#have i been playing too much cult of the lamb lately?

[ghoulisheous]

Catch Danny sipping a 7-11 Big Gulp slushie at 3 in the morning wearing a t-shirt that says "Have You Heard of Our Lord and Savior, Clockwork?"

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[paruparuparuparu]

UNHOLY ALLIANCE SPOILERS (again, I can’t stop yapping about this update):

Either I’m the slowest person alive, or I just think too much (though it’s fun to do so). BASICALLY I was just playing my game and thought over the Bishop’s final quest until I realized all of their dialogue had a connection to their injuries. I’ll start from the most obvious to the more vague.

First up- Leshy

In this dialogue, he makes the connection to his blindness and his ignorance, being so out of touch with reality that he didn’t know the extent of what he was getting himself into.

Narinder’s plans were not at all a bother to him, having his own cult to run and experiment with. He relished in the devotion his chaotic ways had to offer, and because of his foolishness, he lost his sight; hence see no evil.

Now for the genocide. Once again, he explains he didn’t know the full extent of what he was getting himself into, more focused on what had happened rather than what will happen. Therefore he thoughtlessly agreed, seeing how his siblings were compliant to Shamura’s orders.

He never saw the evil in the actions of his peers until it was too late, his eyes acting as both a symbol and punishment for his ignorance to all around him.

Next- Kallamar

This can be easily skipped if you didn’t pay attention to the dialogue, but he explains that all of which he has heard he wishes to unhear.

I already explained this in my other post, but he knew of Narinder’s plans, and instead of speaking out, he cowers and wishes he never knew of it in the first place. Unlike Leshy, who remained ignorant on the matter, Kallamar knew too much.

For the genocide (Which might explain the Mystic Sellers description of Kallamar), he hesitates when he hears of Shamura’s orders to kill all Lambs. A part of him knows that what they’re doing is wrong, but rather than listening to his sense of justice, he complies. An action in which he regrets.

He hears too often, and wishes to not hear. He listens, and yet doesn’t listen to himself. His ears act as a symbol and punishment for his cowardice and lack of self.

Now- Heket

This one is a little less obvious than the previous ones, but only a small part admits it. Heket shows her love for her siblings quite often despite being the cruelest of them. So imagine her despair once everything fell out of order.

For Narinder’s plans, she was most likely unaware of them before it was too late. And once everything started falling out of order, she was demanding for everything to go back to normal, urging her siblings for all that has gone wrong to right itself, and finally in her most vulnerable state, begged for the family she once knew to come back together, knowing that it never would.

After being left vulnerable, her despair turned into rage targeted at Narinder. She was determined to protect her remaining siblings, and in turn, immediately agreed upon hearing Shamura’s orders to carry out the slaughter of all Lambs. She heard the lambs scream and beg with their lungs, cry for lost loved ones, and demand justice for those who have been wronged. Though, she showed no remorse; for she knew there was none.

She screamed and begged for her family, and in turn heard others scream for their own. Her throat symbolizes and acts as punishment for the injustice she faced herself, and for the injustice she caused others.

Finally- Shamura

Shamura’s dialogue is the longest of the Bishops, as well as the most confusing for me to pick apart.

Shamura knew of Narinder’s plans, and yet decided to tell nobody. They knew of the risks of supporting such practices, yet went along with it anyways until the consequences were apparent. Then and there, they decided to put a stop to it all, banishing Narinder to his own realm.

This part would just be a guess in order to connect the dots, but I have a feeling that Shamura and Clauneck conversed one day. On that day, the cards were drawn, telling of a lamb that would slay all the Bishop and set the Chained One free. Shamura didn’t accept this, and politely dismissed themselves, almost immediately thinking on how to avoid such a fate.

One day after resting for years, they come up with a solution- that solution is of course, to destroy all lambs. They order their remaining siblings to hunt them down, spreading propaganda, putting bounty’s on their heads, and spreading plauge and famine across the lands.

They feed their siblings lies about the prophecy, twisting and molding their fate to bring a sense of hope to their siblings. Eventually, they start believing their own lie, convincing themselves that blood must be spilled in order to preserve the Old Faith.

They spin and mold the web to their liking, though eventually it will all come apart, and all that they’re left with is guilt. Their skull symbolizes the strings they pulled. The lies they fed. The guilt of knowing. The guilt of deceiving. All of it. For it is the way they will be punished.

All of these are basically my take on the whole thing, and are not confirmed besides the dialogue. I just enjoy piecing everything together because this game is just so amazing!! Also if you made it to here, thank you for reading all of that, and if you have any thoughts or corrections, feel free to comment and or repost!!

[mentos-or-mentoes]

My God, just recently I watched Hotel Hazbin, and it just amazed me! Especially Cannibaltown and its inhabitants, they are all so cute, aristocratic and at the same time deadly!

So based on this I came up with an idea.

What if we take the Reader, who is also the leader of a small settlement of cannibals isolated from everyone, who are followers of the red crown, who miraculously managed to survive and hide, isolating all the settlements from everyone and waiting for the prophecy and the lamb to happen, which will free “the one who waits.”

It would be very interesting to see how the already defeated five bishops who are in the cult of the lamb accidentally stumble upon a settlement where Narinder’s followers still live, who eat the flesh of "heretics" and those who want to completely destroy Narinder's legacy. At the same time, they still continue to remain like one big friendly family, with their own manners and friendly character)

(I apologize in advance, because English is not my native language, but I hope I conveyed the essence correctly)

This wont be headcanons. mainly because i don't know exactly how i'm supposed to write this as headcanons. But i hope you enjoy!

I havent watched Hazbin Hotel yet, but i will try my best to make something somewhat like you asked.

Cult of the lamb ex-Bisops + Narinder / TOWW x Reader who is a Cannibal leader.

(this will be with the bishops in follower form).

Narinder / TOWW

Narinder was out gathering some meat for the cult per the lambs request when he suddenly heard a sound from somewhere. It was loud, maybe a shout? A cry? He didn't pay much attention to it at first. But curiosity got the better of him. When he went to investigate the general area, all he could find was some red robes and the remains of a (newly dead) body. It had definetly been a planned attack, that much he was sure of. It was obvious looking at the robes, it didn't have as much as even a singular scratch on it.

Suddenly he heard a noise, Narinder got ready to fight but was met by a seemingly innocent, joyful smile as you, greeted him. You offered him shelter and food for the night and he accepted the kind offer, not wanting to stay out too late.

Upon arriving at the little cult, he was surprised. Everyone seemed to be running around, playing and just having a fun time overall. You didn't have much of anything, yet everyone seemed perfectly fine. Nobody was even remotely sick, or lacking in nutrition. This did make him slightly suspicious. You told him that you'd have to go take care of some ''buisness'', he didn't really care too much, but he did keep an eye on you to make sure you weren't scheeming anything. A bit later, you came back, soaked in blood, and a bone in hand, ruínging a bell. It was then you announced dinner was ready, as well as in a slightly saddend tone announcing that a dissenter who was especially troublesome had been taken care of.

Narinder immidietly put two and two together, and realized that the dissenter you were talking about, was now the meat in the bowl of stew sitting in front of him. He freaked out a little and questioned you about it, You calmy told him that it was how things were around the area, thoose who failed to follow the teachings of the red crown, would help the faithful, by giving them energy, and filling their tummies. You also informed him that, after having to hide as a result of his excile, that rescources were not easy to come by, so it was how things were, and that everyone was fine with it, even scrapping together some vegetables for thoose who'd prefer not to indulge in the cannibalism. Most did so there was enough for a good bit of vegetable stew for him and a couple other followers who simply were too disturbed by the concept but didn't want to leave the cult.

Narinder couldn't help but feel as if he was falling for you, a tiny bit. A sweet, kind leader who wasn't afraid to do what had to be done. Fufilling your own needs first, but making sure everyone felt comfortable after your needs were met.

Narinder would start visiting your little cult whenever he was snet out to get anything for the cult. and if you were up for it, he would be more then willing to ask the lamb, if your cults could kind of join together, your cult taking care of the dissenters who'd keep dissenting no matter what. He'd one day confess his love for you while you two were enjoying the guts of an outsider who had tried to harm your followers, It was a bit akward, but you just gave him a quick kiss, and if you decided to pet him then he'd practically melt into your touch.

Heket

Heket had thought that all cults worshipping the red crown other then that god forsaken lambs cult had died out. She had done so much to try and stop it, yet it seemed near inevitable.

She knew Anura the best so, naturally she took almost every opprotunity to go there, mainly to get away from the cult. One day she had heard a noise comming from a bush. Not afraid to fight, she got ready to take on whatever would jump out at her, After a bit nothing happend. She stopped for a second wondering what it was, before continuing to walk. Suddenly, she heard a soft, quiet, humming. It sounded nice, Heket went to investigate the sound to find you minding your own buisness. She knew something was off, she could tell very easily, but she couldn't quite put a finger on it. You introduced yourself to her, showing her around your cult, and talking about the history behind it

She was just taking a walk in Anura, gathering some mushrooms for the cult, when she saw you. Her whole view of you changed that day. As you were cleaning out the blood from the intenstine of a follower, whilst another of your cult members were chopping up the flesh, and another was boiling the sausages that had been stuffed with meat, and twisted to make hotdogs. You asked your friend if she was hungry and offered her a sausage. She accepted and then the little ''secret'' you had was out.

Heket was definetly amused at how your cult was. Everyone knew eachother and cared for one another like family, yet, every time you made your followers eat the flesh of the people they once knew, they seemed to only get more faithful. You even had options for thoose who didn't want to. Truly a place for everyone. upon revisiting the cult she asked you about it, and you told her that, after worshipping the red crown was forsaken, you and your followers had to go into hiding. And therefore you had to do all things nessecary to survive. If one member was caught, then surely everyone would be dead. so scavaging for plants, seeds and other things like that was out of the question, instead having to settle for whatever was available. Thats when you told her of how, thoose who dissented too much would either end up having to rot in a cell somewhere or you and the rest of your cult could get some use out of them, via cannibalising them.

She didn't really think much of it (She probably ate a couple of dissenters too back when she was a bishop herself). You treated thoose who had passed, and thoose who had been faithful with respect. promising to give them a proper passing, and not eating their remains, no matter how desperate things got. One day while at the cult you were even serving up a follower who had tried to sneak into the catacombs to try and take the meat from a passed elder. You of course didn't tolorate that in the slightest bit.

The day she asked you out, she had planned to cook a meal for the two of you, to eat alone. You seemed to read her open as a book because the second you two were alone, you gave a quick little kiss on the cheek, and confessed your love for her, right then and there.

Leshy

It was a cold, stormy night. And out on a journey to find his eye, Leshy was slithering around. When suddenly he tripped over something. He was met with somewhat of an embrace, rather then the cold dirt, as you greeted him. Offering to help him around, and to help him try to find his missing eye. You took him back to your cult, where everyone gave him a warm welcome, You gave him some soup. Leshy however, having a very good smelling sense to make up for his lack of vision, could immidietly smell that something was off. You, knowing that he couldn't see and wanting to try and calm him down fro, thinking you were trying to poison him, just told him that it was the meat of a worm follower who had recently started to dissent alot. On one hand it calmed him down a bit, that he wasn't being poisoned. On the other hand, it freaked him out even more how casually you just talked about turning a person into soup.

You told Leshy that, nobody would hurt him, and that you'd make sure of it. Your calm energy, and words of comfort definetly helped him out. The kindness of your followers towards him despite what he did, made him feel welcome

when he asked exactly who you and your cult was worshipping, he got surprised at the fact that you also worshipped the red crown. Not that it wasn't a possibility, but most people who had worshippec the red crown had been found, then put to the blade. He himself witnessed almost every single of its followers die infront of him. To think that you and this cult of atleast 60 people had hidden that well from him, and his siblings, just surprised him.

His amasement at how you handled, well, everything! You almost managed your cult better then he did when he was a bishop. You made sure everyone was comfortable, And that no boundaries were overstepped, as long as the followers of the cult were to be faithful, and respectful towards others. Your willingness to help others, both inside and outside of your cult, as long as your, and your followers needs were met, definetly lead to him developing some feelings towards you.

He'd start visiting more often, especially after getting his eye back, You'd make sure to avoid having him around especially gory sacrifices or executions, if we didn't want to see them.

Leshy would one day just, go up to you, kiss you, then wait to see how you'd react. When you kissed him back, immidietly followed up by a hug, was definetly one of the happiest moments of his life.

Kallamar

Kallamar was just on a walk to calm himself down, when he saw you, he immidietly panicked. You just saw him, and casually waved with someones severed hand. His screams could be heard all throughout the old faith. He was practically unable to move, And he was terrified the second he realized, that you, were only getting closer. By the time you were close enough to actually talk to him, he was practically on his knees just begging you to not hurt him. You reckognized him as one of the four bishops that had tried to kill you and your followers back when Narinder was banished, Didn't stop you from trying to calm him down, and telling him that you weren't gonna be hurting him any time soon.

