#< that's the designated terror building tag

[m4wc3]

the ship arrived!!!

[horriblegoosefest]

A Design For Life

By: @Maesterchill Paring(s): Drarry Rating: E Word Count: 76,887 Warnings/Content: Implied/referenced sexual assault, terrorist attack, implied/referenced monsterfucking Goose:

Tags:

enemies to lovers, time travel, hogwarts eighth year, post-hogwarts, depressed Harry Potter, magical accidents, drinking games, talismans, magical empathy perfume, potions, sex pollen, implied/referenced terrorism, doppelganger, the ministry of magic is corrupt (Harry Potter), auror corruption (Harry Potter), safehouses, captivity, prison, implied/referenced sexual assault, terrorist attack, minor character death, drugs, drug addiction, coma, magical theory (Harry Potter), magical artifacts, ley lines, magaliths, road trip, ireland, boat trip, Gilderoy Lockhart the self insert writer, Pebble Potter (OC), minor Draco Malfoy/Gregory Goyle, Greg Goyle is good at sharing, implied/referenced monsterfucking, bathing/washing, adventure, mystery, on the run, runes, rituals, race against time, wanking, sex, ancient magic, getting together, brief suicidal thoughts, angst and fluff and smut, angst with a happy ending

Summary:

Harry Potter doesn't want to become an Auror. And Draco Malfoy would quite like to stay alive and out of harm’s way. Neither have any desire whatsoever to time-travel into the future, especially not with each other. But fate? Well, she has other plans.

A honk of appreciation from goose @citrusses:

You are not prepared for this time-traveling, mind-bending romance from the incredible Maesterchill! This is a fast-paced fic fueled by page-turning* (*browser-scrolling) action that still finds time to be packed with humour, scorching sex, and incredible character development. Harry's narration is pitch-perfect: the way he feels about Draco evolves from such a wonderfully prickly resentment (not to mention finding him frustratingly gorgeous) to something absolutely soul-consuming. I had such a wonderful time watching Maester build this magnum opus, and I am so excited for the rest of you to experience it!

[withasimplelobsterhat]

This has been in my drafts for over a week I completely forgot about it! Here's a list of comics references and other things that I spotted in Dead Boy Detectives

- in episode 1 Charles says he misses spaghetti, in Jill Thompson's graphic novel we learn that he won a spaghetti eating contest when he was alive

- in episode 2 Charles and Edwin say the phrases "day officially saved" and "job officially jobbed" which is what they say in part 1 of schoolboy terrors after "rescuing" the painting

- in episode 3 the words behind the library desk are designed to look like the 2001 graphic novel cover art

- it was mentioned on the preview panel that a character in episode 4 is wearing a jumper that is a replica of one of Neil Gaiman's and that was what Dagfinn was wearing I think

- in episode 5 Richie is wearing a Doom Patrol tshirt, the doom patrol show is where Charles, Edwin and Crystal (and the night nurse) first appeared on TV

- in episode 7 we see Crystal's parents preparing for an art exhibition, the same one that Charles and Edwin rescue Crystal at in the comics, with "art is theft" written on the building

- in episode 8 on Charles and Edwin's closed cases board we see "run ragged dogs" which is the case that was the start to the 2013/14 run

- also I like to think that the intro having the skeleton posing like Sherlock Holmes is a nod to how much Edwin mentions Sherlock in the comics (a lot)

I'd love to know if there's any other references to the comics because I'm sure there's more that I missed

Adding a tag for @hatterandahare because you asked for the list of what I spotted :]

[villainofmyownstory]

Day Zero chapter 4

masterlist | taglist | AO3

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pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x plus size fem!reader

summary: Your horror and fear after what happened at the town hall are mixed with hope. Unfortunately, the newly met man in the mask doesn't make things any easier for you. He is stubborn and distrustful. However, when night comes, he takes you to his only safe place. To his house. Home.

tags: AFAB reader, plus size reader, dog german shepherd, weapon, suicide

author's note: I decided to post a new chapter today, unfortunately I'm having a worse time in my life again…. I hope it will get better soon. The longest chapter so far, let me know what you think.

Warning!! Mention of a suicide attempt, if you don't want to or can't read this, skip the parts where day 64 is referred to. Your mental health is more important! Take care of yourself, dear reader.

AO3

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Chapter 4: The one where you visit Ghost's house

Day 732

Getting to the tower by car definitely shouldn't take as long as your hike. The distance to cover, from the center to the suburbs, did not seem so far. You both remain silent the entire way. Ghost keeps looking in the rearview mirror while driving. As if he had to make sure you were still sitting on the trunk. When it reduces speed or (worse) brakes to almost zero on the odometer. His gaze focuses on the mirror. As if the man expected you to take advantage of the opportunity and jump out of the car, taking Riley with you. You will run away and disappear, just as you suddenly and unexpectedly appeared.

Admittedly, you had no intention of doing so. Quite the opposite. You wanted to stay. Even though the man was hostile towards you, you were sure of that. Damn, he wanted to shoot you!

Like a hunter hunting a defenseless deer. A sniper in war, shooting at a designated, nameless target. Without blinking an eye, in cold blood, in one breath. Shot. Exhale. End.

Without even exchanging a word with you. Without asking you anything. Not wanting to know anything. One shot and you're done, you wouldn't even feel it. He pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Remembering what happened a dozen or so minutes ago, you clench your hands into fists. Rubbing the material of your gloves against each other. Feeling the rough material slide over the skin of your hand. You try to focus exactly on that feeling.. You don't want to let fear and terror get the best of you. Breathe, slowly. Don't let these bad thoughts defeat you. Luckily for you, the man didn't do anything to you. Maybe he is also a lost and lonely man. Who is slowly losing his mind under these circumstances. He can't cope. Just like you.

You swallow. The hands are still tightly clenched into fists. Your hands are sweaty from stress.

The sun slowly hides behind the buildings, getting darker with each passing minute. The night is getting closer. The car is traveling at a higher speed. There are fewer and fewer buildings, they are probably suburbs, so you are getting closer to your goal - the tower.

You have to be strong, not show weakness. Focus. To listen carefully. Observe.

Although it's all Ghost, he has the upper hand. He has the most important argument and strength - he has a gun. Also, he's in his own territory and is undoubtedly a man with military training. He's taller and better built than you. Definitely stronger and athletic. Yet you try to control another panic attack, you won't give in to him so easily. You may not be in a lost position. You just have to convince him somehow. After all, somehow he has to believe that you came here alone. If you gain his trust without lying to him, maybe he'll let you stay. You don't really have anywhere to go back to. That house somewhere far away wasn't fit to live in for another winter. No heating, a leaking roof, you could list more defects. And the food supply in the area was running out, you found almost everything edible. You didn't know if it would be safe to return to that place.

You swallow. Your hands are still clenched into fists. Sweaty from stress.

The sun slowly hides behind the buildings, getting darker by the minute. The night is getting closer. The car is traveling at an increasing speed. There are fewer and fewer buildings, probably suburbs, so you are getting closer to your goal - the tower.

You have to be strong, not show weakness. Focus. To listen carefully. Observe.

Without a doubt, the whole Ghost guy, has an advantage over you. He has the most important argument and power - he has a gun. Besides, he is in his own territory and is undoubtedly a man with military training. Higher and much better built than you. Stronger. Athletic. But, if you are trying to control another panic attack, you won't give in to him so easily. You may not be in a lost position. You just have to convince him somehow. After all, he has to believe in some way that you came here alone. If you gain his trust without lying to him, maybe he will let you stay. You don't really have anywhere to go back to. That house somewhere far away, is uninhabitable for another winter. There's no heating, the roof is leaking. And food supplies were running out in the area, you could find almost anything edible. You don't know if it would be safe to go back there.

This town you are in now is the only one of the larger ones in this area. He seems to be better organized, definitely better than you. You haven't even found a car in working order with at least a little bit of fuel in the tank. So maybe it's better to stay with him. It will be easier to survive. Maybe the two of you can find other people?

Maybe the man knows something more, maybe he knows about a settlement, a safe place? Some larger group of living people? Maybe there is some hope.

Meeting this man caused a small spark that some future might exist.

Although it is probably not difficult, you have never been able to plan or predict. You lived in the moment. Not worrying too much about what the next day will bring. Not really taking into account.

The consequences of your actions or, inversely, your inaction. It's time to grow up, the worried voices of your parents echo in your head. Well, maybe you should have listened to them.

You sigh and look away from the passing suburban landscape, still lost in your own thoughts. You look down for a moment, at your protruding belly and wide thighs. You haven't even lost much weight in the last two years. You blame it on your bad, inappropriate diet. You mainly ate carbohydrates and cans of ready-made or sweetened food. You found any canned vegetables less and less often. Lots of cans of carbonated drinks and lots of sweets. Not to mention salty snacks. It was easier that way. Everything had long expiration dates and was tightly packed. Thanks to this food, you satisfy your hunger and provide your body with endorphins. Fighting with your own bad, dark thoughts, when you had supplies of food and drink. You simply lay in bed on the mattress for weeks. Vegetating, waiting. Counting on... you didn't know what.

You look back at the passing landscape, individual buildings and road signs. City exit sign, highway exit, empty fields.

You regret that in the past you were never interested in the army. You didn't even know what military unit this man was from. The only thing that was clear to you was the British flag attached to his uniform. Maybe it meant something? Perhaps he was here for a reason?

Even now, when the cold of the coming evening and the breeze caused by the speed of the car caress your cheeks and exposed neck. This causes goosebumps and reddened cheeks. It was bearable, the feeling of cold wasn't really that bad.

The most significant thing is that you no longer have to walk.

The important thing is that after so many days you at last found hope.

The fact that you are finally not alone.

You choose not to think about it any longer, clinging to Riley, thanking him without words for saving him. You calm down a little.

When you finally arrive at your destination, the man hurriedly gets out of the car and opens the trunk with a gun in one hand.

“Riley stays with me”

If you don't mind the penetrating chill of the coming evening, the coldness in the man's voice definitely makes you shiver.

‘And you, woman, go into the building and tell your people to leave. I have you in my sights all the time.’

You don't have the strength to argue with him. Another exchange of words makes no sense at this point. You dream of eating something and finally taking off those damn shoes. Your legs hurt so terribly. Subconsciously, you already know that a verbal battle with this man is pointless now. He won't believe you anyway, he has to see for himself. See what you keep telling him.

One thing you were sure of right from the start. This guy was definitely confident and he didn't tolerate a word of disagreement, he knew best. Stubborn. Probably soulless, a killing machine. Who knows what bad shit he'd done in the past?

So as you slowly walk towards the building next to the tower, you wonder if your back might get shot. Simple and clear. He will execute you and this will all be over. Perhaps it would have been better. Maybe that was your end.

