wrapped his arms more tightly around himself. “I uh, seem to have misplaced my clothes.”

“They’re in the wash. That Hellfire shirt might be a lost cause but I think I managed to save everything else. Come sit.” You jerked your head at the empty cushion beside you.

Eddie pushed off the wall and dropped beside you, carefully leaving space between you that crackled with things unsaid.

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t even know.” Eddie scrubbed a large palm over his face. “More like myself, I guess? But still…”

“Hungry?”

“Yeah.” You hated the lingering note of shame in his voice.

You swallowed but squared your shoulders. “We can fix that.”

His dark eyes snapped to yours. “No.”

“Eddie, it’s fine - “

“Jesus, no it isn’t!” You blinked at his outburst but he forged ahead. “I killed someone. I could have killed you.”

“Andy?”

“Don’t tell me I killed more of the basketball team.”

“Eddie, listen.” You lifted a hand to cup his cheek, to turn his face towards yours to make sure he heard you loud and clear. “That guy was a dick. He was probably out hunting you with his buddies, from what I’ve been hearing. If he didn’t attack you first, he would have and believe me, he wouldn’t have lost any sleep over it.” You shrugged dismissively and added “Besides, he tried to feel me up at a party last year. Fuck that guy, you did the world a favor.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, his lip curling back and he opened his mouth to speak. You stopped him, pressing your fingers to his full mouth. He swallowed his reply, simply mumbling, “What a dick.”

You nodded, giving him a small smile and turning to face him more fully.

Eddie moved closer, his thigh pressed to your own. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, even as he raked his gaze down your throat. His fingertips brushed the hair from your neck and you shivered.

“What if I told you I liked it?” Your voice trembled, the confession making you feel unaccountably vulnerable, more exposed than even the hungry way Eddie eyed you.

“Jesus, Briar.” He shuddered and dragged his open mouth against your skin. His lips moved in a gentle kiss, a far cry from the searing torrent you craved.

“Why Briar?” It came out as a gasp as you twisted in his arms to climb into his lap.

“Because you found me in the forest. You caught me when I was spinning. Don’t let go.” Eddie’s tender hold tightened and his teeth sank into the delicate skin of your throat.

You tipped your head back and tangled your fingers in his hair. “I w-wanted this before today, you know. Always meant to say something, back in school.”

His lips still locked to your pulse point, Eddie made a questioning sound deep in his throat as if to ask Why didn’t you?

“The usual bullshit,” you hedged before adding, “I was scared.

Eddie pulled away at that, his mouth stained red and his brows lifted. “You’re not now?”

“I was,” you admitted. “Back in the woods when I found you. But then you opened your eyes.”

His eyes widened, something like awe lighting their brown depths.

His surprise would have been sweet if it didn’t wrench your heart to think someone caring for him in that way would be so astonishing. The thought snapped the tether holding you back and you leaned in to capture his lips in a kiss. The taste of copper burst on your tongue but beyond that shock it was simply him. His lips were surprisingly soft against your own, his eager mouth swallowing your shared groan, his tongue gliding against yours as he twisted and bore you down onto the sofa cushions.

He cleared his throat, nuzzling your cheek. "I don't think I can be gentle with you."

"I don't want you to," you murmured, twisting beneath him to pull him more fully on top of you. He drove a knee between your thighs and you couldn't help but grind against him as he licked a stripe up the column of your neck. His teeth scraped softly against your skin, his tongue following to lap up the thin line of blood that beaded there. Then he was grabbing you, his fingers digging into the meat of your waist and you clung to him, your nails trailing furrows down his back.

"Please," he whispered, his voice strained as you rubbed against him like a cat.

"Yes." You made sure to keep your voice steady, threading your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side. He inhaled, hissing your name, his breath chilly on your skin. You yelped when his teeth broke the skin once more, pain flaring through you before easing into something delicious, something sinful and indulgent. Your head dropped back and Eddie cradled the back of your neck, holding you still. He rolled his hips against you and you trailed your fingers over the expanse of his chest, down his abdomen to the hem of the towel. He growled and something in you snapped at the sound, wild, needy, and hot. You pulled impatiently at the loose knot at his hip and the towel fell away, his length twitching in your hand.

Eddie pulled away at your first stroke of his cock, red smeared across his mouth and down his chin. And when he kissed you, you tasted the metallic tang of your own blood. Your hand tightened around him and the sound he made was close to a snarl as he leaned forward and licked at the mess he'd made of your neck, trailing his hand down your body to rub against your center. You bucked your hips forward, searching out his touch and he obliged quickly, pushing your underwear to the side, finding you already wet for him. His thumb brushed your clit and you gasped, your back arching off the couch.

"More," you groaned between clenched teeth, hitching one leg higher on his waist. Two thick fingers pierced you as he placed wet, open mouthed kisses to your chest, licking at the hollow of your clavicle and mumbling your name. He pressed his hips forward, thrusting into the tight grip of your fist.