He was shocked that a cult like yours was still going, especially after everything he and his siblings had done to try and eradicate any evidence of the red crowns existence. Turns out, you and your followers had been living far back in the caves, worshipping the red crown the entire time. Knowing that the prophecy of the lamb, that would free your great leader, would one day be fufilled. You had basically managed to make a secret society, but with everyone being cannibalistic.

You were terrifying, yet, oddly comforting. You made Kallamar feel like he was in danger, yet safe at the same time. It seemed you had affected you followers in the same way, with them gladdly following your word, doing as you said happily, both in the fear for their lives, but also out of will. Everyone knew eachother down there, and it gave people less reason to dissent. Thoose who did, would lose their life, as well as make everyone around them have to lose someone close to them. It hurt you and everyone else, what you had to do for survival, but it was nessecary. They understood, and everytime food was getting low, many people would be willing to offer themselves up, for the sake of everyone else.

Kallamar would never confess his feelings to you, but you became an unofficial couple because, his crush was clear as day to everyone around him, including you. so you just started being romantic, and started dating, no confessions needed.

Shamura

Shamura didn't leave the cult too much, not without someone by their side atleast. They however do have a tendency to just, wander off to god knows where. It was on one of theese times, that they stumbled upon what they at first thought was the cult of the lamb, because of the robes. Upon seeing a bunch of new faces, they started to think otherwise. You however, were kind, and accepting of them stumbling upon your little settlement. Offering them something that could remind them of their days in power, Something akin to eating the dissenters of their cult, for power.

Shamura could immidietly tell, that something, was different, about the food they were being served. After asking you, they found out that an outsider had tried to attack some children, much to their mistake, so you simply took care of them, and served them up to preserve space. It made sense, as the area had not much if anything at all to grow crops at, so having to provide for a whole cult would be difficult without some other food source. You started talking about how, it had been a family tradition, that you had brought with you as a solution to providing food and taking care of dissenters in the cult, at the same time.

You decided to try and teach them a bit about how to use every bit of the body for different dishes, and what nutrition, the different body parts had. It was knowledge Shamura hadn't heard of before. but something they'd love to hear more about, learning every single bit there was to know about the body, and surviving in places with close to nothing.

Your cult being the only remaining that worshipped the crown before Naridners excile, meant you had lots of ''Forbidden'' knowledge. Almost anything related to death, or the afterlife was something anyone in the cult could talk about for hours on end, regardless of if it was an adult or one of the many children. You knew how to preach, and you did it startingly well.

Shamura could see your cult and the lambs, merging together, or yours potentially growing bigger. Your charisma, your soft, gentle voice, your aura, everything was just so, calm and caring about you. And to think that you were possibly one of the most brutal leaders out there when you wanted to be or needed to be, it was seomthing that they knew was the sign of a great leader.

They would bring some books and some tomes from their cult one day and ask if you wanted to read with them, you accepted, and you two spent the evening together, cuddling, and enjoying eachothers company.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

could i request the bishops + lambert with a rat reader that's a master thief, but is from a place where the old faith didn't have a really tight grasp so the reader hasn't really ever heard of the cult or the old faith?

Leshy

Being a master thief has gotten you surprisingly far in life, stealing things from berry seeds to bags of gold. Enough to comfortably get by. You're just very stealthy in all you do.

When you visited Darkwood for the first time, it was fairly easy sneaking around by using the trees and bushes as cover.

You were practically invisible to the average person and not even the Droppers noticed you.

Unfortunately, the worms beneath your feet sensed you wandering too close to Leshy's temple to their liking, being quick to inform their leader of your intrusion.

You ended up facing him, and his first accusation was that you were stealing for Lamb's cult.

Imagine his confusion when you respond with "who?"

He thinks you're playing dumb, though you sound dead serious when you claimed not to know who they were....nor did you know who he was.

"I am Bishop Leshy of Darkwood! Bearer of the chaotic Green Crown! Everyone in the Old Faith knows my name!" He boasts, thinking this will somehow jog your memory.

But the truth is that where you're from, the Old Faith's gospel didn't really latch onto your society. So you knew nothing of the bishops, nor their war with the Lamb's cult.

Your only interest is the price Leshy paid for that Green Crown.

Despite feeling insulted, he decides to let you go since you aren't allied with Lamb (plus as the youngest bishop he didn't rly know what to do with an outsider like yourself).

He only demands that you never returned, lest you be strung up in the trees or buried six feet under.

You just took some souvenirs in the form of gold nuggets and pretty little worm skulls for the journey home.

Kallamar

The worm's more paranoid brother, on the other hand, had his fair share of outsiders trying to weave their way into the cult...

Only to snatch up glowing crystal clusters and raid shipwrecks for treasures.

Midas was one such thief until he was banished for redistributing the treasures and acting like a "god of fortune" to clueless followers.

Anchordeep has a law forbidding followers from selling crystals for profit and trespassing onto shipwrecked areas.

In his realm, the punishment fits the crime as it consists of the accused's hands being infected with some disease--ranging from severe itching to boils....or even necrosis.

You're totally unaware of this law (not that you'd care about the law to begin with) and go about your thievery business like usual.

Somehow you avoided alerting Kallamar--even tricking him into falsely accusing others of stealing crystals--but he eventually found out and had you brought to his palace for interrogation.

Even though you tell him you've never heard of the Old Faith nor his laws, he's certain you're just making excuses.

"It's just common sense...you don't walk into someone's house and just take whatever you want!!" He snaps.

While he's generous not to punish you with necrosis or boils...your hands are left constantly itchy for several days, persisting even after you returned home emptyhanded. They ached and hurt all over.

You didn't realize you damn near scratched your own skin off until you noticed blood under your nails.

Heket

You'd think there wouldn't be much to steal in swampy, humid, smelly Anura. But you were quite wrong.

Back at home, your folks got shipments of menticide mushrooms (which are a delicacy as both a soup and, of course, hallucinogens).

They never got spores to grow their own supply, though, and lately Anura's trades have been lackluster.

So you decided to travel there and do some "charity work" with your master thief skills. Plus find a few keepsakes along the way.

Besides the mushrooms, nobody in your village knew much about this domain....nor were you aware of its arrogant amphibian ruler.

You were in cahoots with Sozo's followers, visiting their grotto and camping grounds, stealing heaps of shrooms for them in exchange for gold and tarot cards.

Ofc you'd pocket some of the spores for yourself.

Eventually your thievery was discovered after a Mushroomo accidentally sold you out to Heket while they were high, leading to her finding and interrogating you.

She blatantly accuses you of stealing for Lamb...but is taken aback when you admit to not knowing them, the bishops, or the Old Faith.

"Your folks have traded with Anurians for ages....yet you know not of our religion??"

"Some of the elders have, but none of your "doctrines" really stuck around for long."

Heket finds this revelation most puzzling, but in her confusion you flee her temple, and she barks at the guards to stop you.

Fortunately for you, no frog there could leap fast enough to keep up.

Shamura

Of all four rulers, this wise old spider had the greatest understanding that the Old Faith's gospel cannot touch every bit of land out there..

It's simply impossible for everyone in the world to know about it (let alone conform to its teachings) even if all their followers combined went on missionaries to spread the word.

That being said, they weren't completely alarmed when the bugs informed them that they caught an outsider--specifically a thief, aka you.

You were hoping to take some prized pieces of pottery and gold, but you got caught in a trap and busted big time.

Normally you're fearless, but being face-to-face with the Bishop of War while being webbed up in a silk cocoon (and seeing similar victims strung-up on the ceiling of the temple) had you scared shitless.

You were 100% convinced that Shamura was going to dissolve your guts into acid and feast on your corpse.

And yet...they spoke to you rather calmly, curious about your place of origin rather than angry over your thievery.

They ask you different things about your village, what religion it follows, how much it knows of the OF, etc.

Their followers kept reminding them that you're a criminal and should be prosecuted as such.

Eventually they do, but instead of death you're given a chance to earn your freedom by participating in a fighting pit.

Somehow you win and get to take all of the loser's money.

Lamb

First, they notice their offerings mysteriously vanishing from the shrines around the cult.

Then they realized all the gold bars made from their refineries were suddenly gone, the chests completely empty.

When they mentioned this during a sermon, half their followers are confused...while the other half began pointing fingers at each other and start arguing.

Lamb sees them accusing each other all the time of stealing, so he usually takes the accuser's word for it and puts the suspect in the pillory for a little while.

But things get messy as the problem continues and they're running out of materials to build pillories with.

They'd rather not be chastised by the One Who Waits for causing such discord in his cult, so they temporarily halt their crusades and investigate.

Eventually, Lamb discovers it's been you all along, but since you're a rat...for a moment they believed you were related to Ratau and Ratoo.

You don't know who tf they are..nor were you aware that you've been stealing from a cult.

Honestly, they're impressed that you managed to evade them for this long, but displeased with the fact your actions nearly tore apart their entire following.

Since you aren't affiliated with the Old Faith, they don't punish you harshly, yet want you to understand there's consequences.

Your sentence is community service for a day and apologizing to every follower.

It's humbling as hell, but you get through it and Lamb lets you take some treasures home.

[lionacuty]

I'll talk about all five kids which are Mirai, Pearla, Ashes, Hazel and Flora (name possibility for the caterpillar worm kiddo) from eldest to youngest

Hazel is a hybrid of a frog and cat with some shark elements, she is the eldest daughter of the bishop of famine, she was known to be very mischievous kid along side being loud and hot headed like her mother Heket with a lesser known part of her personality coming from their parents Méliva (who was known to be a no nonsense and serious cultist) in the form of being anxious and being a sassy little kid. She was a very late speaker when she was younger which no one knew why until it was discovered that she actually had trouble speaking similar to what Heket had but to a lesser degree, she does not like Niko nor understands why one of her mum's (aka Méliva) is so chill with them (she also has a little brother but he came along, found from within a forest after both of her parents got indoctrinated by Niko)

in the descendants au Hazel shall bear the yellow crown

Pearla is a squid jellyfish hybrid (with witness Astaroth being the jellyfish in question)she is younger than Hazel by a couple of years, eldest daughter of four kids (another squid jellyfish hybrid being the second oldest, a squid cuttlefish hybrid and the youngest being a squid octopus hybrid, these four needs names omg-), Kallamar's little princess and daughter of the bishop of pestilence. She is extremely spoiled because Kallamar was way too excited to be a parent, like to the point she wore a tiara that mimicked the blue crown because she straight wanted it and got a compromise instead during the days where her dad was a god, speaking of her dad she loves him very much to the point that seeing her siblings and cousins interacting with him makes her jealous and sees them as competition (which all five of her parents are trying their best to correct that behavior of hers), she also doesn't like the lamb and hates Narinder for tearing off her dad's beautiful ears which I shall mention that she is hard of hearing and is very easy to scare

in the descendants au Pearla shall bear the blue crown

Ashes is a hybrid of a sheep and cat with big problems surrounding her arms and hands as it is a struggle to pick up light objects due to underdeveloped muscles, despite that she's always at ready to duel her cousins with the usage of her head and horns as a way to show affection towards them ever since she picked up her parents rough and confusing in nature play fighting, she is quite the serious and curious kid indeed as the world around her seems to always have secrets lying around in the corner, she is the eldest daughter of 3 kids with her little siblings being twins and daughter of the new god of death

in the descendants au Ashes bears the red crown

Mirai is a fishing spider (specifically the white tiger fishing spider if I remember correctly) that was found alone near a pond by Shamura making her the daughter of the ex-bishop of war and knowledge, despite her memory problems she still is able to recall events Shamura can't and vise versa, they're a calm and reserved kid only taking to members of their own family for the most part as they enjoy their company the most, they have been shown to have a big interest in history and cult management

in the descendants au Mirai bears the purple crown

And lastly, Flora, they were found in Darkwood by Leshy as the poor kid was abandoned by their parents because they couldn't see at all, they were quite scared in the beginning of when they joined the cult under Leshy and his friends supervision and as time went on that fear of theirs disappeared to show the bubbly personality Flora has, and ends up seeing Leshy as their father figure because of what they have in common and the many times it taught them things that genuinely helped, they are known as the child of the ex-bishop of chaos

in the descendants au Flora bears the green crown which in this au too, they had it before they've met Leshy

so ya, here they are :3

[iamthecomet]

I finally finished day 19 about the new ghouls and they are precious, I've been up way too long tonight because my family is getting ready for a cook out tomorrow but Cheese and I are finally in bed and she is OUT, she stayed up a lot longer than usual.

