#bat-hoax

[bat-hoax]

Digitized+stitched the Rouge doodle in my sketchbook for a one off shirt

[kingprinceleo]

vampire au- happy halloween rahhhhhhhhh, quick lil goob comic

if shadow is anything, hes consistent 😤

[stevviefox]

Awwww!! Tiny darling!!!

This is a ‘glench’ and

This is a ‘glench’ and it is so small that you can’t see it

[lisafication]

Digging Graves for your Morals; Or, The Ethical Problem of Outlawry

Hello, yes, I am here again. This one is shorter, I swear (it’s under four thousand words, even). If this is the first post from me you’re seeing, this is a follow-up to my prior essay posted here on the game The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, although it should be able to mostly stand alone.

At the end of my last essay, I touched on both the game’s nearly uncompromising moral scepticism and relativity, but I didn’t really dig into it. I outlined that the game only textually frames actions as ‘morally bad’ in the context of a morality set by the society and the world that has treated them as no better than farm animals raised for the slaughter. Well, I have a lot to say on the topic of ethics on the topic of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, so buckle in, this one’s going to talk about the social contract, moral scepticism and everyone’s favourite topic: Mrs. Graves.

As usual, this was originally posted and formatted for on Sufficient Velocity and you can perhaps more easily read it there. Spoilers abound, and my content warning from last time still applies.

She’s not too hot on either ethics or her mother

The Meat of the Matter

Since a lot of this is optional or otherwise missable information, let’s review the premise the game gives us. If you’re already aware of all of this, I apologise, it won’t take long.

First off the bat, the quarantine at the start of the game was a hoax-driven money-making scheme of which you can pick up more-or-less all the relevant details of. This is entirely missable and by the time it’s possible to discover, our protagonists have better things to dwell on and have dialogue about, so I’ll give you a summary of what you can deduce from reading the notes and thinking about it.

The quarantine is an organ harvesting operation, as per some documents you can discover in the wardens’ office. They entrap the residents, test their blood types and starve to death those they deem surplus to requirements — alternatively the starvation itself could be their method of ‘preparing the harvest’, there’s evidence in both directions and it hardly matters — harvesting the organs of the others for sale. As our protagonists are AB-typed, the ‘universal recipient’ or ‘most selfish blood type’, they’re some of the first on the chopping block.

If you read through the newspapers and the documents in Mr. Washing Machine’s car, you can discover that ultimately ToxiSoda are responsible, and a similar thing is happening in a different city under the guise of a ‘chemical leak’.�� Should you further investigate matters, you will find mentions of the ‘man behind it all’, the doctor, or the Surgeon, as the fandom have been referring to him — you may recall Mrs. Graves mentioned someone similar! Yeah, he’s the guy who runs ToxiSoda, who are themselves partners with the water company that faked the parasite outbreak in the first place.

It’s all a life insurance scam, apparently

How much the details of the operation matter is something open to interpretation — it might just be something for players to figure out and Episode 3 will not cover the Surgeon at all, or he might play a major part; it's not particularly relevant to this essay. What matters is that it happened at all — indeed, it’s fairly easy to justify Ashley and Andrew in everything they did in Episode 1 (flashbacks aside), arguing that if they’d made any other decisions they’d have died — an argument that the victims dug their own graves, even if the Graves siblings put them in them. How correct that is is a matter of debate, but that you can make the argument at all matters, and we’ll be returning to this later. In my last essay (and again in the introduction here), I made an analogy to farm animals, raised without love and for slaughter. Let’s put a pin in the ‘for slaughter’ part for now and take a look at the ‘without love’ part. 

That’s right, it’s time to meet the parents.

As Andrew notes, there are significantly more compelling reasons for you to say that

They Fuck You Up, Your Mum & Dad

They really do. 

Our charming protagonists are, as with many things depicted in this game, an exaggerated, almost farcical example of this phenomenon — one that’s just grounded enough to still feel very real, just like the siblings themselves. 

The late and lamentable Mrs. Graves is just the same: originally a teen mother, hopelessly out of depth with two difficult children — even if one was good at masking it — and an unreliable, emotionally unavailable (at least to their children) partner who can’t hold down a job, ends up foisting them off on each other and doing a Parental Negligence because she simply Cannot Cope. That’s the real part. The part where she gets paid off by an organ harvesting operation to leave them to die, that’s the borderline-farcical exaggeration that throws all the nooks and crannies of her character into sharp relief.