Fate. Destiny.

Maybe these two years of loneliness and torment were supposed to end this way. Your body will remain near the tower as a warning to other travelers. If anyone but the two of you had survived this long. Because during these few months, without seeing any sign of another person's life, you began to believe that you were completely alone. That somehow you were the only one who survived.

Day 64

You

You didn't think the crisis would come so quickly. That you will lose faith. You didn't see any solution to the situation, or there never was one.

You weren't the type of person who was sad, emotional, or prone to depression. You were always a ray of light, a cheerful green pea, as your dad used to say.

But now, as more days passed, more days of darkness, emptiness, silence. Fucking loneliness.

You couldn't handle it.

You have stopped looking out the window for hours, hoping that your loved ones will come home.

That some familiar face will save you. That someone will break the silence.

The worst were the sleepless nights. Curled up somewhere in a corner or hidden in a bathroom, somewhere in a room without windows. As far away from the outside walls as possible.

You gave up really fast. And you made one most important decision. And that day, early in the morning, when the first rays of sunlight appeared in the sky. You left the house at a brisk pace and easily reached your destination without stopping. Standing in front of the abandoned pharmacy, you knew why and for what you had come here. Without blinking an eye, you went inside and quickly found the right packages and took them from the shelves. Then, just as efficiently, you hurried back to the empty family house.

However, as you crossed the threshold of the building, the familiar smell, so close to your heart reached your nostrils. Home, the family nest. The door slammed behind you and then, for the first and only time, you hesitated.

Just as you had done for years, now, you called out to the empty rooms.

“Mom? Dad? Sis?... I'm back..."

Silence.

Nobody answered.

Emptiness.

So that was a sign, no one was there. And the decision was made, there was no turning back.

Sitting down on a chair in the dining room, you carefully unpacked the contents of the packages you brought. Earlier, you prepared a kitchen mortar and a glass of water.

Slowly, systematically, one by one, you place tablets of different sizes on the bottom of the agate dish. You don't know what quantity is right. Probably the bigger the better. The more the faster. The larger the quantity, the much painless it should be. You hope so. End the pain. Put an end to this misery.

Stirring slowly with a heavy stone pestle, you don't worry that some of the grinded medicine, will fall on the table. White powder stains the dining room table and your jeans.

Nobody will see the mess anyway. And if they do, they won't pay attention to such a detail anyway. They're more likely to notice you.

You pour the ground contents into a glass of water. Hoping that some of it will dissolve and make it easier for you to drink.

Bitterness. This is all you feel.

The cold water with the crushed tablets slowly passes down your throat into your stomach.... The bitterness on your tongue. The ground up undissolved pieces irritate your gums, sticking like sand between your teeth. You feel the acid under your tongue. Something in your throat.

You slowly swallow the rest of the mixture in the glass. Now you just have to wait. You fall asleep.

Alone.

But you won't wake up on your own. Eternal peace. Eternal peaceful sleep.

Maybe it'll be better if there's anything waiting for you afterward. If only this pain would go away.

That's what you're counting on. Well, you haven't been good at math since kindergarten.

Day 732 

Finally, after a long while of walking, with a feeling of fear, with the gun pointed at your back, you reach the door of the building. With a deep sigh, slightly irritated by this whole protracted situation, you open the door

“Hey guys, come out.”

With irony in your voice, you look at the man standing at a notable distance from you.

"You see? Like I said, no one. here. There isn't"

You say angrily, clenching your fists. After a few moments, you turn on your heel and cross your arms over your chest, waiting for Ghost to move. Whatever was going on in his head right now was starting to irritate you. Constant silence on his part, and when he did have something to say. It was his words that were cold, harsh. Angry, rough commands. He addresses you without respect.

In fact, he treats you worse than a dog.

“I'll shoot you if no one comes out soon."

Ghost adjusted the gun resting on his shoulder, still aiming at you.

“No one will come out of this building...”

You sigh.

“...maybe you'll finally believe me and we'll end this nonsense? If this is how you host all your guests. I'd rather not know how my predecessors ended up.”

You add, exhaling loudly through your nose

“And I don't really want to find out”

While waiting for the man's reaction, you look at him closely. Why is he so hostile? Why does he still not believe you?

Yes, no one had the right in these strange times to trust anyone or anything, however, you appeared in the area defenseless. Without any weapons. You didn't even think to bring a knife with you. Nothing for possible self-defense. So he, after all, was just plain stubborn.

Finally, the man slowly, silently approaches you and searches the inside of the building.

Of course there is no one inside.

Paying no attention to you, the masked man turned around and moves back toward the vehicle.

“Let's go. There's not much time left.”

He throws over his shoulder in your direction. Nothing more, no apologies, you're right. I believe you now. No remorse, no understanding. Heartless, strange, Ghost.

As you sit next to the dog, with your back to the boot, the man starts the car with a squeal of tyres. The speed of the car is definitely higher. You are going too fast, even though there are no other road users besides you. It's as if Ghost is racing against the setting sun. Every now and then he nervously checks his watch and turns his head over his shoulder, towards the western sky. And so on and on.

The streets grow darker and darker. Night is coming. Nightfall.

This time you are heading in a different direction from the centre. A new, unfamiliar one. With Riley at your side, you watch the changing landscape with curiosity. Crowded, densely built-up streets with many tall buildings turn into new suburbs. Single family houses and wide pavements with overgrown yards appear before our eyes. This must once have been a nice, quiet and green neighbourhood. Families with children probably spent their best moments here, enjoying a happy life together. The middle class probably lived here and worked hard for every square metre. After school, children rode their bikes on the wide streets or ran on the green, evenly mowed lawns.

Once. Past. Memories.

Finally, after several minutes of crazy driving, the man parks the car next to one of the houses. Hurriedly he gets out and opens the garage door with a flourish.

Ghost quickly pulls in and reaches for the dog and pulls him out of the trunk. He puts him in another car, parked in the garage next door.

“Hurry up, we don't have much time.”

With that, Ghost opens the passenger door and gets behind the wheel without waiting for you.

When you change to a smaller vehicle and sit on the passenger side, you ask in surprise

“Why a we changing the car? What's going on?"

He doesn't answer anything, he rushes away. He drives for a while, again, in silence you notice him circling the area. You definitely pass the same house several times.

“Why are we driving around?”

You ask with a little fear. From minute to minute, every behavior of a man causes increasing nervousness in your body. Again, you find his behavior strange, irrational.

‘We need to confuse the trail, cover our tracks.’

The man finally speaks up and after a few moments stops at the next house.

‘Stay in the car and don't go anywhere, understood?’

Ghost quickly picks up Riley and, with the dog in his arms, marches quickly in an unknown direction. Disappearing from your sight after a moment. You're left alone, in the car, in an unknown place.

The sun was almost below the horizon, a small red glow gently illuminated the wide street.

Suddenly, the door opens on your side and you jump in your seat, slightly scared. Seeing the now familiar, masked figure, you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Shit!”

 You clutch your chest, mumbling.

“Put this on your shoes and walk fast, damn it.”

The man hands you something like hospital slippers. You quickly put them on over your shoes. Hearing his voice, you know perfectly well that there is no time for discussion. Time is running out.

"Pull your hair back or keep it out of the wind and follow me quickly. Don't you dare turn around and stop!"

The man grabs you by the elbow and pulls you out of the car. He moves quickly, taking quick and decisive long strides. Compared to his legs, yours are considerably shorter than his, you practically have to run to keep up with his pace.

Not only do your legs hurt, but you are simply out of shape. Many weeks of trekking to this city and saving the portions of food you took with you. And also, the nerves caused by today have left you simply out of shape, out of strength.

Stumbling, your legs slowly give up and you hold your hair with one hand to keep it from being blown away by the wind, as commanded. You try not to fall behind the man.

At one point, Ghost slows down for a moment and turns his head, looking behind him.

“Damn it, faster.”

Regardless of your protests, he grabs you and lifts you off the ground.

"Hold on to me and don't let go."

He energetically grabs your hips and lifts you up, pulling your body towards him. He squeezes your plump body hard, digging into your skin. He's practically running now. You hold on to him, praying that he doesn't fall under the pressure of your weight or suddenly drop you.

However, nothing of the sort happens, and you both quickly reach one of the larger houses in the area. The only thing that distinguishes it from the others. Apart from its size, is that it has massive shutters and is not as overgrown with weeds as the others in the area.

The man opens the door locks, with one hand, and hurriedly enters the house. Finally, he sets you down on the floor, mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. He closes first one front door and then another, more massive one with multiple security features.

The room goes dark.

‘Where are we?’

You finally ask hesitantly, catching your breath. You didn't even notice when you held your breath.

‘In my house.’

He answers briefly and walks past you into the cramped vestibule, deep into the dark hallway

‘Take off your shoes and jacket, leave them here. Follow me.’

Ghost's house is warm and somehow strangely cozy. Standing in the doorway of the living room, while the man hastily closes the shutters and before the room goes completely dark, you try to look around. Get acquainted with the new surroundings.

The interior is decorated in a simple style. Plain, single-coloured shelves. The dark furniture bends slightly under the pressure of the collected objects. Against the walls, where there is no furniture, stand towers of neatly arranged things. There were a lot of objects here. Everything neatly, perfectly arranged. Books, CDs, clothes, bins, boxes containing other things (rather essential for survival and ordinary daily needs). Everything neatly and evenly grouped. You will not be surprised if you find that the man has everything carefully catalogued. So if you were to ask him for a small lithium battery of the CR1620 type, he would certainly find it in a few moments, without hesitation.

Despite the large number of items stored, the space does not seem cluttered. In the middle of the room is a large dark sofa with a small coffee table, opposite one of the walls on which is a large flat-screen TV. Looking to your right, you notice a slight glow and notice that instead of another wall with lots of cupboards and shelves filled in, there are open double sliding doors that lead into the kitchen. Now that glow reaches you, it's the light from the LED lamps above the worktop, slightly illuminating the distant room. You make a mental note to ask the man later where he gets his electricity from. Because he definitely has some sort of energy source. So it's not just the tower you were in last time that has a power source. It looks like this house has been inhabited for a long time and is definitely set up to live in such apocalyptic conditions for a long time. Rather, you could ask the man if he found this house by chance. Did he know about this building beforehand, and if not, how did he know to prepare so much?

Maybe he was one of those weirdos who believed every conspiracy theory, every rumour. Perhaps he was once in some sect that spoke of the imminent end of the world.

When Ghost finishes closing the shutters, the room is completely dark. You don't even hear the man moving around the room because suddenly you hear his low voice from behind you.

“Follow me, you need to wash up.”

It's only now that it's come to you. That's right. You must stink badly. Now the smell must be clearly noticeable in an enclosed room.