I'm so ready for my two days off coming up so I can sleep/probably stay up late and read/write stuff or play Cult of the Lamb.

🕸️

I hope you got some sleep after this! I'm glad you're day 19 came out how you wanted! I love that feeling of being proud of what I've written. I'm going to be busy all this weekend, which is unfortunate because I have so much writing I want to work on. Luckily I'll be busy with fun things, so it will be worth the creative pause (unless I go insane, which is possible). Enjoy your two days off! You deserve it.

[viviskull]

@lambfated​ | Accepting

🍓 ?

((Just because I’ve been having c.otl brainrot as of late?  I’ll try to be slightly more in depth and simple with this one because I have SO MANY thoughts on this fucked up lamb.  Plus I only have so little time since I have to hop to bed after this one, so here we go.))

((If I had to say one or two things when it comes to your portray of this death lamb?  It could be because of the autism but your lamb feels like you took them straight out of the game, even when we only have so much lore to go off of them and their world.  Your headcanons (at least from the few I managed to read that you’ve posted in passing) are extremely detailed and go into more depth into their character than their writers ever really done with them; and it sometimes I feel like the writing team copies YOUR work given all your HC lore feels like the real deal.  The Lamb has a authentic personality that (even when they’re running a cult that had once been forced upon them) feels relatable even when you take on their character with an extreme calculative approach; and I say that applies to all their verses you have for them.  Even for the nice lamb, they still hold up a front that likes to time their words just right because they always want to make a good first impression with anyone they first meet!

Not only does your writing do them justice?  I am glad I got the chance to do some threads with you and chat with you this past month.  If it weren’t for your Lamb getting me back into playing their game again, I still get some great joy out of our interactions together with our lil muses!  Plus you the mun have been nothing but sweet ever since we got to chatting on Discord and whatnot.  You’re a good springboard when it comes to throwing ideas at too and I couldn’t have asked for a good RP partner who’s been patient with me when it comes to sending them random ideas out of the blue. <3))

[dsumps]

WOW! It has been how long?

For a second there, I thought I left the internet for real. Nah, turns out when the whole world panics about the death of a platform, somehow everyone returns the next week like nothing’s happened. Despite migrating my followed content on my other platforms, I STILL ended up using Twitter the most in viewing online content.How could I stop? Everyone still uses that platform to some degree. Despite this, I did promise that Tumblr would be my new place for posts (clearly followed up on that order :P), and I still haven’t (and won’t) post another thing on that platform for god knows how long.

Sooo, how have I been (if that even matters to you)? 

I’ve been fine, I got through my first year of college at ASU, and overall I’m just been chilling with the inactivity. The most I ever post online is through my personal Instagram, which for obv reasons, I won’t be sharing. Besides that its been scroll, like, next platforn, scroll, like,... the usual.

It’s been sort of nice to be afk from the constant active schedule, especially when there are important things to worry about than being on social media. I honestly don’t know how some of y’all do it better, haha. 

How about the art? Where’s the art?

I really did leave the blog hanging with the doodle sharing. There’s still several pages of sketches there, but I haven’t really drawn in like... a year. Again, college had me on a chokehold, and will again once next semester begins, so I haven’t really done much creatively for awhile. I MIGHT, but I don’t promise. Social media for me, isn’t much of a priority than living for real life, which pretty much defines my reason for inactivity. Not that I don’t care about it, otherwise this account would’ve been deleted long ago.

Any new interests / miscellaneous section?

This is just to update y’all about my current interests and such. Pretty much realized through the past year that I don’t like Pokémon as much as I thought. During Gen 8, I made it an effort to become engulfed into the currents of the games, anime, media, etc... and honestly it was a hassle, and I hated it, especially on Twitter. I pretty much learned that the only thing I actually cared about were the various Pokémon themselves. Especially apparent from my ever-growing collection of plushes that I dedicate to once in a while. It’s a massive money waster, but god do I love it. My recent favorite is the Cult of the Lamb plush I had to order in under a minute before being sold out. That was a fun experience, and I know I’ve sneaked him into several ASU promotional material. Funny I mention that, because I haven’t really played video games either since college. 

If there is ONE thing I do have current interest in, that would be this one small show you may have heard of this show I’m not sure if you know this show so ill show you the show so you know its a little show called Bluey. I’ve been obsessed with this show since the end of my winter break, funny enough initial interest came from watching TikTok's of people (jokingly, I hope) to compete with 6 y/olds for Bluey plushes at Target. I guess i’ve liked too many of these posts for TikTok to start sharing full episodes on my page, and I've never been the same since. I’ve caught up with the series, and I gotta say it’s one of my favorite current pieces of animated media to come out as of late. Without saying too much, this show made me question many aspects of my life several times to where I could say I’ve actually learned how to better myself a bit. It’s crazy to me that a goddamn toddler program from Australia is actively teaching me morals at age 19, but here we are, I guess. 

Will there be Bluey in this blog? maybe, but I plan on posting Bluey related content on another blog @dsumpsbluey For now, my primary blog will share primarily Pokémon, art, and Pokémon art; not that I’m gatekeeping Bluey, but I got something planned for that other blog (plans, I’m totally great with those). Other than that, that’s pretty much it with what’s up with me. Sorry for being inactive for as long as I did, real life just caught up to me that’s all. Hopefully if you’re still reading this, you realize my current position of my blog. Just know that unless specified by me, this blog isn’t dead. Good day, or night, and until the next post.

[the-cult-of-russo]

What are friends for?

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request: Hi! I loved little lamb, you're such an amazing writer!!! Can I request a piece where reader and Billy are friends and for her birthday she asks him to fulfill a smutty fantasy and he's all too happy to comply. Bonus points if reader calls Billy Lieutenant and it involves his combat gear. Love, love, love your blog <3 <3 <3

A/N: Thank you, dear friend 🥰😘

You guys are letting me live my best hoe life and I love you for it 😂

The High Priestess of the Cult of Russo blesses you all 🖤😈😘

 Warnings: cursing, a whole load of smut lmaoooo 

(Under 18s avert your eyes and scroll on by)

-----

“C’mon, Y/N. I keep askin’ you and you won’t gimme a goddamn answer. I need to know what you want,” Billy huffed from next to you. The pair of you were in a booth at the bar, your friends having all left around 10 minutes ago. You’d opted to stay since you hadn’t finished your very large glass of wine and Billy stayed to keep you company. He’d walk you home, he always did. 

You pursed your lips in thought before you scrunched your face up, looking at him as he gave you an exasperated look. You were sitting sideways on the bench seat with him, heels kicked off under the table with your legs draped sideways over his legs. It was pretty much par for the course with you two.

“I don’t know. I think I’m just getting to that age where I don't care about my birthday,” you snorted, taking a slurp from your wine. You had a little under half of it left now and you were pretty tipsy. Billy groaned and rolled his eyes at your answer and you gave him a sheepish smile before looking away. Your birthday was coming up in a few days and he’d been asking you for weeks what you wanted but you didn't really want anything. Nothing material anyway.

There was one thing that kept coming to mind yet you found yourself way too embarrassed to ask him. You took another generous glug of your wine as you thought about it, cheeks flushing slightly. 

“What is it?” Billy asked knowingly. Your eyes snapped to his then as he raised a brow.

“What's what?” You asked innocently. He grinned, looking amused as he snatched your glass and took a pull from it.

“You just thoughta somethin’, so spit it out. You know I’d get you anythin’ you want,” he said softly, a fond smile on his face. You chuckled to yourself, eyes darting around the bar for a moment as you nibbled your lower lip. If you were completely sober you’d never tell him, but you weren't sober.

“It’s not necessarily something you’d get me… more something you’d… do,” you murmured, lips tugging up in a wry smirk as you glanced at him. He tilted his head, dark eyes assessing you for a moment.

“Alright, I’m curious,” he drawled with a small smile.

You licked your lower lip, shifting in your seat a little and resting your elbow along the back of the bench seat, bringing you slightly closer to him. 

“Okay so… you can totally say no, but you asked so I’m just gonna come out with it. You're not allowed to be weirded out or hold it against me,” you said, levelling him with a firm look. Both his brows raised at that, an apprehensive look on his face.

“Spit it out, Y/N,” he murmured with narrowed eyes. You blew out a long breath, taking the glass back from his hand and slurping some of it. 

“My sex life’s been pretty… boring lately. It's always so vanilla, you know? I have this fantasy and honestly, I think you'd be perfect to fulfill it,” you said, looking him right in the eye thanks to the booze running through your veins. You watched as his brows almost flew off his head for a moment, mouth slightly agape as your words hit him. But then he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat a little as he tilted his head. His almost black eyes were pinning you in place and you idly wondered through the layers of alcohol in your brain if you'd just ruined your friendship. 

It wasn’t like you thought he wasn't attracted to you, you knew he was. You’d met years ago through Curtis and you quickly became part of their friend group. For the first month after meeting Billy, he’d tried to get in your pants every time you saw him and you’d turned him down. You were flattered, he was hands down the most attractive man you'd ever seen. But Curt had warned you of his reputation and you preferred to have one night stands with people you didn't know. It was less awkward that way. It was after that first month when things changed with you and Billy though. The pair of you were supposed to meet Frank and Karen at the bar but they hadn't turned up. You later learned they'd been so wrapped up in each other they'd forgotten the plans. But it ended up being just you and Billy. You'd bonded over tequila and tragic backstories and since then, you'd been super close friends. 

“What exactly is this fantasy of yours?” He asked. You didn't miss how his voice sounded deeper and it sent a shiver right through you. It wasn't an outright no, so you took that as a win at least.

“I mean… I don’t have specifics really. I have some ideas and stuff, things I’d like to try. And I don't feel comfortable doing it with some random guy, but I trust you so…” you trailed off, swishing the last bit of your red wine around in the glass. When you looked back up at him, his eyes were a little softer, a small smile playing on his lips. He leaned his arm on the bench, his hand by your hair as he toyed with it. It was something he did often and you always enjoyed it. 

“Tell me what you got in mind,” he murmured as you leaned into his touch.

“Do you still have any combat gear?” You asked, biting your lip as you looked up at him. He looked mildly shocked for less than a second before a sly grin worked its way onto his face.

“Yeah… yeah I do,” he replied with a smirk. 

“I have a thing for a guy in uniform, I mean who wouldn't? And I happen to know you look pretty good in it since I've seen the pictures,” you shrugged, sipping your wine. He seemed like he lit up at your praise and you almost laughed, it was kind of cute. 

“What else? You want me to play dress-up, but what else you wanna try?” He asked softly. It was a valid question, clearly if you didn't trust some random guy to do what you wanted it was more than just putting on military gear. 

You looked away for a moment but he tugged your hair, making you look back at him with a mild squint as he grinned at you, his brows raised expectantly.

“I’ve never tried anything… exciting. It's depressing, Billy! Its always boring old vanilla sex. I want to be dominated, I wanna be restrained, I wanna try things, you know? I wanna be choked, spanked, all of the good stuff,”  you whined, letting it all out. He blinked at you for a long moment and he didn't speak, his face unreadable. You started to wonder if you’d broken him before he rolled his shoulder and a dark smirk graced his face. It made your lower belly clench. You'd never seen that look on his face before, but fuck if you didn't like it.

“Done,” he said simply, the slightly terrifying yet arousing smirk still on his lips. His eyes were alight with something you couldn't place as you looked at him skeptically. 

“Really? Just like that?” You asked with a snort. You had no plans on telling him but you always thought if you did he’d say no or never speak to you again for even asking. 

“Just like that,” he shrugged easily. With that, he switched topics to something else entirely and before long he’d walked you home after you finished your wine. Neither of you mentioned it again and you wondered if he would before your birthday happened or if he was bluffing and didn't want to outright say it to your face that he didn't want to fuck you. 

Days went by pretty quickly and now it was the night before your birthday. Well, it was almost midnight so technically it was almost your birthday. You were sitting on the sofa in an oversized tee and your panties, watching reruns of The Walking Dead. The next day, your actual birthday, you’d be going to Karen and Franks for a little birthday get together with your friends. You yawned into your hand when suddenly your front door knocked firmly. You sat up straighter, now wide awake as you looked at it warily. You weren't expecting company at this time. You checked your phone to see it was dead on midnight before you got up and padded over to the door. When you looked through the peephole, no one was there. You took a step back feeling wary when the door knocked again, more impatient this time. With a deep breath you opened it but nothing could have prepared you for what was on the other side.

Billy was standing there decked out in his combat gear, the same kind you’d seen in the pictures of him and Frank overseas. It fit his frame perfectly and your eyes swept from his head to his feet before back up again, unable to help yourself. When they landed back on his face, he raised a brow, a smirk on his lips. In all honesty, you’d forgotten about it. He hadn't mentioned it once since it happened and acted like you’d never asked such a thing of him and it had completely slipped your mind. But now your body was thrumming with excited and nervous energy and you found your voice rendered useless.