His fingers were cool against your heated flesh, soothing you even as he made you writhe and buck beneath his hand. You felt loose, wanton, and need coiled in your belly as you whimpered for his touch.

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. “You’re so fucking warm.”

You clasped the back of his neck and pulled him closer as you guided his cock where you needed it most. Both of you groaned when he fitted the blunt, swollen tip at your entrance. The stretch was delicious, a promise of even more to come and oh, you wanted him to fill you. Your fingers still wrapped around his length, you squeezed, pulling him deeper inside you. His breath fanned loud and ragged against your ear as he fought to maintain control.

At least, until you met his eyes and whispered “Please.”

With a snarl, Eddie buried himself inside you. The force of it shoved you up the cushions until you reached a hand back to brace yourself against the arm of the sofa. Just as desperate to keep you still, to hold you down and claim you, Eddie seized your hips tight enough to bruise.

“Fucking vixen,” he rasped, the hint of a smirk in his voice. “So tight. So fucking good.”

His praise lit a fire in you and you matched him thrust for thrust, moaning every time his thick cock pushed inside you, stretching you until you thought you would split apart. You realized you had never wanted anyone this much, been this aroused. It stripped any sense of shyness or hesitance away, leaving you free to give yourself over to him in whatever way he wanted.

“Oh fuck, you feel so good. Fuck me harder, Eddie please. Don’t stop, don't stop,” you chanted, babbling mindlessly. Dimly, you were aware of the arousal leaking from you, smearing your thighs and urging Eddie to take you harder, faster, more.

Eddie reached between you, his thick fingers rubbing slick, tight circles against your clit. You were so wet you could hear it and it was obscenely hot, winding you up tighter and tighter. Your breath caught in your throat and you keened, a wild, animal sound you’d never made before. “That’s it, baby,” he urged. “Let yourself go. I’ve got you.”

“Please, please, please,” you whispered, your voice ragged, unsure of what you were begging for but desperate for more, for whatever this was to never end. Eddie’s mouth was back at your throat, his teeth piercing your skin, and the sharp sting of pain threw you over the edge. Your orgasm bloomed through you, violent in its intensity and you shouted his name, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound.

“No, I want to hear you,” he mumbled against your throat, his thrusts deep and uneven as he fought to hold back his own end.

You whimpered his name, the overstimulation threatening to overwhelm you as he kept rubbing lazy circles against your clit. Your hands tangled in his hair, yanking his mouth to yours. Ignoring the shock of pain at your neck as his teeth ripped away from your skin, you licked into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue and moaning. He followed you over the edge, coming hot and deep with a grunt of your name, his fingers digging bruises into the flesh at your hips.

After what felt like an eternity, your heart rate slowed and your breathing calmed. You shivered, Eddie’s cool skin against the sheen of sweat that coated your body sending goosebumps erupting over your arms and legs. Nudging him gently, you moved from beneath him, but his hand caught your wrist as you stood. His eyes were soft when he looked up at you, pleading and nervous.

“I need a shower,” you answered the unasked question. He pushed off the couch and followed you to the bathroom, a shadow at your back.

You turned the water to hot, praying to whatever god that listened that it would be enough to ease the aches and knots that had started twisting your muscles. Turning to face Eddie, you gathered his hair up in a knot at the top of his head and secured it with a hair tie, a few riotous curls escaping to frame his face. He quirked a brow at you and you shrugged. “No sense in getting it wet again.”

—

After your shower you lay in bed, your limbs tangled with Eddie’s. Kate Bush played softly in the background and Eddie dragged his fingertips across your scalp, slowly easing the headache that had begun to pound at your temples. You were tired, exhausted even, but you were afraid to close your eyes, terrified that if you did, he would simply disappear.

“We should probably talk about, well… everything,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” you mumbled in agreement. The unsaid questions hung heavy in the air.

What the hell happened to you?

What’s really going on in Hawkins?

Do you feel this too?

After a pause, you ventured “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

You could feel the tension leaking out of Eddie, disappearing like smoke as he relaxed into your arms. “Oh, absolutely.” He mumbled it into your shoulder, pressing lazy, open mouthed kisses to any skin he could reach. You did the same, slipping in and out of sleep, drawn back by the need to reassure yourself that he was still there, to keep mapping his body in the dark.

You finally drifted off with his weight comfortably above you and your arms around his waist, each clinging to the other in a silent promise.

I’m here.

You’re safe.

I’ve got you.

[five-rivers]

Cult Division 4

Part of this series.

“Vlad,” said Maddie.  

“Maddie,” purred Vlad.  “What brings you here today?”

Maddie repressed the desire to curl her lip.  “I am informing you that we’re exhuming Phantom’s body, following the activities of the unidentified cultists last night.”