You feel a wave of shame sweep over you. Your cheeks are definitely red.

So many days of wandering, sleeping anywhere, as long as there was a roof over your head.

When you set off, you didn't take too many things with you. You mainly packed food, a sleeping bag and one thick sweatshirt, which usually served as a pillow. In order not to carry too many weight in your rucksack. You did not take excess clothing, but only the most necessary things to survive. You didn't expect to find much food along the way that was still edible. You didn't know how long the trek would take. However, you didn't think it would be that long. Too long.

So you turn away in shame, lowering your head, even though the house is dark, you are afraid of the man's gaze. You feel your way towards where the Ghost's voice had just come from.

You feel embarrassed about yourself, you must have, well literally, stank. You can't even remember the last time you washed yourself properly. Before setting off, you managed to heat up the water you had collected and washed yourself thoroughly in the bath. You don't even remember how many days ago that was. Too long ago to remember.

You have quite long hair, which you had tied up in a braid for days without even untangling it or combing it every day. Now many strands have fallen out of the braid, in fact, even your hairstyle looked more like your hair was loose than braided.

But the fatigue and frustration of the ongoing journey had subsided and you no longer cared about looking presentable. You didn't expect to meet anyone.

Seeing the soft light that spread a pleasant warm and yellow aura in the narrow corridor. You slowly approach the open door. Finally you hear the clear voice of a man from deep in the room, and he speaks to you again in the same dark and monotonous voice.

“Take a bath, you have everything you need in the bathtub”

Then, following his voice, you enter a slightly lit room.

It is a large bathroom decorated in a minimalist style. Dark tiles and silver fittings. No windows, no shelves of supplies. Simple minimalist interior.

A man stands next to a large free-standing bathtub. Without waiting for your answer, he leaves and speaks again.

“Wait a few minutes, the water needs to heat up”

Before you can say anything, Ghost pushes past you and closes the door behind him.

You stand in the room for a few moments, you feel so unreal and strange. As if you were in some hotel. On a special vacation.

There was a time, well, you hardly even remember, when you had things like hot water, warmth, a house without a dripping roof and just a safe space. Everything is prepared and at your disposal. You don't have to search for anything. Scouring shops and houses to find the thing you need like shampoo, toothpaste or a hairbrush.

You sit down on the closed toilet, gently remove your gloves and place them on the sink, having to wash them by hand to put them back on as quickly as possible.

You struggle to remove your shoes, and a terrible sight appears to your eyes: socks that were probably white were now a mixture of several colours. Brown, greyish black or crimson. With great difficulty you remove the sock, hissing loudly in pain. The cotton material has stuck to the dried blood, fusing with the cotton material of the sock and with your foot. Some of the wounds are reopening. Most of the nails are practically black. They are likely to fall off soon. Now that your feet are finally uncovered and you are free to lay them on the cold stone tiles on the bathroom floor. You breathe more deeply.

Cursing under your breath, you try to undress. You slowly stand up, shaking on your swollen legs. It seems to you that it is even worse than when you had tightly knotted shoes on your feet the whole time.

After a few moments, you slowly reach for the rest of your clothes and slowly undress, throwing your dirty clothes on the floor. The last layer of clothes, the one closest to your skin, has practically stuck to it. The material is wet, as if greasy and even hard in some places, soaked through with the sweat that your skin has secreted over many weeks.

When you finally manage to undress, with shaking legs you walk over to the bath and sit down on its edge. As you turn on the tap you almost sob with joy. It's been a long time since you've seen running water. Hot straight from the tap. It used to be a normal thing that attracted attention, today it's an incredible luxury.

You hesitantly reach your hand under the flowing stream of water and shiver with pleasure. It's really, really warm. You don't even know what you're going to say to Ghost when you get out after your bath. You are so grateful to him. There are no words now to describe your joy and gratitude over such a trivial matter as this bath.

You reach for the bottle standing next to the bath. A 3-in-1 body wash. For men. Well, you can't have everything. But even if you only had warm running water at your disposal, you wouldn't mind at all.

When the bath fills to the bottom, you slowly step into it and sit down. Despite the growing tingling on your skin and the pinching of your wounds. You lean more comfortably against the tub, tilt your head back and close your eyes. You finally feel comfortable and can relax, at least for a while. Your muscles and injured skin, although they seem to hurt less for a while, can finally rest.

Hot water heats the bathroom, slowly steam appears in this small space, it becomes stuffy.

The bath takes a really long time. You contemplate how the water will slowly warm your frozen, swollen body. You wash every inch of your body thoroughly. The gel smells nice, you can feel lavender and sandalwood.

You don't care that a man might be angry with you and full of further resentment. Because you spent so much time in the bathroom. That you used too much water.

It feels so wonderful. Blissful. You finally wash your greasy and tangled hair and massage your scalp. You feel tears coming to your eyes. For the first time in you don't know when, you feel safe, just clean and comfortable. You allow yourself moments of weakness.

Relaxed, you fall asleep, but unfortunately the bad memories haunt you once again.

Days 64-66

You

You didn't see how long it would be before these peculiar cocktails full of anxiety would kick in, so you chose the closest place that seemed comfortable. The sofa in the living room.

Lying down, you hugged one of the cushions you had taken from your parents' bedroom earlier. It was big, soft and smelled like.... Mum. Home. The closeness. Security. Stability. All the good things that no longer existed.

You don't know how much time has passed, each passing minute seems like an eternity.

Eventually your eyelids become heavier and heavier. Your breathing slows down. You fall asleep. Hoping forever.

Unfortunately, you were wrong, the mixture of drugs was not what you expected. You wake up with a terrible, huge stomach ache, headache, nausea. You don't even have the strength to open your eyes.

You vomit. You can't collect your thoughts, you don't know what's going on. There is only one thing in your head: pain, pain, pain.

All this goes on for hours, moaning in pain, nausea, fainting. Breathing problems come on suddenly, convulsions occur.

Everything is one long agony.

This is not how it was supposed to be.

You were not meant to suffer.

Tears run down your cheeks, mixing with the vomit that is practically everywhere. You must have fallen off the couch. You don't even feel yourself hitting the floor.

Everything hurts so much.

 You fall asleep for brief moments. It all continues, the pain, the crying, the momentary loss of consciousness and then back again. Vicious circle. Endless.

When it all goes away for a while, you don't have the strength to get up, you stare at the white ceiling. Your heart beats fast.

Night and day pass. In the end, everything slowly subsides. This time you have failed. Something gave you another chance. Maybe there was a reason that you survived after all.

Days 732

You

You wake up abruptly and only after a while do you remember where you are. The bath water is already cold. You sit up shrinking your legs, hugging your legs tightly to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around them. You bury your head, trying to make the bad memories disappear, hide, or preferably erase them from your mind.

It's not just the constant, daily nightmares that remind you of the ordeal that day. When you swallowed the ground pills and the wrong mixture caused one of the side effects to appear. That night you lost some of your hearing.

Maybe it was a punishment, or maybe it was meant as a reminder. It's not worth it. You shouldn't. No.

You will never forget.

Once the water is very cold, we get out of the bath. Although your body has thankfully relaxed a little. You wrap yourself in a towel and look around the bathroom. No sign of a change of clothes. After all, you're not going to parade around in a small towel that barely covers your pudgy body.

Slowly, hesitantly, you open the bathroom door, wanting to call out and ask a man for clean clothes. Because there is no point in wearing the old ones. They are fit to burn at most. You don't believe that even the best washing machine and detergents can cope with such dirt that has dried for weeks.

Looking down the corridor you notice a few changes. The corridor is softly lit, no longer dark.

And the other thing is that there is a chair opposite the bathroom door.

And on it lie nicely stacked brand new clothes, deodorant and a toothbrush. Next to it lie plasters, bandages and wound disinfectant.

You look around the corridor, but there is no one there but you.

In the distant kitchen you hear the clink of plates and cupboards being opened. You think you hear the clatter of Riley's claws walking quickly across the kitchen floor, a very familiar sound, something known from the past.

In addition to the symphony of sounds, your nostrils are filled with a smell. Food. Dinner. Definitely a warm meal. It's all so unreal, ordinary, idyllic. So innocent and mundane. As if those two years never happened, as if you were spending your weekend off gossiping at a friend's house. And you weren't struggling in drudgery and terror to survive.

Hurriedly, feeling your stomach growl with hunger, you pick up the things Ghost left for you from the chair. You glance at the tag of one of the clothes, not only were they the right size, they were from a really good and expensive company.

Returning to the bathroom you smile slightly, hugging the fresh and tactile clothes.

Well, maybe meeting and visiting Ghost's house wasn't as bad as you thought at first.

And maybe under the mask he wasn't such a scary person after all.

taglist:

@leviathanleva @chocolate-noodles @vmaxis @poohkie90 @ghostlythots @nobodys-coffee @famouscattale @youdontneedtoknow1226 @pimpinsins @justguessfan @novasilvae @pausbirudanlumbalumba @ella2497 @lunamoonbby @sams-pineapples @tonylagsagne @lurkinwbreexy

[inafieldofdaisies]

OCs as tragic love archetypes | uquiz | tagged by @adelaidedrubman @corvosattano and @simplegenius042

CUPID'S BROTHER: You have been love adjacent all your life. The faint spill of another story that softly grazed your shoulders when stood too close. Whether by design or not, you have yet to build a clear image of what love means to you. The interlocked weaving of a picture locket bound to strand of hair when hugged to tight, the sunpatch that meets your soles in glaring sun dried fields when running with a friend. You are not far from love, but moving between line of collision and avoidance at all times. A faint glimmer on sea lake surface of what could be. There is time to find what you want, find whether it's enough as is. Love is in you, breathing in another day. Continue as you are, realizing the love that is slowly blossoming in your life as it sharpens and clears in brushstrokes.

CANíBALES/DEVOURER: Love's a knife to skin to you, a vein to woven muscle, blood puddle before you. You listened to all the promises of a stranger's relief and feel the drain of a shower head running it all down again. You committed another murder; kissed and bruised skin with a clench to a quivering wrist and went home in the defeaning quiet of a taxi. There's mold covered rage within you. If to take a heart home with you, you'd bite your way through muscle and ribcage first. Pleasure comes, but there will be no devouring past it. There is fear in settling down and being seen. There is a glass screen between these bodies and you. Relax your tight jaw and feel the real canine fear beneath that scabbed up cavity. The sacrifice of opening up is needed if to be loved as you deeply wish inside. Desire doesn't discriminate between hands or spoken word. Why should you?