“Gonna let me in?” He asked teasingly. You nodded, quickly stepping out of his way and shutting the door behind him. It was then you noticed a black duffel thrown over his shoulder. Before you had a chance to ask about it, he spoke up.

“Sit down,” he commanded. His tone of voice felt like someone zapped you with an electric current.

“Yes, sir,” you replied instantly, not even meaning to do it. But the way his eyes flared at your words told you he very much enjoyed it. 

You moved to sit at the dining table, hands shaking slightly from the anticipation of whatever was to come. The Billy currently in your apartment wasn't the one you were used to. He dumped the bag heavily on the table with a thud and your eyes were drawn to it before you looked back at him. He was standing tall beside the table, looking down at you, his hands clasped behind his back as his eyes regarded you in a way that made you squirm.

“Here's how this is gonna go. Safeword is tequila. You don't like somethin’, speak up. It's all about you, you don't gotta just roll with somethin’ ‘cause you think it's what I want. You have the power to stop it, but while I’m here, I’m in charge. I tell you to do somethin’, you do it or there'll be consequences. We clear?” He asked roughly. There was no smirk on his face now, it was serious as his dark eyes bore into you and you swallowed thickly. 

It wasn't lost on you the safeword he’d picked and you felt slightly reassured that while he was clearly asserting his dominance over you right now, he was also letting you know that ultimately, you were the one with the power to call it off. 

“Crystal, sir,” you replied, a wry smirk tugging at your lips. He didn't smirk or grin like you expected but you noticed his nostrils flare slightly and his shoulder roll. He unzipped the bag harshly then and inclined his head to it. You stood up to get a better view of what was inside.

Your breathing hitched a little as you rifled through the contents of what he’d gotten you. Even when you'd asked him for this you hadn't expected him to put so much effort into it. In a weird way, it was quite touching. 

“Anythin’ you wanna try, get it out and put it on the table,” he instructed. You picked out a silk blindfold, a pair of handcuffs and a paddle. You pushed some of the other things aside in the bag and saw a large black knife at the bottom. Your breathing hitched a little as you took it out, turning it in your hand as your mind ran away with itself. You glanced curiously to Billy then and his cool facade broke when a dirty smirk painted his lips, his eyes dancing with mischief and amusement. He raised one brow, almost in a challenging manner, goading you to see if you'd take the bait. You held eye contact with him as you set the knife on the table and he bit down on his lower lip as his eyes darkened. 

You turned back to the things you'd gotten out then. You didn't want to overwhelm yourself and you really wanted to try these out. Suddenly Billy was pressed right up against you from behind and you felt like you couldn't breathe. He’d always smelt good but right now it seemed to be intoxicating and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

“What’re your thoughts on temperature play?” He purred down your ear, making you shiver. Your brain felt hazy with him being so close.

“I uh… I’d like to try it,” you mumbled, feeling like you were drunk or high or some shit. He growled and you felt him tense up behind you, but then his large hand was gripping your jaw and roughly turning it to the side to look at him leaning over your shoulder. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that shouldn’t have you so aroused but it did.

“Wanna try that again?” He asked in a low voice. You swallowed thickly, taking a shaky breath.

“I’d like to try, sir,” you replied softly, wondering if that was what he was after. He smirked almost smugly then, slightly mocking as his hand eased up but didn't let go. He leaned in closer and you felt your head spin.

“Good girl,” he praised. You were pretty sure your panties were soaked at this point and you almost purred at his praise. His chuckle made you think he was quite aware of how much you liked it. For a moment, he leaned even closer and you were pretty sure he was going to kiss you. You wanted him to. But then he moved away, a devilish smirk on his lips as he raised his brows at you. He was toying with you. The very visible bulge in his pants let you know this wasn't something he was doing because he felt like he had to since you’d asked. He was very much enjoying this. 

“Bedroom, now. Get undressed,” He commanded firmly as he handed you the pile of items you picked. 

“Yes, sir,” you squeaked, excitement gripping you so tight you could barely breathe as you scurried off to your bedroom. You blew out a large breath when you got in there, trying to stop your head from spinning. This new version of Billy was something else entirely and way more than what you thought it would be. You set the items on the nightstand, the knife lingering in your hand for a long moment. Knife play was one of the more dangerous kinks you'd been fascinated by but there was no way you'd trust anyone else with it. You turned the knife in your hand a little, admiring it.

“Thought I told you to do somethin’,” his growl from behind you startled you and the knife clattered to the nightstand. You whipped around to face him with wide eyes. He looked angry, but you knew better. Something was dancing behind his eyes that told you he very much enjoyed the fact he had a reason to assert his dominance over you. It shouldn't have thrilled you as much as it did.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you murmured softly, watching him as he stalked over to you. His hand darted out, gripping your jaw and making you look up at his dark eyes. You felt breathless.

“What did I say would happen if you didn’t do as you were told?” He asked roughly. You swallowed thickly, body running with a fine tremor. 

“There would be consequences, sir,” you replied in a breathy voice. You noticed the way his eyes darkened a little and he stared at you for a long moment before letting go of your face.

“Hands and knees on the bed,” he ordered, his face like thunder as if waiting to see if you’d say no. You didn’t though. This was so far from vanilla and better than what you’d ever imagined. There was no way you were stopping this. You also wouldn't lie, seeing this version of Billy was intriguing and hormone inducing. 

Your heart was hammering as you went over to the bed and got on your hands and knees. You felt slightly embarrassed presenting yourself to Billy of all people like this but you heard a soft groan when you arched your ass in the air and you bit your lip with a smile. Your oversized sleep shirt had ridden up a little and your small lace panties were now on display. 

You glared at your sheets as you braced yourself for whatever might be coming your way. But then a sharp stinging erupted from your right ass cheek and you let out a mix between a surprised yelp and a moan. It hurt yet it felt good and you were confused but wildly turned on. It had felt cold and hard and you knew it wasn't his hand. It was the paddle. 

But then his large warm hand smoothed over the stinging skin, soothing the burning there and you arched back at his hand unable to help yourself.

"You're gonna learn to be a good girl for me," you heard his rough voice from behind you. 

"Yes, sir," you murmured instantly, like you were starting to be conditioned in your responses. He hummed, palming your ass for a moment, giving you ample time to say the safeword yet you didn't. You felt the second sting harder on your already sore flesh and you bit your lip with a moan. You lowered your top half, forehead pressing into the sheets as your thighs shook a little from how turned on you were. His hand once again soothed the skin afterwards and you pushed back at him. 

The third smack was the harshest and you whimpered, fists bunching in the sheets as you felt the pain and pleasure shoot right through you. You hummed when his hand softly caressed the skin you knew would be red and then you felt him place a kiss to it and you smiled through your delirium. You felt the bed shift behind you and then his hand smoothed up your back over your shirt. You closed your eyes and relished in the feeling but then suddenly he had a fistful of your hair and he gave it a tug, making you moan. He was leaning over your body, looming over you as he leaned in near your ear. 

"On your back, Y/N," his tone was commanding and low but he gave your neck a cheeky nip that was in contrast to the harsh grip on your hair. Your head was spinning. He let go and you wasted no time in rolling onto your back. You hissed a little at how sore your ass cheek was and you heard him chuckle darkly. Your eyes moved to him then and you saw the way his eyes dragged across your body as you lay there. You felt your cheeks heat up, basking in the way he seemed to drink you in. His eyes connected to yours then and he flashed you a slightly terrifying smirk. You couldn't tear your eyes away as he kicked off his boots and then pulled off his shirt. He kept on his camo pants as he moved to the nightstand. 

You weren't sure what he'd grabbed but then he was straddling you and caging you in with his long legs either side of you. He dangled the blindfold in front of you and your breathing picked up in excitement. When your eyes met his again, you could see he was giving you another chance to back out. You didn't though. You closed your eyes for him and he carefully placed the blindfold on, tying it gently. 

It was a strange sensation not being able to see. You felt vulnerable but you also knew you were safe with Billy. You had to rely on your other senses to figure out what was going on. He grabbed your wrists and put them above your head. You felt his thumbs softly swipe over them before you felt the cold metal of the handcuffs clip around one wrist. He tugged it closer to the headboard and you heard a noise before he pulled your other arm up and clipped the handcuffs around it. You tugged a little and realised he threaded them through the headboard, you weren't getting out of this anytime soon. You didn't want to. 

You felt him move away from you and you felt the loss instantly. You listened to his quiet footfalls as he moved off the bed and you found yourself laying there in anticipation. The bed dipped again but then your legs were bent at the knee, legs parted and he settled between them. 

"Stay still," he warned. You were unsure why until you felt cold metal dragging along your thigh. A soft moan left your lips and you concentrated on keeping your body completely still despite the desperate need to move. 

The blade trailed up your body and under your shirt. You felt it gently glide up your stomach and up your sternum. Then his other hand pulled the shirt taut and you heard the material rip as he cut in right down the middle. The air felt cold as the shirt pooled at your sides, exposing your breasts. You heard a growl rumble from him and your chest was heaving. You felt him lean right over your body, his breath hitting your ear and making you squirm.

"So goddamn beautiful," he purred, making you whine a little. 

"Sir… please, I wanna see," you pleaded softly, tugging at the handcuffs a little. You really wanted to see the knife. Wanted to watch him with it. You felt him lean up once more so you continued.

"Please, Lieutenant. Let me see," you begged desperately, not a care for how needy and wanton you sounded. 

The blindfold was yanked up roughly and your eyes struggled to adjust for a second. You were startled when he gripped your jaw in his knife free hand and leaned right into your face. 

"Say that again," he demanded, eyes wild and dark as he stared you down. 

"Lieutenant please, I wanna see the knife," you murmured breathlessly. He groaned, closing the distance as he captured your mouth in a dirty kiss. The first kiss he'd given you all night. You moaned and melted into it, willingly letting him dominate your mouth with his tongue. 

When he pulled away he was looking at you like it was the first time he was actually seeing you and all you could do was blink up at him dumbly for a moment. Then he was kneeling back up between your legs. Your eyes went to the knife as he twirled it in his hand. You bit your lip, eyes glued to it and he moved it back to your shirt. He sliced through the short sleeves so he could pull off the offending material and toss it across the room. His dark eyes were staring at where the knife was touching your skin, his lips parted a little. You took in the sight of him this turned on and felt something stir inside of you knowing it was you that was doing that to him. 

Your eyes went back to the knife as you felt it gently trace down between the valley of your breasts and to your stomach. You couldn't look away as the blade slipped under one side of your panties, slicing through the lace with ease. He moved to the other side then and repeated the same motion. His free hand grabbed the ruined panties and tugged them away and you felt your cheeks heat up at how his dark eyes devoured the sight of you wet and spread wide for him. When his eyes connected with yours once more, they were intense and you almost forgot to breathe. 

Then he was leaning over and tugging the blindfold back down and you whined softly at the loss of sight again. You heard him chuckle and then what sounded like the knife clattering on the nightstand again. Then he was up and off the bed and you were sure he'd left the room. You felt a sudden surge of panic despite knowing he just wouldn't leave you there like this. But you tugged on the handcuffs roughly as you wriggled around on the bed. The second you heard him come back into the room, you stilled completely. 

Your breathing was erratic, excited and anxious as you bit your lip and waited to see what would happen. You were sure he was being this quiet on purpose. Billy loved to talk yet he was being pretty quiet as he went about doing whatever he was doing. You were sure it was to keep you on edge and it was working. 

You felt him kneel back between your legs and you sucked in a breath of anticipation. You suddenly felt something hot drip onto your chest and you hissed a little, back arching at the sensation as it cooled. Hot wax, you mused. Nothing happened for a long moment but you didn't utter the safeword and eventually you felt it happen again. You moaned softly as you writhed, feeling it drip onto your breasts and stomach. You felt his large hand smooth up your stomach slowly and you arched up at his touch like you were needy for it. You wished you could see his face right now, see what he looked like as he did this to you. 

He grabbed your right breast firmly and then you felt the hot wax drip onto it and on your nipple and you let out a louder moan as your back arched. The whole thing was so sensual and you'd never experienced anything like it. He hadn't even really touched you yet, not where you were aching at least. 

You felt him shifting but he didn't move completely from between your legs. Your brain felt hazy from your arousal as you lay there helplessly and waited for whatever he had planned for you next. You gasped, body tense as you felt an ice cold sensation on your stomach. You mused he'd got some ice cubes from your freezer or something as you felt him slide it up your skin. You squirmed under the cold, squirming more as it trailed to your breast. He chuckled at how much you were moving and cursing under your breath when he circled your nipple with it. 