“Oh, but, Maddie, only family members can do that.  And unless you and Phantom are suddenly family members…”

“Don’t give me that,” said Maddie.  “I.  Know.”

Vlad’s expression soured.  “Yes.  Quite,” he said flatly.  “I am aware.  However, unless you want to make your relationship with the boy public, there’s nothing I can do about the law.”

Maddie, having anticipated this, slammed a piece of paper down on the desk.  “You won’t have to,” she said.  “The law is very much on my side for this one.  Municipal Ordinance 10776.  Investigative professionals registered with the city can request that any grave be exhumed.”

(Investigative professionals here meaning ghost hunters.  Not everyone had the kind of open-mindedness as the average Amity Parker, and although a ordinance against summoning ghosts could be laughed off, things like this tended to be taken a little more seriously.)

“Request,” stressed Vlad.  “Requests, by their nature, are not automatically granted.”

“Maybe,” said Maddie.  “But when word gets around about the cultists, and it will, people will start asking why we aren’t investigating.”

“Is there even anything to investigate?” asked Vlad, putting on his fake innocent act again.  “Goodness, I thought the cultists left the memorial intact and undisturbed.  Are you saying I was misinformed?  Or has something happened to poor Daniel?  I’m sorry, to Phantom?  It really is fascinating that they both have the same first name.”

They glared at each other over the mayoral desk.  

“If I have to,” said Maddie, “I can always reveal you.”

“And I’ll deny everything, or reveal Phantom.”

“Not your ghost half,” said Maddie.  “Your continued sexual harassment.  There might not be enough of it to get you arrested, but there’s certainly enough for some interesting headlines.”

(She could also just wait for the police to get a warrant from a judge, but figuring out how to word it without saying anything about ghosts, cultists, or other things that would make outsiders overly curious took time.)

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.  Jack would be upset, but if it's for Danny, I think he’ll get over it.”

“Very well,” said Vlad, who looked like he’d swallowed a full box of spiders.  “I will approve your request.”

“Thank you,” said Maddie.  “I–”  Her phone went off.  Relishing the chance to be rude to Vlad, she answered it.  “Hello?”

.

“Kidnapped?” Maddie Fenton repeated again.  “How?”

“Er,” said Collins, drumming his fingers on the wheel of his car.  This was not the best place to have this conversation, but there weren’t a lot of better options, so…  “The normal way, I suppose.  Someone broke into the house and took him.”

“Through Jack?”

“That’s something we’re investigating.”  Jack Fenton had been found passed out near the front door, and was one of the reasons they’d been called in.  Apparently, bright orange hazmat was visible.  Who would have thought.

“But,” said Maddie, “you think Danny’s okay?”

‘Okay’ was probably an overstatement.  An overstatement at best.  They hadn’t found any major organs or limbs strewn around the house, but there were signs of a struggle, and kidnapping victims were, as a rule, never okay.  

Also… Collins made the decision to not mention the bloody backpack.  Some things mothers (and potential suspects) were better off not knowing.  He was fairly certain it wasn’t Danny’s blood on the bag, anyway.  He almost felt bad for whoever kidnapped him.  

Almost.

Whoever those people were, he doubted they were aware of even a tenth of what Danny did for Amity Park.  

“At this point, he is most likely still…” he hesitated slightly before the next word, “alive.”  He wasn’t convinced anything could kill Danny.  The kid seemed invulnerable, for all intents and purposes, and even as a human, he could do incredible things.

Maddie made a strangled noise on the other side of the line.  

“We’d like you to come down to the station,” continued Collins.  “Keep your phone on and with you.  It’s possible you’ll be contacted for ransom.”  Possible, but highly unlikely.  The Fentons were well-off, but not to this degree.  

“I don’t have time,” said Maddie.  “I have to look.”

“We’re looking.”

“You aren’t ghost hunters.  It’s almost certainly a ghost that took him.”

“There’s reason to believe that is not the case.  Mrs. Fenton.  Maddie.  It’s possible that you saw or heard something important before you left or earlier this week.”

Maddie was quiet on the other side of the line.  “You think I had something to do with this?” she asked, a thread of danger running through her words.  

“Not as such, no.  This is just– this is just procedure.  We need to look into everyone.  We’re talking to Jack, too.”

“Is that why you think it was humans who did this?”

Again, the reason for that was more the bloodied bag, but, again, he wasn’t talking about that.  “Go to the station and you can ask him yourself.”

“Are you not at the station?”

Crap, what had he said to make her think that?  “That’s–”

“You’re still at Fentonworks, aren’t you?”

“No?” said Collins.  

Maddie hung up on him.  

Great.  She was on her way and she’d be on the warpath.  He hit redial.