If this isn't perfect for Mer, and sacrifice being mentioned ☠️

SUB ROSA: Love is a game of here and there to you. Whether catching glimpse of another's neckline or grazing a knuckle between knocking shoulders of passing by. You have learned to adore in secrecy, the rawness of an outright confession to be spoken a foreign terror. There is ease in pursuing the unavailable, to remain within the space of possibility and nestle the fuzzy words another could say to make or break your day. Instability spun itself into mysterium and while the certainty of love in aging isn't to be forced upon anyone, there is a miniscule part of you testing the limits of ambiguity. Hold down the feeling and settle in the leather seat of a car, kiss the corner of a mouth and say how you feel. Your affection in its vulnerability is to be seen, lift the veil and do not fret when an honest word turns into all you have secretly yearned for. You are meant to be noticed and openly loved.

LESLIE. Goddamn, he is at it again.

MAUDLIN MAGDALENE: An embrace with the shivering figure of a ghost. You cut your hair at 3 a.m. to change it all but it is no use. Love is a war to endure to you. You comfort and hold, kiss pressed to temple and cheek while feeling the numbness filling your nights to brim. What used to feel honorable has now become chore of breathing to sustain another. What else is love, but your disembodied lap to lay another's head into? Your fingers turn blue in the announcing dawn, the cold figure of what you used to know of yourself remains asleep next to them. Another version of you has crept out of your old body, has ripped and eaten itself out of a cast that was fused into the position of nurturing comfort. Remove yourself from your lovers before they become part of you, conjoined with your arms to anothers wailing head you have no life apart of maudlin magdalene. You have given endlessly, but this isn't all there is to you. Acknowledge the good that has been done and let yourself be free. You deserve to feel held as well, you are more than what you can give of yourself before breaking down.

FATHER'S SON: Breathe down your own neck, it's the sound of smashing fist against furniture in another room again. The wringing hem of cloth and pattern of an escalating heart. Love is tumultous to you. There is grief and disguised forgiveness to damp down the yearning. A permanent fear of tender flesh spilling out, still- you must refrain of growing attached to the fear you had installed into you. Let go of the notion that love is still to be cherished with a hole in the head. Scrub crimson ancestry off wooden floors and try again tomorrow when your hands don't shake cold from the blood loss. Love isn't a fist to escape. Fill the hole in your head with cotton and know you are to be adored. You are deserving of an embrace without flinching.

Torn about this one, like pretty boy has a ton of guilt from his past, but the violence isn't something he faced prior to [redacted], esp in his family. He'd argue he's not his father's son, actually.

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @josephslittledeputy @trench-rot @josephseedismyfather @florbelles @direwombat @cassietrn @purplehairsecretlair @voidika @theelderhazelnut @marivenah @madparadoxum @unholymilf @carlosoliveiraa @harmonyowl @nightbloodbix @macs-babies @shellibisshe @onehornedbeast @euryalex @clicheantagonist @g0dspeeed and anyone that would like to do the uquiz for their ocs <3

[demdozeguys]

Strap in for a long one, because it's time for:

REVIEWING AND RANKING EVERY GAME I GOT FROM THE STEAM SUMMER SALE

ramblings under the cut:

UNRANKED: ULTRA STREET FIGHTER IV

okay look I know I said I'd be ranking all of these but putting a fighting game up against six linear-progression single-player adventure type games feels a bit unfair.

as for whether I liked it: yeah it's alright. it's street fighter, it's fun. only time will tell how much my brother and I will get out of it, but I'm already feeling like I don't like it quite as much as 5. how much of that is due to 4 not having Urien is anyone's guess.

#6: CROW COUNTRY

I'm gonna be honest I didn't fuck with this game nearly as much as I thought I would.

maybe it's because I'm new to the genre. maybe it's because I've been spoiled by autosave. or maybe it's just because I can't aim to save my life. but losing upwards of 20 minutes of progress every time some creature I failed to hit or juke tagged me one too many times got frustrating pretty fast.

I didn't hate my time with Crow Country. the environments are gorgeous, the story kept me intrigued, and filling out my mental list of "oh shit I can go here now"s was still satisfying. if this is your thing don't let me dissuade you, I just wasn't built for it.

#5: KAMIKO

Kamiko is decent fun, but there's not really a whole lot to say about it. It's a short and sweet zelda-esque game where the meat of the playtime comes from trying to go through it as fast as possible, and as you'll see later I happen to enjoy going fast. enjoyable, but not super meaty. if you like routing and time management give it a shot.

#4: PONY ISLAND

Alright, this is where we get into the Good Shit.

Pony Island is a game in which you play a game called Pony Island made by The Devil From The Bible. every few minutes there's some new weird meta setpiece to keep you on your toes, plus the code puzzles and pony sections between are solid fun on their own. it's a great time. and if you're interested, there's a pretty solid reward for getting 100%.

if I had to dock points, it didn't seem to have much in the way of replayability, but that's not a huge dealbreaker. I really need to get my hands on Inscryption now.....

#3: SPOOKY'S JUMPSCARE MANSION REMASTERED

I'm not normally big on horror but Spooky's kept me coming back. despite going into it already knowing what all the specimens did, they managed to keep me on the edge of my seat because you never know when they're going to show up. combine the legitimate building terror with an offbeat and self-aware sense of humor and you have a damn fun package.

it's worth noting that as of writing this, I've only completed the main story. the DLC campaigns probably won't affect the final ranking? but I have a feeling they'll make me appreciate the game more.

#2: PEPPER GRINDER

Pepper Grinder is fucking awesome.

The level design is great, the soundtrack rips, and just moving around with the core gimmick of "what if you could drill and then jump out" is so good. I just really wish there was more of it.

I was able to get all the major in-level collectibles and reach the end in under 3 hours. the bulk of my playtime came from the time trials, which do manage to hit a sweet spot of encouraging you to push yourself without requiring CBT perfection. demolishing the gold medal on the final boss took me well over an hour's worth of attempts and may have been one of the most viscerally satisfying challenges I've ever completed in a game.

Pepper Grinder is really, really cool. But if it had another world's worth of levels it would be even cooler.

#1: CHICORY: A COLORFUL TALE

Man. I fucking love Chicory.

The vibes are immacculate. The story made me really feel for these gay little animals. The soundtrack is delightful (Lena Raine, everybody!). The exploration is rewarding. The painting mechanics made me actively want to go back to areas I'd already been to and recolor them better than I did originally, which is like. not something most games do. You can even draw penises everywhere if you want. There's something for everybody.

I'm having a hard time putting down exactly what made me fall head over heels for this game as much as I did - especially when I wasn't expecting to going into it. Maybe it was just in the right place at the right time. No matter how it cheated the system, Chicory is easily the best game I picked up.

And that's that. this was my first time doing something like this (especially on tumblr) so it felt kinda weird but idk lmk if I planted any seeds in your brain

[onlyplatonicirl]

i like how your fanfic shows how horrible of a parent ink would realistically be

I’m glad :)

That’s something I try to go kind of in depth on in this fanfiction, which is taking a lot of the more “non canon” aspects of character interpretations (Ink being a parent, Error/Ink as a relationship, Fresh and PJ having a friendship, yadda yadda) and I kinda turn them on their head a bit and subvert expectations and try to see how those tropes would realistically work with the characters while keeping them actually IN CHARACTER.

Error/Ink in the tags? Oops jumpscare it’s not really an errink fic cuz they “break-up” (to put it lightly) in chapter 4 and basically hate each other for the rest of the 200,000 words. It’s not a shipping story it’s a tragedy looking into an aroace trying to better understand how other people work for his own slightly selfish motives and a man who is so desperate for company and attention after being alone for DECADES that he becomes nearly dependent on the emotional validation of the one person that actually seems to remotely give a shit about him.

And also realistically, the multiverse would not approve of them even being friends in any capacity. It’s always slightly pissed me off when I’ve read fanfic and Ink’s like “guys me and error are friends/dating/whatever” and everyone else is like “ok.” Wdym you aren’t gonna start WWIII. It’s an inevitable (har har) failure doomed from the start.

(Something I also enjoy a out this story is that with minor tweaking you can read the whole thing as them just being close friends - the “romance” is not a crucial part, but it does help emphasize character development with what I’m trying to write.)

So along the lines of trying to keep the characters realistic, yes ink would be a shit parent. Not on purpose and not because he doesn’t care, but because he just as a person with his horrid memory and low emotional tolerance/processing would just not be good for raising kids. Plus, he’s always traveling for his “job”, rarely would he actually stay at home for longer than a day. He treats his house like a fun sims project, free plot of land to build a crazy house for fun. He didn’t design it for much more than that, he’s not living in it full time after all.

Plus that fucked up both his kids. PJ’s become callous and wary around anyone he doesn’t know that well mostly due to having to figure things out and deal with things on their own. (Council. He doesn’t like them.) He’s nearly had to raise himself age 8 onward since Ink wasn’t much help. He just wanders the multiverse by himself. Unlike gray, who’s a total shut-in nervous wreck who barely leaves his room u less dragged by the ankle. PJ’s basically had to raise Gray as well. Neither of them have ever met Error (aside from PJ’s “birth” and a brief run-in on another occasion in which no words were spoken and that lasted maybe thirty seconds before Error ran away in terror).

I cant Write so many essays on these guys do not try me HAHAHA

Tldr I’m mentally ill about character development and emotional depth exploration

[elgaravel]

tragic love archetypes

was tagged by @katsigian and @swanfey to take this quiz for my ocs! thank you both <3 i really liked this one

tagging: @numbaoneflaya @time-is-a-lake @envergothash @celticwoman @mrs-theirin @lucien-lachance @quickhacked @dameayliins @opaleyedprince @saratrantoul and anyone else who'd like to join!

03. CUPID'S BROTHER

You have been love adjacent all your life. The faint spill of another story that softly grazed your shoulders when stood too close. Whether by design or not, you have yet to build a clear image of what love means to you. The interlocked weaving of a picture locket bound to strand of hair when hugged to tight, the sunpatch that meets your soles in glaring sun dried fields when running with a friend. You are not far from love, but moving between line of collision and avoidance at all times. A faint glimmer on sea lake surface of what could be. There is time to find what you want, find whether it's enough as is. Love is in you, breathing in another day. Continue as you are, realizing the love that is slowly blossoming in your life as it sharpens and clears in brushstrokes

commentary: throws up and dies abt it. this fits them soooo perfectly, this whole quiz killed me. i probably yell abt it a lot but gray loves love and loves very deeply but avoided it for much of their life out of fear and every time they collided with it, it ended poorly until they met their current circle and with time, they've opened themself up to it more and more and started to heal after everything they've gone through :')

07. FATHER'S SON

Breathe down your own neck, it's the sound of smashing fist against furniture in another room again. The wringing hem of cloth and pattern of an escalating heart. Love is tumultuous to you. There is grief and disguised forgiveness to damp down the yearning. A permanent fear of tender flesh spilling out, still- you must refrain of growing attached to the fear you had installed into you. Let go of the notion that love is still to be cherished with a hole in the head. Scrub crimson ancestry off wooden floors and try again tomorrow when your hands don't shake cold from the blood loss. Love isn't a fist to escape. Fill the hole in your head with cotton and know you are to be adored. You are deserving of an embrace without flinching.

commentary: yeah. yeah. dmitri grew up in a neglectful household surrounded by only unhealthy, chaotic relationships and dynamics so it's all he knew for much of his life. so it's something he sought out for some time, finding a semblance of comfort it in despite not actually ever feeling safe. he's always had one foot out the door and found himself undeserving of any sort of gentleness or long-term commitment despite his arrogant, laid-back facade. genuine love scared him for a long time.