The cold was removed then and the trail of water the ice cube left behind left a chill on your skin. It was nothing compared to the sensation of a freezing cold mouth suddenly sucking on your left breast though. His tongue was icy as he lapped at it and suckled on it greedily as your back bowed a little as needy moans left your lips. He moved away and you let out a whine, almost pouting and making him chuckle darkly at your needy reaction. But then he was placing ice cold open mouthed kisses on your lower belly and spreading your thighs wide open with his hands.

You had no words for the noise you made when he gave you a teasing lick from your entrance to your clit with his cold tongue. You arched up at him and gasped as he started sucking on your clit greedily with a moan. You tugged at the handcuffs, a strong urge to pull at his hair nagging at you. He had you gasping and your thighs shaking in no time but before you got right to the edge, he moved away. 

"Whyyy?" You whined pitifully. A sudden but not too hard smack hit you right between your thighs and your exposed clit and you moaned in shock. You hadn't really expected being spanked there to turn you on, yet it really fucking did. 

"Behave yourself, sweetheart," his tone was warning and rough and it only served to send another flood of arousal through you. 

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," you murmured quietly, chest heaving as your body felt like a string pulled taut. 

"Good girl," he purred, his fingers dragging through your soaked folds and lazily circling your clit. You arched at his hand, needing more but not getting it. 

"So wet for me, Y/N. Bet you're needy for my cock in you, aren't you?" You could hear his smirk and you knew it would be the menacing one from earlier. 

"Yes, sir. Please," you begged, unashamed as you squirmed against his teasing fingers. He hummed as he slipped two inside of you and you gasped, mouth falling open. 

He was still teasing, fucking you at painfully slow pace with them as you moaned and pushed back onto them more, making him groan.

"Beg for it, sweetheart. Tell me how much you want this tight pussy to take my cock," he demanded roughly. 

"Billy, please. I don't want it, I need it. Please fuck me, just fucking destroy me," you pleaded wantonly. You figured your desperation was enough for him because he didn't punish you for using his name. In fact, he moaned at your words and his fingers suddenly left you. You felt him moving around, heard him unzipping his pants and practically rip them off rapidly. 

Then you were gloriously full with a large and thick cock in one swift movement and you let out a keening moan that blended with his deep groan. His large hands gripped hold of your hips roughly as he started railing into you like his life depended on it. You'd never been fucked quite like this before and your whole body was jostling from the force of it. You were moaning like a bitch, the noises tumbling from your lips without consent but you didn't care. His own pleased noises only heightened your pleasure and your back arched as you met each thrust. 

A dirty moan left his mouth and you felt him lean over you, felt the bed dip on your left side and then felt him lift your right leg and hitch it over his hip, spreading you even further. It seemed to make him go in deeper and you tugged at the handcuffs as you felt the need to find purchase on something as he fucked you at a savage pace. His moans were right in your ear now and you squirmed on his cock, making him growl and pick up his pace. 

You were already teased beyond comprehension and your moans got higher and higher the closer you got. You felt like you were dangling on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the moment you went careening off the edge. Another hard and deep thrust later and you were free falling. Your moans seemed to bounce off the walls as your back arched so much you'd probably look possessed. The hand on your thigh moved to your throat then, slender fingers applying some pressure as he fucked you. A second orgasm snuck up on you out of nowhere with that and you cried out as you writhed on his cock. His fingers tightened around your throat a little as he rut into you harder, sinful moans turning into feral growls as his thrusts got more erratic

You were floating on cloud nine when he let out a deep groan, hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside of you. His body sagged, leaning on you a little as he rested his head on your shoulder. You'd never felt this thoroughly fucked before and you were sure your brain had melted. You whined softly when he pulled out of you and you felt him move around. You felt the pressure on your wrists release and then the handcuffs being removed. He kissed the skin there softly and you smiled sleepily to yourself. Then the blindfold was gently being pulled away from your face. 

You hummed softly, forcing your eyes to open when you felt him lay down next to you. You squinted them as you blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the light once more. You rolled into your side to face him and you were sure you were glowing. He was already looking at you and he gave you a dopey grin, making you snort softly.

"Enjoy yourself?" He asked wryly. He had a slightly smug tone to his voice and you were sure it was because he knew damn well you did. 

"That was… the best birthday gift ever. You're uh… really good at the whole… sex thing," you murmured with a stupid smile, brain still not quite working. Something flashed behind his eyes at your praise and his smirk widened. 

"The sex thing, huh?" He asked, amused.

"Shut up, you fucked the brain out of me," you protested with a whine. He laughed, shaking his head as he moved to lay on his back. 

You watched him, fully expecting him to get up and leave now he'd fulfilled what he came for. Instead, he shot you a smile as he pat his chest, raising a brow at you. You wriggled over to him before laying your head on his chest, curling around him. His arms came around you then making you feel safe and you smiled to yourself. He stroked your hair softly as your eyes fluttered closed.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," he murmured sleepily. You hummed in response, already on the cusp of sleep after what he'd done to you. You had no idea if he'd be there in the morning and you'd worry about getting clean then too. Right now your body needed rest. You drifted to sleep feeling exhausted and like you were floating on a cloud. 

Taglist:

(If you asked to be added but aren't here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people for some reason)

@sam-hollandsgirl​

@xceafh​

@ssll2200​

@traditional-morrigan13​

@juniebugg​

@xonickibaby​

@lillianastras​

@aleksanderwh0r3​

@i-g-n-o-r-e--m-e​

@itsallaboutkey​

@papiazullll8​

@not-too-tall-for-trick​

@dontjinx-it​

@kaleidoscopegirl​

@voyevoda-thejoy​

@s-corpionem​

@blanchedelioncourt​

@elleatrixlestrange​

@strawb3rrydr3ss​​​

@odetostep​​​

@crowssixof​​​

@katedrexel​​​

@primadonnasdream​​​​​

@fortheloveofallthatsholy​​​

@supernaturalcat7​​​

@honeyshores​​​

@tanyaherondale​​​

@acourtofsnakes​​​

@weallhaveadestiny​​​

@tomhollandisabae​​​

@carnationworld​​​

@nemesis729​​​

@advictedtohim​​​

@lady4punk​​​

@thesandbeneathmytoes​​​

@kassandra-of-troy​​​

@blackbirddaredevil23​​​

@nebulastarr​​​

@ilkaeliseb​​​

@runawayolives

[brave-clarice]

“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 2

Again, some extremely unfashionably late hot takes.

(Special thanks to @kathrynethegreat and @special-agent-pendragon​ for encouraging another liveblog!)

Clarice is working out! And eating junk food! I love it.

and cleaning her gun!

hey, Ardelia is drinking what I’m going to assume is her grandmother’s “smart people tea”.

Krendler disciplining Clarice already is infuriating but appropriate.

“I lost control.” Oh no, I don’t like that. Don’t make Clarice unstable. Her mental and emotional state never had anything to do with her failing career.

getting weird mixed signals from Ardelia. Last week, she obviously didn’t want Clarice to lie/stick to the script Krendler gave her, but now she’s telling Clarice she messed up by not doing so...?

“I better know you if you’re calling this early.” Amen, Ardelia.

I’m in love: this cinematography is straight out of the film (when she’s flying to WV with Crawford)!

“When’s the last time you went back to Appalachia?” “It’s been years.” What??? It has NOT been years--Clarice was JUST in West Virginia last week as well as in Silence, and she arguably attended college there as well. (UVA is at least nestled in the mountains, and you don’t have to drive far outside the Albemarle Valley to hit Appalachia proper.) After all the details about her character they’ve been nailing, they miss this glaring error? 

I like the tiny details she’s noticing (like the guy biting his nails). Not only because she’s an investigator, but because it’s reminiscent of Hannibal’s influence (imo).

Clarice Is Short: The Saga continues

still not getting any creepy vibes off Krendler. He’s going to be much less effective as an antagonist if he isn’t lewd as well as a dick.

I really don’t care for the way the opening “credits” fade out from the death’s-head moth to Clarice’s face. There are MANY animals that represent her, or parts of her, in the books--lions, lambs, horses, and of course birds--so this choice feels empty and lazy to me.

also lazy: having a fellow agent straight-up tell her in episode 2 “you shouldn’t be in the Bureau.” Maybe in two or three years, after some further “Death Angel”-type incidents, I could see this blatant rudeness, but not yet.

“Reesey”? Thanks, I hate it.

this flashback must be of Clarice’s little brother. That answers one question I had last week. That said...Clarice’s brother doesn’t play the same role in her story that Mischa does in Hannibal’s--but this sure feels like a Mischa-esque flashback.

good: they’re finally getting to the source of Clarice’s actual trauma!

bad: this is NOT how Clarice found out about her father. In fact, that whole incident is laid out in detail in the novels, and there’s nothing overly literary/un-cinematic about it, so this feels unnecessary. “The police are here! Something happened to Daddy!” No, bad! Show, don’t tell!

she would’ve known better than to introduce herself to that kid as “Clarice Starling, FBI,” come on now.

were they regularly able to wire tap hair clips in 1993? 

actually, nothing in this show looks very 90s to me so far. I’m sad about it.

so in eighteen months, Ruth Martin has gone from a junior Senator to the Attorney freakin’ General, and now she might run for governor?? At least let her get settled in one position of power first, why don’t you!

yet more Buffalo Bill flashbacks...alas.

are they trying to make this guy another surrogate Hannibal character? He’s commenting on Clarice’s accent and the dryness of her skin, asking about who she “left behind”...it all feels very Hannibal. (I know he’s a Charismatic Cult Leader trope, too--but when played off of Clarice...)

“Ew.” “I hate this guy.” I laughed.

I understand that Clarice probably feels conflicted re: her siblings in the book, but I’m really not digging the flashbacks of this Tim Burton character her brother.

@ the writers: Clarice already has the lamb backstory/symbolism, too. We don’t need this Little Brother stuff.

*shrieking* Mrs. Starling! At the sink washing the blood out of his hat!!! 

...aaand they had to ruin it with the brother’s painfully bad dialogue. Will still be good for gif-making, though.

are we supposed to interpret all these flashbacks as Clarice being incapable of controlling her emotions/state of mind? She keeps losing herself in memories and emerging all doe-eyed and panicky. I don’t like it.

not to be a broken record but...Clarice should be TOUGH. Again, Ardelia only saw her cry once in seven years. But she’s more worked up in this scene than Jodie was in Memphis!

when Mr. Cult Leader shouts “Agent Starling! Agent Starling!” he sounds exactly like Hannibal calling her back to his cell in the asylum. That has to be intentional. 

damn, wish that I could look as good five minutes after I’ve been crying as Clarice does.

I LOVE that Ardelia gets to be the crucial behind-the-scenes book-smart partner to Clarice’s action heroine.

AG Martin’s just playing politics by turning a blind eye to the crooked sheriff. But when her own daughter was just kidnapped and almost killed, she looks like a real hypocrite.

gosh, Rebecca Breeds is great. I already hope she gets nominated for an Emmy.

so Krendler is...doing the right thing???

Clarice’s father was definitely not a sheriff. I hope she’s just exaggerating for dramatic effect. (Maybe this will be clarified later.)

she couldn’t just sit with a manipulative guy without getting emotional, but she’s cool as a cucumber while telling an extended story about her father? HmmMM.

sometimes her mannerisms and facial expressions are so much like Jodie’s that it’s uncanny, like here when she leans forward to confront the Cult Leader.

“She did it.” Damn straight!

another great callback to Silence. this show’s camera crew knows its stuff!

“He’s concerned I have some residual trauma from Bill.” I. Hate. This. Subplot--and all its OOC implications.

“Catherine was close to her father, too.” Ooh, a nice allusion to the novel! Clarice makes note of their “common wound,” the loss of a father, when she’s in Catherine’s apartment in Silence.

she is just SO pretty.

little Clarice looks a LOT like Rebecca Breeds. I hope we see some more of her. 

The Good:

the continuing visual nods to the Silence film via cinematography

Mama Starling!!!

Clarice’s “The World Will Not Be This Way Within the Reach of my Arm” attitude, refusing to leave without helping the victims.

Ardelia Mapp coming in clutch! 

Clarice being, generally, a badass

and using psychological tricks/mind games to pin the antagonist...that’s the woman who disarmed a monster with just a few words.

Rebecca Breed’s acting has been phenomenal so far.

I like Clarice’s haircut a lot better when worn down (though it’s not very practical for fieldwork, so we probably won’t see it much).

The Bad:

the continuing Buffalo Bill-related Trauma Subplot. Ugh.

all the flashbacks to Clarice’s brother (and the not-so-subtle suggestion that her brother is, symbolically, another lamb).

will the real Paul Krendler please come forward? this guy is so TAME.

the other agents’ hostility towards Clarice needs to be toned down slightly so that it can escalate. Otherwise, where’s the tension?

is this actually 1993? I’m not feeling it. Shouldn’t it have a little of that Season 1/2 X-Files aesthetic? Please give me more than once-an-episode references to pagers and fax machines!

that glaring Appalachia continuity error...it’s still bugging me.