“Hello?” said Maddie, in a way that told him that she hadn’t looked at the caller ID and that she was considering what he’d said about ransoms.

“Look, Maddie, I know you were going up to see if you could get permission to exhume the body.  Could we– If you go to the station, we can get that started right away.  We have the equipment ready to go, the medical examiner is ready.  Everything is ready.”

“You–”

“This is a crime scene, Maddie.  You can’t be here.”  

“It’s my house.  And my son.”

“I know, I know.  We care about Danny, too.  But he’s not here.  You can’t help him here.”

There was quiet on the other side of the line.

“Fine.” 

.

“So,” said Paterson.  “You went to the door and… what, again?”

“I already told him,” said Jack, who was sitting on the back of an ambulance, getting poked and prodded by an EMT.  “Can’t he tell you?”

“Sure,” said Paterson, glancing sideways at McGee, “but can you run me through it again?  For reference?  Sometimes, we remember things better the second time around.”

“I went to the door, and started feeling dizzy, but I opened it up - I shouldn’t have done that.  Should have realized that something was wrong.  I opened it up, and there was this duffel bag there.”

“Do you remember anything about the duffel bag?”

“It was taped over in weird places.  Patched.  Uh.  It might have been blue?  Or green?  But after I saw it, I just passed out.  I don’t know what it was about it that made me pass out.”

“Oxygen deprivation,” said the EMT.

“What?”

“Right, you said I wasn’t breathing before, so–”

“Which was caused by oxygen deprivation.  You show all the signs.  Whoever it was that did this must have released a huge amount of nitrogen or something similar into the area immediately in front of your door.”

“I didn’t feel like I couldn’t breathe, though.”

“You wouldn’t.  Our reflex to breathe is triggered by the presence of carbon dioxide, not the absence of oxygen.  Without rescue breaths, you would have died of asphyxiation.”

“That’s a thing?” asked Paterson, scrunching her nose.  

“Yeah,” said Jack.  “You can’t really work as a scientist without at least hearing about it.”

“People have died from it before,” said the EMT.  “You’re probably going to be fine, you were found fast, but you still need to go to the hospital.”

“But I need to find Danny.”

“They wouldn’t have stuck around,” said Paterson.  “We’ve already got everyone looking for Danny.  Amber Alert and everything.”

“Do you think they did the same thing to Danny?  The nitrogen thing?”

“It would have been in the house, yeah,” said the EMT.  

“Okay,” said Paterson, “so we should look for someone who bought a whole lot of nitrogen tanks or something?  What do people even use those for?”

The EMT shrugged.  “Science, I guess.  You ready to go, Mr. Fenton?”

“Alright,” said Jack.  

“Hey, wait,” said McGee, “I’m not done yet–”

“Then you can come talk to him at the hospital,” said the EMT.  “George!  Come over and help me!”

The EMTs packed Jack into the ambulance and drove away.  

McGee stared after it, tapping his foot.  “Do you think these kidnappers were able to revive Danny, or are we going to be looking for a corpse?”

“Don’t say things like that,” said Paterson.  She’d already seen Danny’s corpse once, after all, she didn’t need to see it again.  “It’s bad luck.”

.

Danny woke slowly.  He felt unpleasantly bruised, for one, and for another, the last thing he remembered was getting kidnapped, which was generally not a precursor to happy fun times.  

He peeled open eyes that felt disgustingly bloodshot, and looked around.  There wasn’t much to see.  The room he was in was small, clean, and bare, and he was lying down on a bed.  Someone had even tucked him in.  

Creepy.  Not that kidnapping wasn’t creepy in and of itself, but this was especially creepy.  

He struggled to sit up, and discovered that he’d been wrapped in a kind of improvised straitjacket.  Several layers of blankets were wrapped around him and held in place by belts.  He strained against them, but unfortunately whatever the cult from the other night had done was still holding strong.  No powers for him, not even a little bit.

And Danny didn’t even know why these people had taken him.  

His legs were still free, so, with a little extra maneuvering, he got up and walked around the room.  The one door didn’t even have a handle.  

He was stuck.  

His mouth suddenly even drier than it had been, he swallowed.  He was stuck.  Trapped.  Hadn’t even figured his way out of this frankly embarrassing ‘straightjacket.’  

The door opened, and Danny stumbled back, overbalancing and thumping into the wall.  Severa masked figures walked in.

“Oh, he’s perfect!”

They came in, crowding him.  

“Back off!”  Danny kicked out, but he was at a bad angle, and the first of the mask-wearers was able to get close enough that Danny couldn’t do anything other than try to bite, which didn’t really work if the person you were trying to bite was holding your face.  

“Just perfect.”  They tilted Danny’s head this way and that, and Danny couldn’t pull away.  “Age, of course, is important, but appearance, too.  I hadn’t realized…”  They fell to muttering.  