04. SUB ROSA

Love is a game of here and there to you. Whether catching glimpse of another's neckline or grazing a knuckle between knocking shoulders of passing by. You have learned to adore in secrecy, the rawness of an outright confession to be spoken a foreign terror. There is ease in pursuing the unavailable, to remain within the space of possibility and nestle the fuzzy words another could say to make or break your day. Instability spun itself into mysterium and while the certainty of love in aging isn't to be forced upon anyone, there is a miniscule part of you testing the limits of ambiguity. Hold down the feeling and settle in the leather seat of a car, kiss the corner of a mouth and say how you feel. Your affection in its vulnerability is to be seen, lift the veil and do not fret when an honest word turns into all you have secretly yearned for. You are meant to be noticed and openly loved.

commentary: venus had never truly been in love until johnny was forced into her brain. a certain level of fondness for some of her more entertaining flings that was kept safely hidden, sure, but never genuine love. she's never let anyone get close enough. she's flighty, selfish, and a compulsive liar with brick walls around her heart. she wasn't sure anyone could love her. there's always been a comfort in a lack of interpersonal stability until she met jackie and she found it wasn't so bad. of course, that was taken away from her but it set her on the right path and she began to love more openly and kindly, and wants that in return.

05. MOTHER'S DAUGHTER

Being her child was akin to a whispered apology, another wailing hug, another day you repent for complaining about the fact that she hasn't said anything nice to you. You bring her flowers and are met with the inconvenience of a vase that has to be found instead. You bake for her and feel the warmth of fresh cut bread fill the kitchen; but the dirty dishes remain. Even if you were to bring in the mail and lay down the knife next to your plate, she'll cradle another. Love is an endless apology to you. Averting eyes to desperate tears and sunken teeth in lower lip at the dinner table. Do not repent for who you are, as it is enough. Gather your courage to love again and reveal the honeydewed structure of a swelling heart once you feel safe to do so instead. Love isn't a confession booth of all you are not, settle down and unclasp your hands. You're all anyone could want already.

Commentary: results that make ur c.diff kill u instantly. "Love is an endless apology to you" and "you're all anyone could want already"... YEAH‼️. He's the sweetest but he's never been able to see that for himself. He finds it difficult to not see himself and his feelings as an inconvenience so he's always felt the need to apologize to those he loves for everything😔

[jamessunderlandgf]

—OCS AS TRAGIC LOVE ARCHETYPES.

tagged by mine angel @unholymilf to absolutely ruin my life some and psychoanalyze myself through my oc’s relationships and what i did to them so uh. you know. slay. tagging @oc-musings 🩷 @risingsh0t 🩷 @florbelles 🩷 @ghostfvcker 🩷 @shellibisshe 🩷 @kyber-infinitygems 🩷 @socially-awkward-skeleton 🩷 @loriane-elmuerto 🩷 @teamhawkeye 🩷 and you 🫶🏻

—04. SUB ROSA

Love is a game of here and there to you. Whether catching glimpse of another's neckline or grazing a knuckle between knocking shoulders of passing by. You have learned to adore in secrecy, the rawness of an outright confession to be spoken a foreign terror. There is ease in pursuing the unavailable, to remain within the space of possibility and nestle the fuzzy words another could say to make or break your day. Instability spun itself into mysterium and while the certainty of love in aging isn't to be forced upon anyone, there is a miniscule part of you testing the limits of ambiguity. Hold down the feeling and settle in the leather seat of a car, kiss the corner of a mouth and say how you feel. Your affection in its vulnerability is to be seen, lift the veil and do not fret when an honest word turns into all you have secretly yearned for. You are meant to be noticed and openly loved.

—03. CUPID'S BROTHER

You have been love adjacent all your life. The faint spill of another story that softly grazed your shoulders when stood too close. Whether by design or not, you have yet to build a clear image of what love means to you. The interlocked weaving of a picture locket bound to strand of hair when hugged to tight, the sunpatch that meets your soles in glaring sun dried fields when running with a friend. You are not far from love, but moving between line of collision and avoidance at all times. A faint glimmer on sea lake surface of what could be. There is time to find what you want, find whether it's enough as is. Love is in you, breathing in another day. Continue as you are, realizing the love that is slowly blossoming in your life as it sharpens and clears in brushstrokes.

—07. FATHER'S SON

Breathe down your own neck, it's the sound of smashing fist against furniture in another room again. The wringing hem of cloth and pattern of an escalating heart. Love is tumultous to you. There is grief and disguised forgiveness to damp down the yearning. A permanent fear of tender flesh spilling out, still- you must refrain of growing attached to the fear you had installed into you. Let go of the notion that love is still to be cherished with a hole in the head. Scrub crimson ancestry off wooden floors and try again tomorrow when your hands don't shake cold from the blood loss. Love isn't a fist to escape. Fill the hole in your head with cotton and know you are to be adored. You are deserving of an embrace without flinching.

[gothimp]

Tragic Love Archetype

tagged by @katsigian to use this quiz for my ocs

tagging (no obligation!!): @feykiller @estevnys @duskfey @jillvalentinesday @devilbrakers @nokstella @acealistair @shellibisshe @mrdekarios @mapeslyrup @aelyosos + anyone else 🩵

Sub Rosa 🥀

Love is a game of here and there to you. Whether catching glimpse of another's neckline or grazing a knuckle between knocking shoulders of passing by. You have learned to adore in secrecy, the rawness of an outright confession to be spoken a foreign terror.

There is ease in pursuing the unavailable, to remain within the space of possibility and nestle the fuzzy words another could say to make or break your day. Instability spun itself into mysterium and while the certainty of love in aging isn't to be forced upon anyone, there is a miniscule part of you testing the limits of ambiguity. Hold down the feeling and settle in the leather seat of a car, kiss the corner of a mouth and say how you feel.

Your affection in its vulnerability is to be seen, lift the veil and do not fret when an honest word turns into all you have secretly yearned for. You are meant to be noticed and openly loved.

Cupid’s Brother 🏹

You have been love adjacent all your life. The faint spill of another story that softly grazed your shoulders when stood too close.

Whether by design or not, you have yet to build a clear image of what love means to you. The interlocked weaving of a picture locket bound to strand of hair when hugged to tight, the sunpatch that meets your soles in glaring sun dried fields when running with a friend. You are not far from love, but moving between line of collision and avoidance at all times. A faint glimmer on sea lake surface of what could be.

There is time to find what you want, find whether it's enough as is. Love is in you, breathing in another day. Continue as you are, realizing the love that is slowly blossoming in your life as it sharpens and clears in brushstrokes.

[billhader]

Here You Come Again

Chapter Three: Other People

A Cobra Kai fanfiction

Read Chapter Three on AO3 || Chapter Two || Chapter One

Chapter Three Summary:

Anoush is sick and tired of Tom Cole. Louie is sick and tired of going to work when there's nobody to bully. Cole's scheme to buy out LaRusso may help them both get over themselves.

Rating: Teen (canon-typical profanity)

Word count (chapter): 3.9k

Relationships: Louie LaRusso/Anoush Norouzi

Characters: Louie LaRusso, Anoush Norouzi, Amanda LaRusso, Daniel LaRusso, Samantha LaRusso, Anthony LaRusso, Tom Cole

Tags: Canon Compliant, Star-crossed, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, more like co-workers to friends to strangers to coworkers again to lovers, Lovable Himbo Louie LaRusso, Angst with a Happy Ending, poor communication skills, Family Bonding, Missing Scene, Slow burn

This chapter covers the events during and surrounding season 3 episode 3, "Now You're Gonna Pay". Some of the plot and dialogue in this chapter comes directly from the episode itself, because I want to make sure there's enough context to understand what's going on without y'all having to go back and rewatch the episode...and their chemistry in this episode is off the charts lmao.

Let me know what you think!! <3

(Full chapter text below the break)

“Earth to Faroush. You have the contract, yeah?”

Without a word, Anoush held up the black binder, and Tom Cole flashed his surgical smile. He hung behind his current boss as they walked up to the front of Larusso’s Encino branch. The sleek building façade loomed overhead, and a gurgle from Anoush’s stomach made him question whether he was really over the odious twenty-four hour bug that had ruined his weekend plans. His digestive system did not perform at its best in stressful conditions - these days, nearly all of his conditions were stressful. A battle-fortified demeanor of professionalism could only mask so much of his innate social terror. 

Had Anoush known what he was giving up when he walked away from Daniel and Amanda, he may have walked a tad slower. The slightly larger paycheck - and it was slight - did not make up for what the Valley’s other self-proclaimed auto king was putting him through now. When he’d accepted Tom Cole’s invitation to lunch at Mistral in Sherman Oaks after a week of stewing it over, the matter-of-fact conversation they had left Anoush feeling like his feet were on solid ground for the first time all summer. Cole made the choice to jump ship seem exceedingly simple. It wasn’t that Anoush was witless enough to trust the guy, but the facts were the facts.  He could compare commission rates, promotional incentives and 401k contribution matching; or, he could compare how gratified he was by his work at LaRusso for over ten years to how despondent he’d become in the three months since Daniel moved him to the North Hollywood branch. When Daniel stood him up on that final day, Anoush was already detached. He was just another LaRusso who’d claimed to care, then left him high and dry. 

While Anoush held no guilt walking away from his old boss, he did wish the hazing from the new boss would end soon. Roping him into this slipshod attempt at humiliating the competition was all too typical of Cole and his small army of filler-ridden white boys at the Van Nuys location. Anoush had faced down far worse insults, pranks and plain old beatings in middle and high school. That didn’t mean that the racist and antisemitic nicknames, or the gauntlet of repetitive trainings designed to keep his window of time for actual sales as low as possible, were fun to endure day after day. But if he could hang in long enough, the rest of the sales team would forget about him and find someone else to harass. Anoush was looking forward to invisibility. On the airy, tranquil LaRusso show floor, he was completely exposed. He sucked in a breath and held it as they marched towards Daniel and Amanda, who were huddled together by reception with stony expressions. Only one customer was on the floor, being coaxed into a mid-size SUV by--

Oh.