I missed the overt Hannibal references, even though they’re not necessary to any part of this episode. A lady can dream!

Overall, I really liked this one despite my various issues with it. It started shakily but built to a great finish. The emphasis across both episodes on Clarice being in the FBI not just to “get out, get anywhere,” but out of a genuine desire to help victims has been wonderful. I just hope they don’t swerve too far into the “too traumatized and emotionally compromised to function” lane. It would be a disservice to Clarice’s character and to her journey (and would smack too much of “Hannibal really did prey on her weak mind/brainwash her”.

Things I’d still like to see: More of her personality. Her hobbies and interests. That she’s cleaning her gun is great! Now let’s see “Poison Oakley” practicing her sharpshooting skills. Or car shopping. Or clothes shopping to show off her “developing taste.” (Ardelia can come!) I’ll take literally anything. Give us more of Clarice’s sense of humor as well. She had some subtle funny moments in the pilot, and it’s nice to see Rebecca smile for a change.

And Krendler? Smear that man in grease! I appreciated a happy ending even though Clarice’s career is, as we know, already in a downward spiral--the last thing we want is for every episode to be a slog, especially when a good chunk of the audience hasn’t read the book and doesn’t know Clarice is doomed to fail in the Bureau.

However... Krendler’s not a “redemption arc” kind of character. Or even a “run-of-the-mill sexist asshole” character. This is a man who spent seven years systematically sabotaging a young woman’s career because a) he was jealous that she solved the Gumb case before him, and b) she wouldn’t fuck him. He was a Justice Department official working fist-in-glove with a serial child molester who was planning some of the heinous vigilante justice imaginable. THAT’S why his very gruesome end at Hannibal’s hands felt deserved--even Clarice thought so! In short, he needs to get nasty.

Anyway, thanks for coming to another long-overdue TedTalk. Fingers crossed that the next one will be more timely (aiming for Sunday night)! 

[revchainsaw]

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

Welcome to the Cult of Cult! I am Reverend Chainsaw and Today we read from the book of 1st Lycanthropy and indulge in a truly impactful cult film; John Landis' An American Werewolf in London. As far back as I can remember I thought that being a Werewolf would be nothing short of bad ass, but An American Werewolf in London totally delivers in the horror of the affliction, a task all to often ignored by werewolf films.

The Message

An American Werewolf in London tells the story of an American Werewolf in London. The name is a quite apt plot summary in the way of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. You will know exactly what you're getting with this movie. Two young American men known as Jack and David are backpacking across Europe and they find themselves on foot travelling across the moors of Yorkshire. They discover an unwelcoming pub known as the Slaughtered Lamb. They quickly put off the patrons and are ominously warned about beasts that are out on the moors, but are ultimately made to leave the pub. While out in the moors the two boys are viciously attacked by a mysterious creature.

David wakes up in a London hospital and learns that his friend and Travel companion Jack was killed by the beast. David is held by the hospital and begins a romance with a nurse named Alex. Alex eventually lets David crash at her place and things get spicy. But the whole time David is beset by dreams and visions of violence, and wakes up in strange places like the London Zoo. One of his most recurring visions is the phantasmagoric image of his dead friend Jack providing macabre warnings and exposition about exactly what David is going through. Jack urges David to kill himself before he fully succumbs to his lycanthropic curse.

David's budding romance with Nurse Alex, and medical professionals insistence that he's just a little twisted in the head from his trauma leads him to ignore these prophecies and he eventually undergoes one of the best looking werewolf transformations ever put to screen. David eventually does try to off himself but it's too late and as a wolf he terrorizes the streets of London until Alex is forced to witness him mowed down by a shower of police bullets.

The Benediction

Best Aspect: The Horror! The Horror!

As I mentioned earlier many Werewolf movies simply insist that being a werewolf is a scary thing, but they play the 'curse' like a superpower. The monster doesn't attack anybody who doesn't deserve it or something. In An American Werewolf in London the curse of Lycanthropy feels constantly dangerous for both David and the people around him. There is always a tension that the next person he hurts will be someone he loves. The other downside that just ups the misery of the werewolf experience is the painful transformation, the social stigma of being a maniac who thinks he transforms into a wolf, and the mental torture of your victims ghosts haunting your waking hours. It's a truly terrible fate that has never been portrayed as powerfully before or since. Werewolves are often badass but they are rarely scary. This is not a problem for this film.

Worst Aspect: Comedy?

An American Werewolf in London is often touted as a great example of Horror Comedy. But here's the thing, the comedy is not very comedic. I've never watched this movie for a laugh. As mentioned above the overall tone of this film is bleak and nihilistic. It's a miserable fate and the film doesn't play it for laughs. It's a horror movie with effective levity, but it is not at all a comedy, I don't care what John Landis thinks. If this is a comedy, it's a piss poor one. That's not really a problem for me though, the horror is good enough.

Best Dialogue: Bedside Manner

In one of the above mentioned moments of levity that might actually qualify as the only joke that lands is when Nurse Alex is dealing with a little boy who's staying at the hospital. This precocious runt is giving her a difficult time by playfully responding "NO" to everything she asks of him. She then asks if he's "ever been severely beaten about the face and neck?" and it's pretty freaking funny. But it doesn't play as a gag, as much as a little insight into the wit of Nurse Alex's Character.

Best Effect: Obvious Winner is Obvious

Google "Best Werewolf Transformation" and I'm sure you will see this exact scene. If you have never seen An American Werewolf in London I am certain you've seen this sequence. If you haven't then you are severely missing out. Stop reading this right now and look it up. This transformation sequence alone is worth watching this film for, the good news is that there is a pretty great horror flick on both ends as well.

Best Sequence: Nightmarapalooza

The best sequence of An American Werewolf in London is another absolutely overplayed and obvious answer. The Nightmare that David has in the hospital that features a violent invasion of gun toting, dog faced Nazis blowing the place to hell is pretty much a weird ass 80s metal music video in the middle of a werewolf movie and it provides just enough novelty to this film to set it apart from your typical full moon fare.

Honorable Mention: Moon's Out

There's full on butt in this movie. So if you like butt's. It's full of butt.

Summary

An American Werewolf In London falls into the category of movies that it almost feels like a waste of time to review, but it also falls squarely into the category of movies that are the whole reason that I do this for myself. This is a personal project of getting my feelings about these kinds of spooks out.

An American Werewolf in London is on an objective level the best Werewolf movie out there for your money. It's honestly a shame we don't have more, but we'd need about a hundred more before we can beat this picture. On a subjective level American Werewolf is still not my favorite. The carnage is slow to arrive, but when it finally does it is well worth the wait. The characters are not particularly charming or engaging. I spend a lot of time waiting for my favorite parts to happen and not particularly enjoying the spaces in between. Some horror flicks set up an atmosphere that just makes the whole film feel like a part of the cohesive horror experience and this movie doesn't. It has too much of a love story between two not particularly loveable characters. It's never a bad time to watch, it's just not as fun as you'd expect the "best horror comedy ever' to be.

To keep it short, An American Werewolf in London is a bleak and frightening monster movie with positively impressive special effects that hold up 40 years later. You have to see it.

Overall Grade: A

[peirates]

‘Did the Romans and ancient Greeks ... ?’

Google autocomplete is a gem and a curse. Inspired by @todayintokyo’s post on questions about Japan, I thought I’d have a look at what people are asking about Rome and classical Greece and, wow...

Christmas holidays leave a lot of time for milling around, so I’ll answer them in case anyone’s interested. (Please forgive me if any of this is incorrect/incoherent, it’s nearly 11pm as I’m writing this lol)

Did the Romans speak Latin?

Yes, Latin was Rome’s (and the Roman Empire’s) official language! Of course, many Romans or foreigners in Rome spoke other languages for the sake of communication, trade and education - Greek was particularly popular among the nobility - but Latin was what they all had in common.

Did the Romans invade Scotland?

Long story short, no. They tried, failed, and built Hadrian’s Wall to keep the ‘barbarian’ Gaels out - southern Britain was already too cold and muddy for the temperate Romans, not much point in losing more lives over more mud. 

(Hadrian’s Wall was what inspired Game of Thrones’ The Wall, as confirmed by G.R.R. Martin himself, but Hadrian’s was nowhere near as high, thick or long.)

Did the Romans have glass?

Absolutely! In fact, their skill with it was much more artistic and masterful than the average glassmaker today, just search ‘roman glassware’ here on Tumblr or on Google images to see what I mean.

Did the Romans invent concrete?

Yep! It’s famed for its durability, which is due to its contents of volcanic ash (Pompeii flashbacks), lime and seawater. The seawater reacted with the ash over time to give it its strength and anti-cracking nature.

In fact, the Roman method was so effective that it lasts for far longer than modern concrete (modernity/Westernisation =/= progression, it seems) and scientists today are trying to find ways to revitalise it.

Did the Romans eat pizza? / Did the Romans eat pasta?

Sadly not, only later Italians did. Their empire deserved to crumble for not inventing either smh.

Did the Romans invade Britain? / Did the Romans invade England?

They did indeed in AD 43 under Emperor Claudius, and they only began to withdraw in the late 300s when the city of Rome was being threatened by a Germanic tribe called the Visigoths.

Did the Romans invade Ireland?

No. Even now, archaeologists have no idea to what extent they communicated or even knew of each other.

Did the Romans celebrate Christmas?

Emperor Constantine only began converting the empire to Christianity from AD 313 (they had been pagan previously), and the earliest evidence we have of Romans celebrating Christmas was in 336 AD, very late in Roman history. Throughout most of Roman history, therefore, no they did not celebrate Christmas.

(They did have a festival which was similarly important and similarly timed (mid-December) called the Saturnalia. It also involved communal partying, gift exchanges and a general spirit of liberty (e.g. slaves could order around and punish their masters) - it was one of the most anticipated festivals of the Roman calendar. However, the purpose was very different: it was to worship the pagan god Saturn, the father of god-king Jupiter and the previous ruler of the world before its occupation by humanity. Namely, the festival marked a return to the ancient ‘Golden Age’ in which nature was dominant, peaceful and uncorrupted.)

Did ancient Greece have emperors? / Did ancient Greece have kings?

No emperors, traditionally Greece was comprised of city-states ruled by kings (or theoretically by the dēmos, the people, if you were Athens). Under Roman occupation it did answer to Rome’s leaders (consuls, then later emperors), but the idea of emperors was much more late-Roman than Greek.

Did ancient Greece celebrate Christmas?

Nope. It was originally pagan and did not celebrate any Christian holidays until a) it was conquered by Rome b) Rome later converted to Christianity, thus enforcing it on the rest of the empire. However, this conversion point was so long after the ‘heroic’ and ‘classical’ periods of Greece that by the time it did become mostly Christian, it was no longer ‘ancient Greece’ in the same sense.

Did ancient Greece have electricity?

Y’all are asking the real questions out here, that’s for sure lmao. 

Nope, electricity wasn’t used anywhere as a power source until Thomas Edison’s studies about two thousand years later.

God though, a good ol’ GPS would have saved Odysseus a lot of trouble.

Did ancient Greece and Rome overlap?

Oh, nelly...

Greece predated Rome by at nearly a thousand years, but Greece’s and Rome’s histories together lasted for centuries, even before the latter conquered the former. It’s why they are studied together as one field of academia. Many Italian settlements were in fact Greek colonies. Classical Greek helped shape Latin. Much of Roman religion was inspired by that of the Greeks. Many Greeks could speak Latin and many Romans could speak Greek. Roman art, philosophy and architecture was particularly fascinated by that which was Greek - to put it in meme format, the crab is Roman culture and the crocodile is Greek culture. And these are just the absolute basics, entire tomes have been written on Greece’s and Rome’s somewhat symbiotic relationship.

TLDR hell yes they did.

Did ancient Greece have a flag? / Did ancient Greece have a constitution?

Nah. Although history often refers to Greece as one country, one culture, it was more a collection of independent city-states with their own identities and constitutions. 

They all had three things in common: religion (+ the moral/social codes which came along with it), language, and (in most cases) enemies from abroad -  therefore in later centuries, as well as their city-based nationalities, they did all call themselves the Hellenes. If you were a fellow Hellenic, you’d be able to work and live in other Greek cities with less trouble than if you were to try, say, in a ‘barbarian’ land such as Persia. Greeks were civilised; everyone else was an uncultured brute. Hence, their sense of unity was more from fear of the outside, from xenophobia, than from internal harmony.