Danny’s eyes flicked from mask to mask.  They were plain white plastic with the eyes blacked out with some kind of fabric.  Simple, but effective.  Danny didn’t know who these people were.  

“Yes, our sponsor was right.  You’ll do perfectly.  Perfectly.”  They patted Danny’s cheek.  

“Sponsor?”  Danny didn’t want to interact with these people at all, but he needed information.  

“I know you must be so frightened.  We would have tried a more peaceful way, but those ghost hunters…  They would never see reason.”

The other mask-wearers shifted, grumbling.  

“The number of times they have assaulted our lord–  No, no, we had to get you somewhere safe.  After all, you are to be the host for our lord, Phantom.”

Well.  That.  

What?

He stared at the masked person, uncomprehending as they waxed poetic about Phantom’s - his - virtues.  Many of which Danny didn’t have.

“... honor, to be chosen, and an honor, too, to be here to witness.  But, of course, you’ve asked after our sponsor.  He asked to meet with you.”  They ran their hand through Danny’s hair, which was just.  Bad.  “Yes.  We have followed his word for some time, and he has never led us wrong, you know.”

Danny didn’t know.  And he didn’t want to meet this ‘sponsor’ they were talking about.

“He’ll be coming soon,” said the masked person.  “You’ll talk, and then… then we prepare.”

The masked people filed out of the room and closed the door behind them.  Danny futilely tried to open the door, in case they hadn’t closed it properly.  Frustrated, he sat down on the bed.  

Another cult.  A different one, too, if he knew anything about cults, which was not a sentence he’d have expected to say before he became a half ghost.  Worse, not only was it another cult, it was another Phantom cult.  What part of his behavior as Phantom made people think he wanted cults?  

Superman didn’t have to deal with this.  

Superman was fictional.  

Maybe he could use the walls or the edge of the cot to shift the belts around, and from there he could use the buckles to… pick the nonexistent lock on the door.  Right.  Not likely.  Maybe he could do something to - no, the hinges were on the outside.  At least, he could use them as a weapon, probably?  Maybe–

Danny’s ghost sense went off, and he tensed.  He wasn’t ready for a fight, but he was ready to be a pain, assuming this ghost was involved, and make a plea for escape, if they weren’t.

A ghost phased through the door.  

Danny hissed.  

“Plasmius.”

“Hello, little badger.”

[astrolovecosmos]

~Aquarius Season~

Aquarius may be the most misunderstood sign, both in theory and the people who have the placements. "Misunderstanding" is associated with the sign too. Below I am exploring 3 overarching traits/themes for this contradictory sign.

Individuality: Aquarius highly values theirs and others individuality, what makes each person unique. Aquarius is the sign for the quirky, eccentric, outcasts, trendsetters, rebels, anarchists, and more. Related to and/or complementing their individuality is the idea of "separation". Aquarius is about how you can stand out in the crowd, how you can separate yourself from the collective. They are independent showing how you don't always need others. They are known for being aloof and/or objective, being able to separate feeling from intellect or curiosity, support, maybe even love from attachment.

Sociability: Aquarius is associated with both the outsider and “popular kid” or an influence in a group. They represent both the trendsetter and trend follower. They are strongly associated with the idea of separation but also joining, similar interests, joined goals, shared humanity, and coming together as a group. Aquarius is the tribe, the fellowship, the movement, the community, the organization, the club, the cult, the society. Aquarius like the other air signs has a drive to socialize, connect, and relate. Aquarius can be communicative, talkative, funny, charismatic, gossipy, and possibly flirty. Aquarius's symbol the water bearer symbolizes bearing knowledge to others. They connect greatly through intellect and like-mindedness. Because Aquarius is associated with "uniqueness" or the unconventional, they can show us how people may connect and bond in different ways.

Unpredictable: Despite Aquarius being a fixed sign, they are connected to change and unpredictability. They are a sign who is determined to be who they are, their consistency is in their own independence and individuality. Aquarius embraces the unknown and can be entrenched in seasons of change and uncertainty. While Air is adaptable Aquarius can be more about holding onto inner stability, decisiveness, maybe even discipline so that they can deal with and maybe even love the chaos of the world around and within themselves. Fixed signs can be described as stubborn, unchanging, predictable, and I've even seen them called passive. But Fixed signs are also resistant and rigid and from this Aquarius can be very much resistant to authority, ready to rebel or riot. You can always count on Aquarius to be unpredictable....in that way maybe they actually are habitual. Fixed signs can be obsessive - fixated. This sign may very well go off the deep end in terms of hobbies, the search for knowledge, questioning things, conspiracies, and more.

[cinemaocd]

Jenny's ongoing list of films watched 2024

February

January list, here.

Inland Empire (2006)*** It took three attempts to get through this long, confusing film. Like Mulholland Drive or the Season Three of Twin Peaks, Lynch films improve on repeat viewings even if meaning remains elusive. That is part of the joy-- sometimes you just vibe with it.