Of course.

“LaRussos!” Cole proclaimed, sweeping his arms wide like a televangelist ready to burst into song. Anoush stared at the iridescent flecks in the smooth marble underfoot. Whatever Cole was rambling about, he couldn’t hear properly. He felt like he was encased in a glass water tank. Shapes blurred, colors muddled, sounds didn’t travel quite far enough for him to decipher. In the corner of his vision, a navy blue form in the general outline of Louie LaRusso tucked its amorphous arm behind the customer’s back. The two figures floated down the corridor and out of sight. Louie hadn’t seen Anoush standing there. He must not have, otherwise he would have dropped everything to butt into the awkward bunch and pepper Anoush with dozens of invasive and embarrassing questions. Louie would have come over for one of his notorious bone-crushing hugs if he’d seen Anoush. But perhaps not. Anoush only knew Louie in a context that no longer existed, and that was no accident. In current reality, there was no evidence to suggest Louie would do any of those things. Maybe he had seen Anoush from across the floor and left in the opposite direction on purpose. That seemed most likely.

“Really, Anoush? You walk in here with this guy and let him talk to me like that, huh?”

He heard Daniel loud and clear, crashing back through plate glass to land face-first in the burgeoning hostilities. Meeting the indignant glare of his ex-boss - his ex-friend - only confirmed his suspicions, and there was no way he could look at Amanda. The couple regarded him as the interloper he’d chosen to be. If one LaRusso had beef, it transferred vicariously throughout the family. 

“It’s just how he talks,” Anoush said in a monotone, with no idea what smarmy insult had been leveled at the LaRussos. “You get used to it.” His three-piece suit was far too hot for the glass-enclosed floor space, but his hands were growing clammy. “Uh, excuse me. Restroom.” He rushed away from the others, stomach churning with a vengeance. 

***

In his big shiny office, Louie was grooving on his new sale paperwork. Dean Martin played on the Bluetooth speaker, and he whistled along to “Volare” as he kicked his feet up on the desk. His customer had just left with the promise of a brand-new Audi and a vibrant flush overtaking her face - just how Louie liked to leave ‘em. Amanda could gripe about numbers all day long, but he was doing pretty fucking peachy considering he’d only been back for a week. If Amanda was so concerned about how many cars they were selling, why was Louie the only one out there selling cars? Yeah, he supposed there needed to be actual people present in the building to sell cars to, but that was a technicality. Louie’s strategy was to sell to anyone who walked through the door - and if no one came in, he’d make them come in. He had his ways. 

His cousins were too freaked out about the school fight, but when Louie questioned if they really wanted the business of folks who were idiotic enough to blame the LaRusso family for what happened, he was met with withering glares and grumbling. “Of course we want to sell to those people,” Amanda had snapped. “We’re trying to sell cars, Louie. Ve-hi-cles. As many as possible, to as many people as possible. The manufacturers don’t care how stupid a customer is, do they? You see a box for that on the form, Louie? Let’s see, How stupid is the buyer on a scale of one to a hundred? Who did the buyer vote for in the presidential election? Did the buyer have any pets growing up?-” Louie had backed out of Amanda’s office at that point. He wasn’t there to piss her off, although it was pretty funny to watch her slow descent into an automobile-induced nervous breakdown. It was way more fun to prove his worth by single-handedly saving the family business, if that’s what it came down to. And when they’d weathered the storm thanks to Louie’s powers of persuasion, he would rub it in Amanda’s face for years. That idea alone kept him in great spirits. 

“Hey, man, look alive.” Daniel didn’t bother to knock on the open door, and Louie almost fell out of his chair. “You busy? Don’t seem busy.”

“I just sold you a fucking car,” Louie retorted, holding up his paperwork by the stapled corner of the packet. “You’re welcome.”

Daniel didn’t acknowledge the attempt at banter. He was looking over his shoulder. “Will you just come out and watch the floor for a sec? I don’t know where the hell Marcus wandered off to…”

“Yeah, fuck Marcus.” Louie tucked the paperwork into its proper folder like the stellar employee he was before getting up. “You and the missus headed out for the day?”

Daniel shook his head. “No, Tom Cole just showed up with Anoush. Cole’s completely insane. He actually has the nerve to walk in here and try to buy the place out from under us. I swear, if it weren’t for the school fight, he’d be laid out on the show floor right now.”

“Huh.” Louie was trying to button his suit jacket, but suddenly he couldn’t find the button-hole. He fumbled, dropped the button, and tried again. Then he quit trying and just stood there, staring out the door into the hall. Daniel was looking at him funny.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Uh, that’s crazy. I’ll go watch.” Louie cleared his throat, took a glance at his reflection in the mirror above his desk, and brushed non-existent lint off his lapels. He brushed past his frazzled cousin without another word on the way out. As a kid, Louie spent more time in detention than in the classroom. Walking out to the floor now as a grown man was scarier than any death march toward the principal’s office ever had been - and for once, Louie hadn't done a damn thing wrong. It was just Anoush, for crying out loud. The little fucker was about as intimidating as a basket of laundry. And yet, when he turned the corner and saw Anoush standing next to Tom Cole, arms folded tight in front of his chest, Louie’s control of his limbs evaporated. He stopped dead next to the intake desk and looked for a pen, a brochure, anything to look busy.

“Louie.”

Fuck. Amanda’s quiet, ferocious voice was a force Louie didn't feel like reckoning with.

“What's happening?” He pointed at Tom Cole and grinned like his life depended on it. “Hey, how you doin’, Mr. Cole? Ready to give up on that racket you got going down the street and join the cool kids?” He was cringing at the sound of his own words, but he had no clue how to handle the people in front of him. Amanda just shook her head, Cole’s silicone face didn’t budge, and Anoush’s cheeks puffed out like a hamster's. Louie knew he was doing that stuck-up little fake sigh he always did when he objected to something Louie said, or the way he said it, which was all the damn time. It meant Anoush was still judging him from afar - a tiny quirk that used to drive Louie up the fucking wall. Now, recognizing Anoush’s expression was a relief. 

“If the cool kids are cool with violence,” said Cole, clasping his hands together, “then call me a square.”

“What?” Louie scoffed. He glanced at Anoush, gesturing towards Cole like get a load of this guy. He thought, or imagined, that the corners of his mouth twitched. Then Anoush turned his head away to stare at the wall.

“Don’t you get it, Louie?” Amanda said brightly. “He’s saying we’re all thugs. Tom, why don’t we get settled in the conference room, okay? Daniel’s on his way.”

“Now, now. No need to be dramatic.” Cole followed Amanda, oblivious to the daggers she’d been glaring at him the entire time. Daniel passed a moment later to join them in the conference room, mouthing something at Louie that he didn’t quite catch. That left him alone on the show floor with Anoush. Louie shoved his hands in his pockets, following Anoush’s stony gaze towards the front entrance. He wasn’t used to the air between them being so quiet. Then again, Louie wasn’t used to being near Anoush at all anymore, and he didn’t get why he had to make this weird. Wasn’t he gonna say hello? At the very least, he thought Anoush might show some sign of being happy to see him. Damn, Louie thought. If that’s how it is…

“I can’t believe you’d go work for that mamaluke.”

Louie got exactly what he was after - Anoush’s attention. The wrinkle that appeared between his brows told Louie all he needed to know. Anoush had a lot of tells when Louie got under his skin. 

“That is the most goombah thing you’ve ever said,” he retorted. Louie’s frustration flared hot in his chest. 

“Hey! Take it easy, okay? That’s not your word, that’s our word.”

“Is it, though?” Anoush always did this. He pushed on every point Louie made, searching for weakness. He’d never let Louie relax. Every conversation was a battle to determine who had to play the most defense, and who could withstand the barrage of personal barbs the longest. It got Louie’s blood pumping.

“I don’t know. Still, I didn’t like your tone, the way you said it.” A picture-perfect volley, designed to goad Anoush into his favorite subject of argument - semantics. But where Louie expected him to step up and snap back, Anoush just deflated.

“Okay.”

With the flow of energy cut off, Louie was unmoored. He hated the lurch in his stomach, hated Anoush for making him stand there like a dick with nothing to say. Louie refused to allow this bullshit to continue. He was bull-headed, obstinate, and proud of it -  he’d keep pushing and pushing until Anoush either decided to chill out or to murder Louie with his bare hands.

“You still over on Lankershim?” he asked. Anoush shifted on his feet, rewarding Louie’s effort at small talk with perfunctory eye contact.

“No. Upgraded to a small two-bedroom over on Outpost.”

It took Louie a second to recall where Outpost was. “Oh, good for you, man.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m tryin’ to move right now, I’m still over at the 99 Cent Store. That place sucks, man.” There was no denying Anoush’s smile now, though Louie wasn’t completely sure whether it was friendly or mocking. When it came to him and Anoush together, there wasn’t much of a difference. “You gotta see the degenerates that come in and outta there. But I'm gonna get my own spot now that I got a little job stability.” For a brief giddy moment, Louie thought they were over the hump. But Anoush frowned, his lower lip jutting out slightly, and Louie had seen that face before. It was never good.

“...Don’t be so sure of that.”

Louie felt blindsided. Why did Anoush have to speak in fucking riddles? “What you talking about?” 

Anoush opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He scratched his temple and fidgeted. Louie was beyond done with fucking around. 

“Anoush. I know you know something. What do you know?”

Their eyes connected steadfastly for the first time. Louie had no idea what to think. All he knew for certain was that Anoush looked exhausted. He’d forgotten how it made him feel to see Anoush genuinely downtrodden because it was so rare. Watching Anoush look over his shoulder at Cole made him furious on his behalf. In a brain ruled by impulse, reaching out to grab Anoush by the arm and tell him everything would be alright seemed like a great idea - but he didn’t. What was most important to him now was keeping Anoush right here. If he scared him off now, he’d never forgive himself. Not to mention, he didn’t know if everything would be alright.

“Okay,” Anoush said, “you didn't hear this from me.”

***  

Only a few hours had gone by since Anoush had re-entered the LaRussos’ lives under extreme duress, but several months worth of fatigue set in as soon as he sat down in the solitude of his own car. He shucked off his suit jacket and scrambled to unbutton his waistcoat. When he pulled a lever on the bottom of the driver’s seat, it reclined all the way into the back. Anoush laid flat in the seat, crossed his arms over his face to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun, and let out a long groan. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

He never imagined that he would grow weary of being treated to lunch at the most delicious restaurants in the Valley, but the dragon roll Daniel bought him wasn't sitting right in his stomach. The conversation itself had gone well, Anoush thought; it was lovely to catch up with Daniel now that he had a foot back in the real world. But he couldn’t bring himself to make any promises, and the disappointment was plain in Daniel’s expression as he toasted Anoush with lychee strawberry soju. Anoush knew Daniel understood that he was in a difficult position and had a lot of factors to consider, but he was so tired of letting people down.