Because of this, there was never an altogether complete sense of assimilation. Different cities had distinct dialects, favoured different gods/cults within the wider Pantheon, often warred against each other (especially Athens and Sparta, whew), fed their own specific cultures and law-sets and reputations. Nationality and citizenship in that age were not really about country or region, the world was just too small for that. You wouldn’t say ‘Hi I’m Phoebe and I’m Greek’, you’d say ‘Hi I’m Phoebe and I’m from the city of Halicarnassus.’ The closest analogy I can really think of is the cities in the dystopian series, Mortal Engines.

So no, they didn’t have a single flag or constitution. There was just not enough unity between them all.

Did ancient Greece trade?

Initially I was going to wave this off as a silly question because ‘hurr durr everyone trades’ but ACTUALLY. 

Along with the rest of the eastern Mediterranean, Greece had its own Dark Ages between the fall of its early society (aka Mycenaean Greece) and the rise of Homeric-style poetry and culture, i.e. between the 1100s and 700s BC. Communication in general was absolutely awful: there were no great armies, no great cultural progressions, and yes, no substantial trade. The fact that Greece was then feeling down in the dumps also discouraged foreign trade. 

It took the bard Homer’s influence to get people to start thinking, creating, travelling and thus mass-trading again - this sudden surge in activity eventually led to Greece’s Classical Period, i.e. 4th century BC, you’ll probably imagine gleaming Athenian pillars. Increased thinking and culture led to increased politics/nationalism, increased p/n led to increased warring and military action, increased warring improved transport and communication, and WHOOSH suddenly trade took off.

So basically, Mycenaean Greek trade was good (as far as we can tell), Dark Ages Greek trade was shocking, Classical Greek trade was quite literally revolutionary.

Did ancient Greece have lions?

Yep! However, they weren’t like the sub-Saharan lions you’re probably imagining right now - those are Panthera leo, but the Eurasian lions that would have been in Greece were Panthera spelaea.

Nevertheless there were indeed lions and they played a huge role in Greek mythology and literature. The Nemean Lion was the first of Hercules’ Twelve Labours; Homer, the trendsetting legendary lad that he was, created a trope of comparing something innocent and vulnerable to something vicious and savage and desperate by using the analogy of a lamb and a hungry lion.

Did ancient Greece have a democracy?

Nope, only one city named Athens did. Don’t get me wrong, it was at the time and still is a big deal considering it hadn’t been done before, BUT there are three important things to note:

It was ONLY Athens which had a democracy - every other Greek city kept their kingships.

The Athenian democracy wasn’t what we’d call democracy. Only free, Athenian-on-both-sides men could vote and participate in local politics - this left out all slaves, all women (even if they were Athenian), and all foreigners or residents of foreign descent (no longer how long you and your family had lived in and worked in and contributed to the city and community).

It wasn’t foolproof considering it eventually got overthrown by power-seeking tyrants.

i.e. a part of ancient Greece had a democracy.

[gldncge-blog]

         ❝  ----------- 𝖆 𝖌𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖆 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊

                                    illya masnik. luke hemmings. twenty four. bianchi aligned.

【  ✞ ———— 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 】

◟ * ◊ ─  luke hemmings + cis male + he/him » * believe it or not illya masnik is working for the bianchi family. they are 24 years of age and are known to usually spend their time around buena vista apartments. the singer, who has been a part of the alliance for 2 years, has been living in victoria for 5 years. the people closest to them describe the pansexual + pisces to be + stolid and + conscientious as well as - equivocal and -resentful » ◦ ° delphi, twenty, she/them, est◝

【  ✞ ———— 𝕠𝕠𝕔 】

first name illya. last name masnik. middle name regret. which,, honestly same. wow hi i’m super excited for this. this is what ive been waiting for and y’all look hella talented. hi hello i’m delphi and as expected i’m late to the party :’) this is my bb illya who should probably be dead by now. yeehaw. my muses??? they exist to suffer. thats the sparknotes version of it. but ill put a whole unnecessarily lengthy thing about him below sdlkjsald. i’m in the est and i’m currently working full time but im so happy opening is on a sunday because i can actually be here for it sjkdas but enough about meme !! 

【  ✞ ———— 𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 】

BORN IN KIEV, UKRAINE - illya would be the eldest of four children. his mother an adventurous american woman, and his father a man who had never left his homeland. their son was a happy child who spent most of his days and nights at the local church. a fate one could not avoid when their father was the church’s ever dutiful music director. it shocked no one when the eldest masnik boy soon became a constant fixture in the youth choir. looking like he may have found his niche, his parents pushed him to hone his talents. his free time not spent in worship was reserved for vocal lessons. in time, illya outgrew the pews. as a teenager, he instead chose to perform in festivals, cafes, and the venues that would have him. while he was successful in ukraine, he’d soon decided he’d like to finish his studies in the united states, believing there to be better and bigger opportunities in america. 

AT NINETEEN - he found a home in victoria, florida. his mother’s hometown. his studies never truly panned out like they should have, wasting a year majoring in theology before officially throwing in the towel and returning to music full time. the next few years were spent building up a resume. odd jobs that barely paid the bills. things only began to turn up when he began landing jobs as the backing vocals for groups. it had started small, not much money in it nor recognition --- but he slowly climbed the ladder. an undeniable talent. in time he landed a job as the backup vocals for a band famous enough to earn him some status. the band embarked on a small tour around the states, and while it had been fun, illya quickly came to realize it wasn’t the life for him. in actuality it was not the spotlight he desired, no, he’d come to miss the little things about his passion. the smaller cafes and venues often led to tighter bonds. a more humbling experience that allowed him to truly connect with his audience. like the days back home, under god’s watchful eye. 

TWENTY TWO - and life as he knows it ends. for better or for worse. a flame in his life plants the idea in his head. the bills were starting to pile up again and desperation seemed to be a constant state. PLAYERS. it’s no place he’d normally be found. the sort of joint he’d sooner cross the street to avoid. but his lover promises security. stability. burdened with a touch of naivety, he’s sold.

PLEAD IGNORANCE - all he wants. he knew what he’d stepped into the moment he crossed the door’s threshold. there were no gods here. no savior. no salvation. you’d be eaten alive.

IT PAYS - wasn’t that all that mattered. most days he’s good at turning a blind eye to what happens behind closed doors. a false picture of innocence. skin with no traces of ink or metal, liquor that never makes it to his lips. the constant struggle to not lose the boy he was back home. but no one there was innocent, innocence was a lamb to the slaughter. two years in and he regrets it. of course he does. three long years since he’s seen his family. the masnik’s youngest now refuses to speak to the long-departed illya. birthdays, graduations, holidays, funerals, he’s missed them all. bitter, he longs for home, but fears he’s found himself in too deep. innocence was a lamb to the slaughter, and he could not afford to be the lamb amongst wolves.

【  ✞ ———— 𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 / 𝕕𝕦𝕞𝕓 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕥 】

essentially illya was born in ukraine. his family was super religious and he spent a lot of time in church, also due to the fact his father was the music director there. he obviously had a natural talent in the choir and his family helped him pursue music by getting him lessons and stuff. he does a good handful of cool stuff in ukraine and decides he wants to study in america ( where his mother and her family are from ) and also sees it as an opportunity to grow musically. obviously the scene in america is pretty hard to get into, so he still does small cafe like things until he starts doing backing tracks/vocals for bands. starts off really small but he starts to work for bigger bands/companies until eventually, he gets enough recognition to go on tour with a well-enough known band. don’t imagine them to be super famous, but enough to have a handful of radio hits. 

decides he’s not crazy about the touring band life and wants to return to working in smaller more personal venues. works for a bit until the money starts to run out and then his partner at the time suggested applying at players ( they would have been part of the gang so it was his in ). he does so ( obviously ) gets in and likes to play innocent but he has a pretty good idea of what he’s getting into, don’t be fooled. still kind of churchy / anal, doesn’t do the whole tattoo, piercing, drinking, wild life. he’s more reserved if anything. he’s really still trying to hold on to that holy life. newsflash, asshole. it’s gone.

now he’s starting to regret everything :) #somerugrats but obviously, he’s going to be super tightlipped about that and just carry on. in reality, he’s super homesick and he knows his family life is suffering. he’s missing giant milestones for his siblings back home and now his youngest brother won’t even talk to him so yeehaw. but uhh he’s not really sure he’d be good to just up and walk away because he’s in a bit deep now, two years deep. he’s probably seen some shit. 

if he was brave enough to tell his family something was up it would probably go something along the lines of “ mom, i think i joined a cult ” 

he wants to be that peace out gif THIS one,, yeah

he’s gonna die,, dumbass is 100% gonna get himself killed. but for now, he’s gonna fake that shit till he makes it. no chill. 

【  ✞ ———— 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 】

pen pals / old friends ; okay since his mother was american - i’d imagine he’d come around as a kid to see her family ( his grandparents and stuff ). give me something cute like they hit it off as children and kept in touch all these years. or maybe his mom used to be friends with your muses parents so they met that way. 

someone toughen him up ; he’s awful. there’s a murderer out there and god i hope these string bean legs can run because self-defense???? we don't’ know the meaning of the word. gun?? not in my good christian server. someone just hELP him.

someone he takes home / travels with ; head out of the gutter. could be someone at players or they live in a similar location, and with a string of murders, it’s probably safer to not travel alone. so maybe they drive each other home on occasion or walk together. just keeping each other safe. 

 bad / good influence nonsense ; obviously he’d probably be the good influence on someone because he’s not really the bad type. so he might try to look out for someone he really sees burning out and going down a super bad path. vice versa, give me someone who really wants him to get a tattoo or take that shot. someone remind him to live a little or do bad things. honestly,,, i’m a sucker for angst and stuff so it could even be more like getting him to stop being so paranoid about the darker aspects of the gang. if you think he isn’t turning around and hauling ass outta there when he sees a back room being used for beating someone or some other violent nonsense

someone who is suspicious of his doubts ; obviously he’s trying to play his cards pretty close to his chest and doesn’t voice his concerns to anyone. but i’d love to see some people who question his hesitance or might be on to him having doubts about continuing to be in the gang. he’s not going to own up to any accusations but this could add some interesting tension and make for interesting interactions.

people he avoids at all costs / fear ; these would be the more violent members of the gangs. maybe your muse has a reputation. this is probably suitable for characters who are out there committing murder in the name of the gang or commit violent acts. he tries to steer pretty clear of that but they’re likely passing through players and stuff. they’re bound to run into each other. bonus points if they’re not actually as dangerous as they seem - illya’s just paranoid, maybe he walked in on something he shouldn’t have and i- OOP

the flame that got him involved in the gang ( 0 / 1 ) ;  really i was just gonna throw this up as a wc but sdjsadj ill stick it here as well. really this could be an exes plot, probably with a lot of resentment on illya’s part. he may have been open with them about wanting to go back home, and blames them for his situation even though he knew what was happening. its just bitter bitter bitter. 

[theprojectatedensgate]

Part 2 of John losing his memory PLEASE that was such a good story PLEASE MAKE A PART 2!!!!😢😢😂😂😊😊

You’ve waited a long time for it! It’s finally here!

Amnesia Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: Swearing, Graphic Violence

The buzzing of Cicadas outside the cracked window were their only company as their nose was deep in a book. Old, worn and torn, the pages truly displayed its age. The warm orange of a similarly worn lamp lit up the room against the cool tones of the Montana night sky. Cosy? It wasn’t a long enough word to describe the comforting warmth of the room, the beauty of Hope County’s scenery just barely lit under the pale of moonlight. A week since the crash, seven dragging days, though it felt longer, each day of the week dragging by as their radio sat bitterly silent. Anxiety tugged at Rook’s gut as they shared a stealthy glance towards the silent box sat upon their dresser, the glass of ice tea glistening as the condensation dripped downwards forming tiny pools upon the wood.

They shouldn’t care, could they even call it that? The man they had saved from the confines of a wreckage in a forest, the epitome of the depravity of the human race, hell, they weren’t certain he was human at this point. But the law always Rook’s priority they treated him like any police officer would with an endangered civilian. It shocked them, they had the chance right there and then to end the calamity he was bringing about the world in the name of God and his Project, instead choosing the right thing to do, northwards on the moral compass. And after what felt like hours but was only passing minutes, it disappeared into the dark like the promise of meeting up with old friend who became too grown with their adult lives, it simply faded into nothingness. They had heard whispering’s true, muttering conversations of the Cultists that only served to knock the wind from Rook’s gut. 

“How is brother John doing now? That crash really set him back.”

“Well, he’s alive, we can give him that much. But he hasn’t been the same. He rarely speaks now, he’s stares at walls like the answer to question he needs is hidden in the cracks. His spirit is gone, all we can do now is pray the God will restore it.”