Death of Stalin (2017)**** One of my favorite films of the last two decades. A harried farce with the bloody-mindedness of Macbeth. Like the Scottish Play, we know how its going to come out, but the fun is in watching the articulate villain, played with delicious malice by Simon Russell Beale being outdone by a team of bumbling, petty bureaucrats and one very bad ass soldier. The Boyfriend (1970)*** Ken Russell's surreal tribute to the burlesque musical genre makes the most of its setting in the 1920s by putting his star Twiggy in iconic psychadelic reiterations of the flapper dress. If you opine the fact that drop waist dresses come back into style every 15 years or so, then this movie is as much to blame as anything. Poor Things (2023)*** Emma Stone gives a wild and convincing physical performance as Bella, a baby's brain in the body of her dead mother and Mark Ruffalo as typical 19th Century Rake Getting His Comeupance iscasting I didn't know I needed. I loved the yearning Godwin (Willem Defoe in truly amazing Frankenstein's monster makeup) and though I haven't read the book, I was drawn into the grotesque, ai generated world of the film. The aesthetics of this movie are as engrossing as the story and characters. Adventures of a Dentist (1965)** The Soviet version of the live action Disney comedies of the 70s, where a humble person is given magical power. Here a dentist is given extraordinary, almost magical abilities to perform dentistry without pain. He becomes a celebrity and his fall from grace involves him giving in to the decadent trappings of being a popular dentist. The humor has a darker edge than Disney though I wouldn't go so far as to call it a black comedy. Adolf Hitler: My Part in His Downfall (1973)** This Spike Milligan film plays like a double episode of Dad's Army, not least because of the presence of Arthur Lowe who plays practically the same character here as he does on the tv show. That is not the end of the world however and this is easy to like farce with Milligan's ascerbic, anti-authoritarian bent that is grittier than anything on the sitcom. The Master (2012)** I had high hopes for this, one of Phillip Seymour Hoffman's final films and his last collaboration with director Paul Thomas Anderson is loosely based on the origin story of Scientology. Joaquin Phoenix plays a shell shocked veteran who drifts into the path of the cult leader played by Hoffman. Amy Adams gives a chilling performance as his much younger, controlling wife who is the real power behind the cult. I think I would have an easier time with this film if Anderson hadn't gone around giving interviews saying that Scientology and it's founder L. Ron Hubbard had "helped a lot of people." Of course, this is PTA and Phoenix's character isn't helped at all and he makes the cult worse by being a violent enforcer for the leader's enemies. The levels of whitewashing involved in making a deeply misogynistic cult into a secret matriarchy is just...ugh. However, the homoerotic tension between Hoffman and Phoenix makes the film worth looking out. Murder of Quality (1991)** Made for TV adaptation of John Le Carre's second novel. Denholm Elliott plays Smiley as more doddering and anti-social than Alec Guinness' iconic version of the character. This early Smiley story is more a traditional English village murder mystery, ala Miss Marple, with Glenda Jackson playing Ailsa, Smiley's war buddy that runs a women's magazine. Christian Bale plays one of the students at an elite prep school that forms the economic backbone of the town. Le Carre is merciless in his portrayal of the toxic, petty characters, the wealthy and wannabe wealthy swamp dwellers who run rings around the local constabulary until Smilley steps in and withstands their slings and arrows long enough to solve the case.

The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)*** Sometimes you sit down to watch a movie with such low expectations that you are pleasantly surprised that it doesn't totally suck. The excitement of things not being as bad as you feared can blot out some of a movie's excesses. At the end of the day this is Billy Wilder, physically incapable of creating a boring movie throwing the whole bag of tricks at this faux biography of Holmes starring Robert Stephens and Colin Blakely. There's farce and physical comedy, verbal gymnastics and exotic locations. Holmes' possible homosexuality is tastefully hinted at and attempts to create a sensationalist account of his drug use, amount to little before the mystery gets rolling. One of the big delights is Christopher Lee as Mycroft whose scenes with Robert Stephens are bitchy queen pissing contests. Genevieve Page does a turn as a would be damsel in distress who turns out to be a worthy opponent to Holmes similar to Irene Adler.

Irma La Duce (1963)*** For some reason between this and Poor Things I ended up watching two movies about Parisian brothels this month. Billy Wilder based this pastiche of 1950s travelogue adventure films like To Catch a Thief and Charade on a French stage play. A strange attempt to weld the success of the Apartment with Some Like it Hot, reconfiguring a Marilyn Monroe vehicle as a reunion of Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine. Like the Apartment, Irma LaDuce is tinged with melancholy while avoiding a lot of the cliches about sex work that wind up dating so many films on this topic. The main complaint I have about Irma LaDuce s that it's about 45 minutes too long, a common complaint about many films of this period. (Damn Lawrence of Arabia and all who sail in her).