Anoush was startled out of feeling sorry for himself by a brash ringtone playing over his car’s Bluetooth speaker. “For fuck’s sake, harām zādeh,” he grumbled, digging in his pocket for the phone. A solid five minutes of peace and quiet was too much to ask of the universe. He answered without looking at the screen. “You’ve got Anoush.”

“What the fuck, dude? “You’ve got Anoush”? When you start answering the phone like a corpo douchebag?”

Anoush sat up straight so fast that he tweaked something in his lower back. “Ow. Louie?”

Louie was openly laughing at him over the speakers. It reminded Anoush of a weird dream he’d had last year. “What happened at lunch, you fucking nerd?”

“How do you even know I’m done with lunch?”

“I dunno. Call it a fifth sense or whatever.”

“Or Daniel told you.”

“Maybe.”

“So you already know what happened at lunch.”

“Not really. You think I just called to hear you talk?”

The interior of the car was way too hot. Anoush turned on the engine and cranked the air conditioning as low as it would go. “Kind of seems like you did.”

Louie laughed again, but started coughing in the middle. He didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You still there?” Anoush asked. He wanted to kick himself for daring to skirt around the elephant in the room, but the elephant was throwing a tantrum and spraying water everywhere. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here,” Louie finally replied. “Sorry if the sound’s weird. I’m out in my car.”

“Me too.”

“So what’d you tell him? He wouldn’t give me shit. I asked real nicely, too.”

Anoush figured their conversation wouldn’t be quick. He sank back down on the flattened driver’s seat, and reached for the knot in his tie. “I didn’t really tell him much besides what I told you. His contract with Doyona’s void at the end of the month. Cole made him out to be a maniac.”

“So what’s he gonna do?”

“I don’t know for sure. He mentioned flying out to meet with Doyona.”

“All the way in Japan? Jesus.” Louie’s frustrated exhale created a burst of static on his end of the line. “This shit is so crazy. Hey, did he say he wants to take me to Japan with him?”

“...You know what? Oddly, that didn’t come up.”

“Man, I just want one of those sick-ass Japanese swords. Bring it back with me.” Louie made a few swish, swish noises, and Anoush could picture him swinging the air katana in his driver’s seat. “If that blond asshole comes around the dealership again, he’s gonna be sushi.”

“Fuck that guy. He never paid me for the shoes he ruined.”

“Amanda said he hurt you,” Louie remarked. Anoush waited for a joke or a childish, vulgar nickname that never came. 

“Johnny? Yeah. Punched me in the stomach.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”   “I shoulda been there.”

Anoush closed his eyes and made himself to inhale and exhale, deep and long, ignoring how his breathing wavered. He loosened his tie completely and pulled it off. On that day, he’d thought the same thing.

“What would you have done?” he said, forcing the levity in his tone. “You couldn’t beat the guy when you had a baseball bat.”

“Hey, hey, that was a dirty-ass fight. You weren’t there. Don’t talk about shit you don’t know, Anoush.” He could hear the smart-alec energy return to Louie’s voice. “But then I guess you’d never have shit to talk about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about? Six months ago, you told me with a straight face that you thought Elton John was a woman until you were twenty-five.”

“I fucking told you, I misheard it my whole life! Not my fault I never saw his fucking name written down. Thought his name was Ellen John.”

“Ellen fucking John.” Anoush was laughing so hard he curled up in a half-hearted fetal position on the seat. 

“Well, what kind of fucking name is Elton?”

Their laughter eventually trailed off and left dead air in Anoush’s car, with only the drone of the fan filling his ears. This silence didn’t carry expectation or dread; they’d gotten something out of their systems together. Anoush thought about what must have led Louie to finally look down at Anoush’s contact card in his phone and tap it. He wondered if Louie had considered hanging up before he got an answer.

“I don’t know what to do now,” he admitted to Louie.

“I mean, you just tell Cole to go fuck himself. Right?”

“Ideally, yeah.”

“And then you come back over here.”

Anoush sighed. “I don’t know if it’s that simple.”

“What the fuck is un-simple about it? They want you back, man.”

“...I just know things won’t be the same as before.” There was no way to tell if Louie understood what Anoush meant by that. He wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, himself.

“Fuck no. It’s gonna be way better. They’re gonna be so glad to have us both back, we can have whatever the fuck we want. You gotta see the office they gave me, it’s fucking ridiculous. What, do you not wanna come back because you’re scared I’m gonna beat the shit out of you this quarter?”

“Not really much competition when the quarter’s half over.”

“Yeah, you better stay over there at Tom Cole’s daycare then.”

“Fuck you, Louie.”

Anoush had missed saying that so much. 

“Just come back,” Louie said softly. “Don’t…don’t be an idiot. Just come back.”

“...Fine.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

“Yeah.” Anoush didn’t need to look in a mirror to know his face was burning bright pink.

“I thought you were gonna be way more of a pain in the ass about it. I had a whole speech ready,” Louie fake-complained. 

“No, no. I wanted to leave on day one. Just waiting for a good enough excuse.” Anoush really didn’t want to hang up - they had months worth of bullshit stories and heated arguments to catch up on. “Can you leave me alone so I can call your cousin?”

“Fuck, finally. I thought you’d never shut up.”

“I want to hear that persuasion speech on Monday morning, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah. I made that shit up.”

“I still want to hear it.”

“Okay. Damn. Bossy bitch.”

Once he brought himself to end the call, Anoush didn’t rush to get Daniel on the line. He stared up through the sunroof of his Porsche at the cloudless sky and wondered if he’d just hallucinated the entire conversation - or maybe he’d hallucinated the entire summer. On Monday, Anoush would wake up and stop for coffee or donuts or both on the way to work. He would arrive before Louie, and set a Boston cream long john on his desk for when he inevitably rolled in fifteen minutes behind schedule. Everything would be the same - or almost the same. The morning Louie never showed up would become a distant nightmare rather than a catalyst of chaos in Anoush’s life.  And one day soon, they might laugh about it together. Unable to stop smiling, he sat up and dialed Daniel’s number.

“Hey. Yeah, let’s do it. I can have Cole back there in an hour if you really want to rub it in his face…just promise not to punch him, okay? I don’t feel like being named in a lawsuit. And Louie has to promise, too.”

[jackiesarch]

— OCS AS TRAGIC LOVE ARCHETYPES

tagged by @corvosattano and @adelaidedrubman to absolutely demolish some kids in this uquiz. sorry to them.

tagging (opt in or out with this post!) @thedeadthree @belorage @inafieldofdaisies @gwynbleidd @adelaidedrubman @firstaidspray @chosolos @risingsh0t @queennymeria @florbelles @shallow-gravy @socially-awkward-skeleton @nightbloodbix @zakryah @roofgeese and anyone else who wants to play!

— CUPID'S BROTHER

You have been love adjacent all your life. The faint spill of another story that softly grazed your shoulders when stood too close. Whether by design or not, you have yet to build a clear image of what love means to you. The interlocked weaving of a picture locket bound to strand of hair when hugged to tight, the sunpatch that meets your soles in glaring sun dried fields when running with a friend. You are not far from love, but moving between line of collision and avoidance at all times. A faint glimmer on sea lake surface of what could be. There is time to find what you want, find whether it's enough as is. Love is in you, breathing in another day. Continue as you are, realizing the love that is slowly blossoming in your life as it sharpens and clears in brushstrokes.

— FATHER'S SON

Breathe down your own neck, it's the sound of smashing fist against furniture in another room again. The wringing hem of cloth and pattern of an escalating heart. Love is tumultous to you. There is grief and disguised forgiveness to damp down the yearning. A permanent fear of tender flesh spilling out, still- you must refrain of growing attached to the fear you had installed into you. Let go of the notion that love is still to be cherished with a hole in the head. Scrub crimson ancestry off wooden floors and try again tomorrow when your hands don't shake cold from the blood loss. Love isn't a fist to escape. Fill the hole in your head with cotton and know you are to be adored. You are deserving of an embrace without flinching.

— MOTHER'S DAUGHTER

Being her child was akin to a whispered apology, another wailing hug, another day you repent for complaining about the fact that she hasn't said anything nice to you. You bring her flowers and are met with the inconvenience of a vase that has to be found instead. You bake for her and feel the warmth of fresh cut bread fill the kitchen; but the dirty dishes remain. Even if you were to bring in the mail and lay down the knife next to your plate, she'll cradle another. Love is an endless apology to you. Averting eyes to desperate tears and sunken teeth in lower lip at the dinner table. Do not repent for who you are, as it is enough. Gather your courage to love again and reveal the honeydewed structure of a swelling heart once you feel safe to do so instead. Love isn't a confession booth of all you are not, settle down and unclasp your hands. You're all anyone could want already.

— SUB ROSA

Love is a game of here and there to you. Whether catching glimpse of another's neckline or grazing a knuckle between knocking shoulders of passing by. You have learned to adore in secrecy, the rawness of an outright confession to be spoken a foreign terror. There is ease in pursuing the unavailable, to remain within the space of possibility and nestle the fuzzy words another could say to make or break your day. Instability spun itself into mysterium and while the certainty of love in aging isn't to be forced upon anyone, there is a miniscule part of you testing the limits of ambiguity. Hold down the feeling and settle in the leather seat of a car, kiss the corner of a mouth and say how you feel. Your affection in its vulnerability is to be seen, lift the veil and do not fret when an honest word turns into all you have secretly yearned for. You are meant to be noticed and openly loved.

[erikiara80]

A surprising parallel with Ghostbusters

I wanted to see if the mention of the only person who went missing before Will could be relevant. Maybe it is.

First of all, Hopper sleeping with the librarian always felt random to me. But maybe the writers wanted to connect this information to the library.

We know that it’s important. It’s where Joyce and Hopper find Will, and where in S2 he sends the soldiers to die (yeah, I think the tunnels and the animals used as incubators for the demodogs are under the library). And at the end of S4 the library is the convergence point of the gates.I think it is possible that we’ll find out who the person who vanished in the 20s is. Maybe it’s the old skeleton in the library. Or maybe in the library there were some important information on them?

Anyway, that’s not the cool part.

1923 in other stories ST has parallels with

In Rose Red (parallels here) John Rimbauer, the owner of the haunted mansion that keeps growing like a cancer (like the UD/tunnels), is killed by his wife.