The bile rose in the Deputy’s throat as the words sunk in, constantly playing over their mind like a botched script. The man was evil, no doubt about. Had it been them from the crash he probably would have finished them off. They despised him, abhorred him completely but even in the depths of hatred born from antagonism, they wouldn’t, they couldn’t, wish such a fate upon him.

A hiss snapped them from thought, the letters of the book dwindling from their concentration. They shot their attention to the source of the night, a familiar bile rising once more to nip at their throat. Rook’s radio. The once silent box now a buzz with life. The interference danced momentarily, before a familiar voice poured from the speakers.

“Deputy.”

Rook took a sharp inhale of breath. He was there, he was speaking, he remembered. They fumbled for the radio, bringing it towards them. Their mouth flopped uselessly as they thought of what to say. Mock him? Ignore him entirely? It was dangerous to speak to the enemy, lest the resistance find out. Gathering their courage, they pushed the button down to speak.

“John.”

A sigh came from the end, Rook rolled their eyes at his pettiness. If he called to gloat, they would just switch the radio off right now.

“My men told me… I was in a crash, my plane suffered a… Technical difficulty. I didn’t believe them, I am one of the best pilots in Hope County, I would even go as far as to say “the”. But they told me that I hit my head, I had landed in some God forsaken part of woodland, alone.”

The Deputy waited for him to continue, waiting for him to come through with a threat of violence. Static hissed in the silence.

“I don’t remember any of it. But they do. They remember getting a call from someone, telling them of my whereabouts. And that’s not suspicious in itself.” Ever the lawyer. “Except who made the call, was the real mystery. Deputy.”

“ Yes, John. I saved you. I saw you crash, I reached your location and called the guards to come get you. It’s all very interesting, I know. I did what I had to do, as an officer.”

He tsked. “You really expect me to believe that?” The last word spat with venom. “After all the innocent people you’ve killed? All the lives you’ve ruined? The families, you’ve torn apart? It took me a week to get back to normal, but I’m not stupid.”

“What do you think? That I rescued you because I care in some way? I did it because my conscious wouldn’t let me get away with it, it was the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do… Intriguing. And how did the resistance fair once you told them of your heroic endeavour? Were they pleased? Did you get a parade?”

Rooks knuckles turned white as they gripped the radio, squeezing the plastic. They had to keep calm, this is what John did, what he always would do. Provoke.

“I didn’t tell em’.”

There was a silence, and John chuckled lightly on the end, confusion nestling into the Deputy’s mind.

“You didn’t tell them of your bravery? Why would you deprive them of such a thing?”

“Because- Because I would have been shot that’s why. Hope County Deputy saves sadistic Baptist of Eden’s Gate, John Seed? I would have been executed.”

John hummed through the speakers. “Good titles. But, I thought you were doing the right thing, Deputy.”

“It was.”

“So, if it was the “right thing” then why would the Resistance in all it’s morality and cause for “good.” execute you, for doing the right thing?”

Rook paused. An uncomfortable understanding sunk in. It was a good question, surely they would be praised on rescuing a man despite their difference, putting the war aside to save them. But the Deputy had witness what happened to “traitors”, lining them up against the wall and dropping them one by one. A sickness spread through their abdomen at the images of grey matter sprayed against the walls. An amused chuckle broke their thought.

“You can’t even give me an answer for that. Because you know, just as well as me, the Resistance isn’t all it’s made out to be.”

“You know what? Fuck this. I’m going. I’m not wasting my time listening to you rant on about the war.”

“But you’re the ones who started this war. Why start it if you cannot commit? All we wanted, was you all to say Yes to the Project and Yes to God. The Resistance wanted a war, they always have. Look at what you just confessed to me, you cannot let them know of an innocent, life saving deed because it will cost you your life. People who kill at any slight of opinion. People who desire control.”

“That sounds a lot like you and your cult, John.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Okay, no. Enough. You’re not going to convert me so stop right there. I saved your life but that doesn’t mean I’m one of you!”

“There’s that wrath. Always so eager for conflict, just like your friends. Hmmm, you know what they need? To see how much of a martyr their Deputy is. They would be over joyed at hearing about your rescue mission.”

The Deputy narrowed their eyes. He was blackmailing them. Shame washed over them, they should have expected it, moral obligation over took their judgement. 

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“Deputy, that’s a nasty word to use, we’re reaching an agreement, a deal if you would. I bought you something, my way of saying thank you, I would like you to meet me, tomorrow, sundown, at the Lamb of God church, alone. Don’t bring any of your Resistance friends, Boomer is an exception of course. I’ll give you my thank you present and we can both be on our way, we will never speak of it again.”

“You bought me something?” Rook groaned, reaching a hand to rub against their forehead. “How do I know this isn’t a trap? You really think because I saved you that I trust you? I don’t, not in the slightest.” 

“You have my word.”

They could almost hear the grin as he spoke. They sighed as they reality of their situation hit them. They would have to go meet him, then this whole thing could be forgotten, like John’s memory of that night. They would go armed of course, and they wouldn’t wait around, making a quick exit.

“Fine. If you try anything I swear your God and mine, I will kill you. I won’t even hesitate.”

John tittered, his laughter vibrating through the speaker. “Of course you will. I’ll see you soon, Deputy.”

The static ended and the room was plunged into silence, the gentle whispers of leaves blowing in the wind and late night insects providing the backing track. They lay flat on the bed now, the book splayed open on their chest. It was a bad idea, the whole thing was tainted. The youngest brother never did anything that he wouldn’t benefit from. But this was Rook, they had taken on hundreds of Cultists and lived to see the next day, they could handle themselves. So when tomorrow comes, and the sun starts to set, they’ll be ready. They will take the gift and leave. Done and dusted.

And it would all be Forgotten.

Thank for requesting!

[atthevogue]

“Stop Making Sense” (1984)

The basics: Wiki | IMDb | TVTropes

Opened: Jonathan Demme and David Byrne’s Talking Heads concert film opened the second week of March 1985. It ran for a few weeks, and by early June was showing at Village 8, the local second-run theater. It was revived at The Vogue in July, and ran a few times a month through 1986 and 1987, usually as the second-to-last or last show of the day. 

Also on the bill: Opening weekend, it shared a very unlikely bill with the slow-burning 1975 Australian film Picnic at Hanging Rock. It also shared some more tonally appropriate bills with Buckaroo Banzai, Amadeus, Fellini Satyricon and another Australian cult favorite, Bliss. A few times, of course, it was inevitably programmed before the monthly midnight screening of Rocky Horror. 

What did the paper say? Given its status in years since as the great rock concert movie of that (and any) era, there wasn’t much coverage at the time. The Courier-Journal’s regular film and theater critic from the late 1940s through the early 1990s, William Mootz, didn’t appear to see it. Janet Maslin’s glowing New York Times review was run instead, as was common practice for smaller movies. Vince Staten, the vaguely curmudgeonly but always insightful TV critic of the 1980s, wrote a few years later when it came out on VHS that "quite a few people, myself included, thought it was the best rock-concert movie ever made.” In 1987, towards the end of its run at The Vogue, a weekend roundup in the paper’s Saturday edition highlighted it, calling it "a cult in the making" that was “building a faithful following in its repeated engagements at the Vogue Theatre.” The headline was “’Stop Making Sense’ is making lots of cents.”

What was I doing? I was between six and eight years old. It was unrated, so I certainly could have seen it, though neither of my parents were Talking Heads fans, and I don’t think it would have occurred to them to take me -- this is the kind of thing my cool aunt would have considered taking me to see. Maybe I am giving myself more credit than I deserve, but I think I would have liked parts of it quite a lot.

In a mid-sized town like Louisville in the 1980s, I imagine fringe culture tended to consolidate itself into small, overlapping groups. Bookstores, bars, music venues, video stores, coffee shops and art galleries serving the same audiences all overlapped in their programming to some extent.

The Vogue, in addition to showing the movies we’re talking about here, was also an occasional music venue. Its musical programming served a roughly parallel function to its cinematic programming: it was an outlet what used to be called “alternative” culture. A number of Louisville’ earliest punk and new wave shows, in the late 1970s and early ‘80s, happened there. 

In fact, on that note, I have an eBay alert set up for “vogue louisville” so I can grab any Vogue-related memorabilia that comes through. Almost nothing does, though recently there’s been someone trying to unload a ticket stub for an Iggy Pop show presented there in partnership with the Kentucky Center for the Arts in 1990. The sort of person who might go see Iggy would also likely be there for the showings that week, which included Pump Up the Volume and Pink Floyd The Wall. Neither of those were exactly countercultural circa 1990, but were certainly adjacent. (Incidentally, I’m a little tempted to buy that Iggy ticket, but it doesn’t even have the name of the Vogue printed on it, so it doesn’t seem like it’s really worth it for my purposes. Still, there it is below.)

Jonathan Demme’s Stop Making Sense played the Vogue for about two years. Though that was a lot longer than most rock movies, it was far less than, for example, Led Zeppelin’s The Song Remains the Same, which played for ten years, or the aforementioned Pink Floyd The Wall, which showed regularly for almost fifteen, right up until a year before it closed. This tells us that while the Vogue catered regularly to a new wave crowd, their economic bread and butter was either aging boomers or stoned college kids who remained in an oblivious dope haze throughout the events of the 1980s (or possibly both).

But a few times a month for two years indicates there was a healthy interest in Stop Making Sense among a fairly sizable portion of Louisville’s young cultural elite. There were a lot of weirdo bands in Louisville in the mid-1980s, loosely aligned with punk but a little artier, and I wonder how of them were in attendance. Once again, this is one of the big problems with this experiment: watching a lot of these movies on a streaming service on a TV all by myself is so unlike seeing it projected on film in a communal setting with a roomful of people that it barely qualifies as the same experience. It’s like trying to write about having a dinner at the French Laundry by eating a Trader Joe’s frozen quiche lorraine over the sink in your kitchen. Koyaanisqatsi loses a lot in this format, and Stop Making Sense may lose even more.

Koyaanisqatsi, which was also on the midnight movie circuit about the same time, is a fully immersive experience, like Stop Making Sense. Demme’s movie, though, goes a step beyond immersion by inviting active participation. It’s shot from the perspective of the audience, with no reaction shots or backstage interviews, and since the audio was recorded digitally, it was crystal-clear, or as crystal-clear as the P.A. allowed at the Vogue. Probably the sound and sights were, in some way, superior to those you might have seen at that Iggy Pop show live in person. Most of the reports from the time -- not in Louisville specifically, but in many places -- make note of people dancing in the aisles. I can imagine it must have been a similar scene at the Vogue.

As a director, I didn’t give any thought Jonathan Demme up until a few years ago. I’d seen Silence of the Lambs, and liked it OK, and although I adored Swimming to Cambodia, I thought that had more to do with Spalding Gray than Jonathan Demme. In a stirring reminder, though, that the internet can still cough up truly remarkable documents that change the way you see the world, I stumbled across this Jacob T. Swinney supercut from 2015. I remember opening it, and scoffing to myself, “oh, so Jonathan Demme is like an auteur now?” 

Obviously I was way, way off-base. Three-and-a-half minutes later, the video had made a total convert of me. The way those faces looked at you -- clearly there was something here. I rented all of them over the course of a few weeks, through his early and middle period, from Melvin and Howard through Married to the Mob. I came away with the sensation of falling in love, partially with way of making movies but also with a whole worldview. Demme’s movies find a way to be incredible stylish assemblages of the best parts of North American culture (all accompanied by incredible soundtracks), and also turns its attention to oddballs, misfits and outcasts with a loving gaze that manages to be both amused and compassionate.

Stop Making Sense does all of these things. David Byrne is not warm, exactly, but his arch sense of humor is endearing, and of course he’s one of the great eccentrics of late 20th century American culture. And he’s surrounded by a gang of musicians that seem like they’re right of out of a Demme movie, like the house party at the end of Swing Shift or the Miami hotel pool in Married to the Mob: Chris Frantz in funny-dad mode with a very un-rock-star polo shirt, Bernie Worrell mugging at the camera, Tina Weymouth looking cool in a succession of power suits, Lynn Mabry and Ednah Holt providing synchronized commentary throughout.

It’s only at the end that Demme, as if he’s been teasing you by withholding them, allows some audience shots to sneak in. They look like the sorts of sweet, goony people you’d hope to meet at a Talking Heads show. After every Demme movie, there’s a sense that you, too, could be part of a global community of weirdos who take care of one another. 

I can tell you from experience that being weird in a place like Louisville, a town that can be both rigidly conservative and indulgent of eccentricity, could be sort of a lonely experience. It was also the sort of place where there were enough of you out there that you usually found each other somehow. I hope a few of the members of that Demmian-Byrnian community, all out at the Vogue on a Saturday night dancing in the aisles, caught a glimpse of one another when the lights came on.