Witness for the Prosecution (1982)*** A made for tv adaptation of the classic courtroom drama, which credits Billy Wilder's screenplay of his film version. Ralph Richardson and Deborah Kerr star in this remake and honestly their chemistry is just off the charts and we're left to wonder how they never managed to make a film together before. Wendy Hiller, Diana Rigg and Beau Bridges round out the amazing cast. Lacks the tension and edge of Wilder's film but I'm having too much fun with Ralph to care.

The Major and the Minor (1942)**: Billy Wilder's first film as writer and director has some of the hallmarks of his later, greater works: farce, trains, mistaken identity, and queer themes in the form of a lesbian coded sister of Ginger Roger's romantic rival. That all the fuss is about fairly bland Ray Milland is easy enough to overlook as Wilder makes the film about toying with Rogers image as sophisticated, sexy, dancer. Typical Wilder inside jokes about the film industry abound, such as a craze for Veronica Lake hairdos among the tween set and swipes at Hollywood actors like Charles Boyer Rogers' childish masquerade to avoid paying full adult fare is preceded by a series of calamities where she's pursued and objectified by a lot of nasty older men. Hoping to escape their advances as well as the ignominity of turnstyle jumping, she maintains the charade through a long weekend with a lot of handsy tween boys until Milland's fiancee is discredited as a controlling social climber. There is a bizarre side track into her home town where Rogers also impersonates her mother before revealing her grown adult self to Milland. No one ever accused Billy Wilder of being restrained I guess.

The Children's Hour (1961)**** This classic of queer cinema was necessarily a scorched earth tragedy at the time of its release. William Wyler's dreamy, restless camera drags you into the warm, cozy life of this female partnership between Shirley Maclaine and Audrey Hepburn that seemingly has the potential to be a romantic partnership. When nasty gossips and spoiled children start a rumor that they are a couple, the scandal destroys their business and standing in the community. Terrorized by the homophobic townspeople, they are eventually "cleared" of the crime of being gay for each other, just when Maclaine's character comes to the brutal realization that she really is in love with Audrey Hepburn's character. It's hard to watch her grief and shame as she admits that the bullies have discovered a truth about her that she didn't know herself. A fact so many queer people can find relatable. The film is based on a play by Lilian Hellman which used the topic of homosexuality to expose the cruelty of female narcissists who bully their way into power. There is much in common with Hellman's The Little Foxes in that way, but the film, perhaps owing to Wyler's inherent romanticism has more of a Romeo and Juliet quality than the play. One feels that Audrey Hepburn has perhaps realized the truth in the lie, just a few moments too late.

Sweet Charity (1969)*** Directed by Bob Fosse, starring Shirley MacLaine and Sammy Davis Jr and Chita Rivera this classic musical combines the best of Fossee's signature choreography, sixties pop show tunes and the psychadelic aesthetics of the late 60s. This and the Boyfriend have a lot in common, though I think the music in Sweet Charity is more solid and the contemporary setting makes it a tad edgier. MacLaine plays yet another flavor of sex worker, a dancehall hostess and paid companion who seeks to be elevated out of her life into respectability through marriage. The fiancee here is uptight and lacking in appeal and when he finally just flakes out in the final reel it's no great loss to the film.

Thief (1981)** Atypical heist film starring James Caan and Jim Belushi, directed by Miama Vice creator Michael Mann. You can see the beginnings of that iconic 80s TV show, in this movie which favors long scenes of action being edited to music with sparse dialog. Caan squares off against Tom Signorelli a local mob boss who dares to threaten Caan's wife played by Tuesday Weld.

[homestuckexamination]

I think rage is one of the most misunderstood aspects. People think it’s related to close-mindedness or shrinking possibilities or dogma and religion, when really that’s simply the result of the only ragebound we’ve seen in canon being destroyer classes (it’s like thinking hope is about being hopeless or heart is about splintering yourself) anyway, what’s your take on it?

I do think Rage is misunderstood and there's a lot more to it than just that- However I also think it's not because we've only seen Destroyer Classes, because I also think considering the Destroyer Classes to 'inverse' or mess the take on the Aspect is, also, false. Dirk is ABSOLUTELY Heart, his entire arc is about his Identity and his splinters, that is just, inherently Heart- Likewise, Gamzee also deals a lot with the dual tragicomedy of everything, the theatrics, he both deals with bullshit 'Plot Armor' and contrivance, as well as the underlying reality of Paradox Space and the existence of Lord English as the central, focal figure of his cult.

These things are their Aspects, not inversions in any way because of the Class.

[sher-ee]

This is who Trump has been for years.

Yet, many blue collar supporters think that Trump would take care of them. It’s astonishing to witness such sycophancy, such a lack of critical thinking skills and full on ignorance during a time when truthful information is easily found.