In the 1923 classic horror movie, Warning Shadows, during a dinner in the house of a wealthy count, a Shadowplayer gives the guests visions (here). This reminds me of the dinner at the Creel House. 

The director, Robison, was born in Chicago: in the Creel House’s attic there’s a musical score and the only word I can see is Chicago.

And Robison’s first movie, Night Horror, is about a woman who receives a message from a notary that her grandfather died. Virginia moved to Hawkins after her grand uncle died.

And what about Ghostbusters and Ivo Shandor?

He was the architect behind 550 Central Park West, the building that becomes a portal the god Gozer uses to try to invade our world.

I knew ST has a lot of parallels with Ghostbusters, but then I found out that Shandor completed the apartment building in 1923.

Who is Ivo Shandor?

In 1920 he became a cult leader (parallel with the cult of Vecna?) and constructed the building using “magnesium-tungsten alloy and cold riveted girders with cores of pure selenium”. The special metal was a conductor that encouraged paranormal activity.

Ray: “The whole building is a huge super-conductive antenna that was designed and built expressly for the purpose of pulling in and concentrating spiritual turbolence.”

Egon: “They conducted rituals up on the roof, bizarre rituals intended to bring about the end of the world.”

Shandor thought that the world was too sick to survive, so he began to worship the sumerian god Gozer and wanted it to destroy the world. 

So.

A haunted house. A house with a Shadowplayer, and a cult leader who built a building as a gate for an evil god.

I really doubt it’s just a coincidence. 

Steve and Dustin put a demodog in the Byers' fridge. The Terror Dog Zuul in Ghostbusters appeared in Dana Barett’s fridge. 

In Ghostbusters, the creatures that opened the gate are the Gatekeeper and the Keymaster

(thinking about all the keys and keyholes in S4)

Not to mention that Finn plays one of the characters in Ghostbusters Afterlife where (SPOILER) Ivo Shandor appears.

The two Peters

Also. Venkman’s love interest Dana got possessed. We thought this was a parallel between Lumax and Byler, since both Will and Max got possessed/ cursed. But what if it's also foreshadowing of Edward and Henry, whose fake name is Peter?

Two people, Mike and Lucas, playing the same character: Peter Venkman...

And in S4 we see the name Peter (plural) associated with keys

Much to think about.  @lilitblaukatz​ (I tag you because this is the most interesting and unexpected connection I found)

[milkboydotnet]

In response to the recent International Peoples Tribunal on War Crimes in the Philippines, the international interfaith community calls for an immediate stop to the killings and addressing of the underlying causes of the armed conflict in the Philippines, paving the way to an enduring and just peace. You can sign on to the interfaith unity statement at ichrp.net/interfaith. The text of the statement follows: We, the undersigned representatives of religious organizations and religious leaders, urgently implore the Government of the Republic of the Philippines (GRP), the international communities, and all relative stakeholders to immediately confront the deep-seated roots of the decades-long armed conflict, fostering a pathway towards a truly equitable and lasting peace, thus putting an end to the horrors of injustice, oppression, violence, and death. We are appalled by ongoing violations of International Humanitarian Law (IHL) by the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP). We condemn indiscriminate bombings of peasant communities, continued imprisonment and killings of protected National Democratic Front of the Philippines (NDFP) peace consultants, and the designation of the Communist Party of the Philippines (CPP) and New People’s Army (NPA) as terrorist organizations by the GRP. The path towards just peace requires a negotiated political settlement with respect for, and upholding of, previously agreed-upon frameworks, such as those laid out in the Hague Joint Declaration, the Joint Agreement on Safety and Immunity Guarantees (JASIG), and the Comprehensive Agreement on Respect for Human Rights and International Humanitarian Law (CARHRIHL). Respecting the principles of justice, democracy and human rights, we pledge our solidarity to the Filipino people and people of faith as they mobilize to stop the current state of violence and rights violations, and focus on building the foundations for a just and lasting peace. To achieve such a vision, we urgently make these calls to the GRP: Stop all violations of IHL and HR, giving full access to international and domestic human rights groups for investigation of reported violations. End red-tagging, harassment, and stigmatization of social movements, religious leaders, journalists, and HR defenders. Release all political prisoners, including the expedient release of detained NDFP peace consultants. Remove the designation as terrorists of the CPP, NPA, and all NDFP personalities. Repeal and rescind repressive laws and executive orders, like the Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020 (RA 11479), the Terrorism Financing Prevention and Suppression Act of 2012 (RA 10168), and Executive Order 70 of former President Rodrigo Duterte including the National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict that it created. In these calls, we amplify the voice of the Filipino people for a just and lasting peace. This requires the dismantling of the structures and systems that impede access to fundamental rights, including the right to peace. It will require both sides to embrace an end to the armed conflict that goes far beyond the silencing of the guns. We urge all peoples committed to peace to join our call. May we work together to bend the arc of history toward Justice: for the fruit of Justice will be Peace.

[connorthemaoist]

Marco Valbuena | Chief Information Officer | Communist Party of the Philippines

August 01, 2023

The Marcos regime and its military and police forces must be roundly condemned for the increasingly malevolent use of the deceitfully named Anti-Terrorism Law (ATL) in their heightened campaign of suppression against various democratic forces, critics, and political opponents.

Over the past few weeks, human rights defenders and members of cause-oriented organizations have been “designated” as “terrorists” by the Anti-Terrorism Council or charged in court for “terrorism” in a patently arbitrary manner, without due process and in utter violation of broadly accepted standards of judicial processes.

The ATL is now being used as a tool for suppression with impunity. The most recent victim of the draconian ATL is Hailey Pecayo, a 19-year old human rights worker, who earned the ire of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) for having actively exposed the role of the military for the killing of a nine-year old child in Batangas last year. She is now being charged by the AFP under the ATL, together with other members of their human rights group.

Before Pecayo, at least six others, including Windel Bolinget and three other members of the Cordillera People’s Alliance (CPA), were tagged as “terrorists” by the ATC. In a much earlier resolution, Dr. Natividad Castro, a medical doctor working for the Karapatan Alliance in Mindanao, was similarly tagged by the ATC. It is particularly noteworthy that the ATC resolutions against Bolinget and Castro both came after courts dismissed false charges filed by the AFP linking them to armed actions of the NPA.

The use of the ATL as a tool of suppression has now reached absurd and brazen levels with the ATC “designating” Congressman Arnolfo Teves and 12 others accused of perpetrating the March 4 killing of former Negros Oriental Governor Noel Degamo. Marcos officials have resorted to using the ATL against Teves after failing to build up a court case him. Aiming the ATL against Teves also serves as warning of the extent that Marcos will use the law for his purposes.

The CPP denounces the use of the ATL as a weapon of political suppression. The Party also expresses its continuing protest against the “terrorist designation” of the CPP, the New People’s Army and the National Democratic Front, of its leaders and representatives, and others being linked to the revolutionary cause.

Despite the September 21, 2022 ruling of the Manila Trial Court dismissing the petition filed by the government to declare the CPP and NPA as “terrorists” under the Human Security Act (the former name of the ATL), the Marcos regime and its agents insist on pinning the “terrorist” tag as part of its systematic campaign against all patriotic and democratic forces.

In light of the heightened attacks against the broad democratic sectors using the ATL, the Filipino people’s demand for the abrogation of the draconian law has become even more urgent. All democracy-loving people must make a stand and lend their voice to the struggle to defend the people’s rights and freedoms against state repression.

The Party supports the Filipino people’s clamor to end the so-called “war on terror” which, in fact, is a camouflage for unbounded state terrorism. This fascist framework has long been abused by the Philippine ruling class state, in order to justify the systematic erosion of the people’s civil and political rights.

The military and security establishment has used the “war on terror” to claim extraordinary powers to assert domination over society, take control of the functions of civilian agencies of government and carry out any and all acts of state suppression with gross impunity.

[children-of-epiales]

Tagged by @voidika & @scentedcandleibex to do these quizzes:

ocs as kinds of sufferings

ocs as tragic love archetypes

Bunny

Yearning

The pain in your chest bubbles knowing that what you want may never be yours. You're lost in a fantasy world, or consumed by what you wish you were or had as opposed to what you do. It's hard to appreciate what's around you when you're appreciating the hope of what could be instead.

03. CUPID'S BROTHER

You have been love adjacent all your life. The faint spill of another story that softly grazed your shoulders when stood too close. Whether by design or not, you have yet to build a clear image of what love means to you. The interlocked weaving of a picture locket bound to strand of hair when hugged to tight, the sunpatch that meets your soles in glaring sun dried fields when running with a friend. You are not far from love, but moving between line of collision and avoidance at all times. A faint glimmer on sea lake surface of what could be. There is time to find what you want, find whether it's enough as is. Love is in you, breathing in another day. Continue as you are, realizing the love that is slowly blossoming in your life as it sharpens and clears in brushstrokes.

Sage

Yearning

The pain in your chest bubbles knowing that what you want may never be yours. You're lost in a fantasy world, or consumed by what you wish you were or had as opposed to what you do. It's hard to appreciate what's around you when you're appreciating the hope of what could be instead.

07. FATHER'S SON

Breathe down your own neck, it's the sound of smashing fist against furniture in another room again. The wringing hem of cloth and pattern of an escalating heart. Love is tumultous to you. There is grief and disguised forgiveness to damp down the yearning. A permanent fear of tender flesh spilling out, still- you must refrain of growing attached to the fear you had installed into you. Let go of the notion that love is still to be cherished with a hole in the head. Scrub crimson ancestry off wooden floors and try again tomorrow when your hands don't shake cold from the blood loss. Love isn't a fist to escape. Fill the hole in your head with cotton and know you are to be adored. You are deserving of an embrace without flinching.

Eike

Self inadequacy

You crack under the weight of your own percieved inability. How can you be enough for anyone else when you're just barely enough for yourself? Insecurity causes you to have little back-bone, and so you fail to reach your full potential when it comes to what you're best at. You sabotage opportunities with fear you'll fail before you've begun. It hurts to never feel like your best is enough, but setting your standards too high or too low ensures it.

04. SUB ROSA

Love is a game of here and there to you. Whether catching glimpse of another's neckline or grazing a knuckle between knocking shoulders of passing by. You have learned to adore in secrecy, the rawness of an outright confession to be spoken a foreign terror. There is ease in pursuing the unavailable, to remain within the space of possibility and nestle the fuzzy words another could say to make or break your day. Instability spun itself into mysterium and while the certainty of love in aging isn't to be forced upon anyone, there is a miniscule part of you testing the limits of ambiguity. Hold down the feeling and settle in the leather seat of a car, kiss the corner of a mouth and say how you feel. Your affection in its vulnerability is to be seen, lift the veil and do not fret when an honest word turns into all you have secretly yearned for. You are meant to be noticed and openly loved.