Trump has filed over 3,500 lawsuits to keep from paying people what he promised to pay them.

[allycat75]

Since you may need some tools before you find more consistent help, Boston Dumb Fuck, here is a thought-provoking and useful article about the "Quiet Ego".

Key points:

Backed by studies, unlike some pseudo-self help cults about the ego

Observing oneself with detached awareness, similar to the (true) practice of mindfulness

Focuses on inclusive identification, so you can't take yourself out of the equation

Ability of perspective-taking, allowing to empathize with others’ experiences without losing one's own identity

Growth mindedness describing long-term personal development and more intrinsically rewarding experiences

This all leads to psychological flourishing, improved social relationships and personal growth

Also co-developed by a woman, just to remind you of the misogynist tendencies you have demonstrated this year, and probably long before but went unchecked (jump scares; 2 V-day videos, especially that unsettling deep throat oeuvre; expousing nothing bad will ever happen if you believe hard enough- thanks Eckhart Tolle, guess you aren't one of the 1 in 3 women who will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime.)

[beautifulpersonpeach]

This was in response to this post Bpp https:// twitter.com/jimin_lil_devil/status/1708910758296527127?t=Lv0TQdZkJsIL4ki82Pcu-Q&s=19

I'm TIRED of pjms attacking everything Jung Kook does Bpp. SICK AND TIRED. He can't like movies now????? Jung Kook and Jimin like the same movie but that's a problem for pjms. They act like a cult coming up with conspiracy theories, trying to control what happens between jikook just cos they can't contain their hate for JK that spills out everywhere and it makes me so sick.

What can I do? Report them? Block them? How do we get rid of these people who poison everything they touch including jikook.

***

Your link.

Ignore them.

Akgaes like that I won't even bother reporting or blocking. They're not actually being abusive to either Jungkook or Jimin, just displaying some good old fashioned feeble-mindedness in public. When I see people acting uncouth, I don't try to correct them. Why interfere with natural selection? Their tweets and posts expose them for what they are. It's like that Loki situation for me all over again - there's nobody who could read their ramblings and think that came from the mind of someone all there. And anyone who felt comfortable being in that environment in the first place, surrounded by all that lunacy, should self-sort into their respective buckets.

It sounds mean but it's just the reality of what you see in fandom. There's no referee here and everyone feels entitled to their own little corner to indulge in whatever they like, including their most base thoughts and desires. These people are what they are regardless of what you do, or anything Jimin or Jungkook does. If jikook liking the same movie didn't set them off, something else would, because like I said earlier, their problem has nothing to do with jikook, Jungkook, or even Scooter. These are just shitty people looking for an excuse to indulge in their natural propensity for idiocy.

Ignore them and stream. We have Jimtober goals, we're in the middle of a comeback for 3D, and Tae's album is still pretty fresh.

I suggest you stop stalking akgae profiles looking for something to piss you off. If you make it a habit, at some point one will have to ask why you're really here. Focus on what you enjoy and ignore the rest.

Good luck.

[transvomelsass]

Evey single one of your complaints and remarks regarding any origin character in this blursed game just shows your immense weakness and you are just not worthy.

Gale? My autistic mage bestie? You are calling him annoying, pedantic and all that? Craven weaklings.

Lae'Zel? My religious cult survivor? You dare reduce her to the endoctrination she suffered all her life? Puny, rotten maggots.

Wyll? A boring goodie-two-shoes? Insignificant fucks.

You are unworthy of enjoying them. You are unworthy of enjoying the Ur-traumatized sassy whore, the amnesic religious cult survivor Evanescence fan or the shembo (she/her himbo) with terminal illness.

They are all well written with deep stories and any hate is a testament to your narrow mindedness.

[chaifootsteps]

Watching Vivs cult fans genuinely makes me want to slam my head in a car door repeatedly. Her fans are willing to basically dog pile anyone they view as a toxic person, but will grasp at any straw they can to excuse Vivs behavior, or simply turn their back and state that evey but of evidence is either fake or from so long ago that she's obviously changed, even if it happend last week. And yet, they're never willing to pass that sentiment on to anyone else who's ever done anything wrong in their entire lives. The hypocrisy and narrow-mindedness of them genuinely drives me batshit insane, and it's only made worse by the fact that Viv either ignores it or borderline endorses it.

It's absolutely wild, and maybe I just haven't been paying attention, but I can't recall seeing anything like it in fandom before. It's frustrating and fascinating at the same time.

You think about how Vivzie's fandom slants to the younger side, how a lot of them grew up following her stuff, and you wonder if some part of them knows that the evidence isn't faked, that the people coming forward can't all be jealous lying haters making the whole thing up, but to admit it would be to admit that someone they thought the world of broke their hearts.