Mrs. Graves does not have a good relationship with either of her kids. Having self-admittedly fobbed the job of raising Ashley off on her son, to the degree that they did not even celebrate her birthday as kids, both of them hold differing degrees and types of resentment for her.

For Ashley, it’s hate — perhaps not quite so clear cut as that, as it’s her that calls for the eulogy and she shows some potential signs of discomfort while cleaning up her parents’ corpses, but by and large, it’s fairly simple and straightforward, as usual for Ashley. The sentiment is not exactly unreturned, either.

This brings Ashley’s heart great delight!

The most clear incident raising her from everyday ‘neglectful’ to ‘wow she wanted nothing to do with this kid’ is the optional ‘birthday cake’ scene, obtained by finding the present in Ashley’s first ‘transitory world’ dream, in which we see Ashley’s birthday  and the founding of a lemon cupcake tradition between Leyley and Andy. She has received nothing from her family, notes that her ‘friends’ would say they were busy before she even told them the schedule and Andy takes her out to buy cupcakes with his pocket money.

This scene gets a callback in Andrew’s dream later. Just remember to Ask Nicely, rather than Kill Her.

Parents of the year, everyone.

So with Ashley it’s as straightforward and obvious as she herself is — she hates her mother, her mother hates her. With Andrew, as with Andrew himself, it’s a fair bit more complicated. His mother is a much more nuanced figure, who is believable in her role as an unfortunate teen parent who was trying her best. He has a degree of trust in her against, seemingly, his own good judgment In her conversation with Andrew, she acknowledges her fault in raising him and seemingly sincerely tries to offer him a ‘way out’, an olive branch.

I think many people have had relationships where they might say this

This scene in particular intrigues me, because she is acknowledging fault in a way that Andrew strictly avoids doing — and well, there’s nothing Andrew likes more than a good way to avoid acknowledging any fault of his own. With her dominant relationship over their father as a model for Andrew to draw comparisons to his own relationship with Ashley with, it’s no surprise that the narrative resonates with him to the point of ‘Accept’ being many people’s first completion.

Of course, that’s not all there is to it. There is a fascinating contrast with her later conversation with Ashley, where she — despite accusing Ashley of brainwashing Andrew — refers to Leyley and Andy as ‘two psychos’ and states that she always knew they were responsible for Nina’s death and that, implicitly, they owe her for not turning them in. 

There's something about mother-daughter relationships here that I just do not have the time or reading to dig into, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, when Andrew interrogates her on her possession of their death certificates, she has… an interesting, plausible story about a life insurance scam and claims that she really did think they died in the fire, implicitly denying the claim that she sold them. It’s entirely possible that she’s describing the details of the ‘scam’ correctly — you can even buy that she genuinely does care for Andrew in some way, if not Ashley, but her claim about being an honest, grieving parent shocked at their deaths… doesn’t add up?

This is a very normal reaction to your supposedly dead children showing up in your house.

As Andrew himself notes after hearing her story, she’s full of shit. This gets into speculation, because there are a few ways to read this, but the most plausible ‘gist’ is that she and her partner were paid off in money and jobs to not raise a fuss — the surgeon she mentioned is almost certainly the founder of ToxiSoda, remember?

The overwhelming difference in presentation between how she speaks to Andrew and Ashley invites investigation — and when Andrew turns down her offer and tells her he isn’t interested in her offer in Decline, her reaction isn’t… despair, it’s shock — and well, there’s a good reason for that.

Why do you think she did it in the first place?

This is the happiest we see her

Well — it’s so she can finally fit into society. That white picket fence, that idyllic 1950s life — hell you can call it the American Dream. She wants that, or as close to it as she can get — the working-class teen mother, living in poverty, aspiring to the middle-class. It’s a very common, very real and very grounded motivation.

And to that end, she effectively sold off her children. It’s no wonder she can’t fathom why Andrew wouldn’t choose the same.

That’s the part that makes you think — just like the deaths in Episode 1, well- maybe the siblings are justified here, too. It’s a weaker argument, but it’s still one you can make under many common moral paradigms today — what goes around comes around, all that jazz. Just look at how awful she was to Ashley.

She’s finally found what she’s been striving for.

Here’s the thing, here’s the thing though — what, reasonably, could she have done? Andrew and Ashley briefly highlight this in conversation about Ashley’s ‘friends’ in Episode 1 — was she supposed to fight gunmen to try and break them out? Throw food to the balcony from four stories?

Moreover, as she herself says to Andrew… would anyone really have been able to do better than her in her position? She was seventeen when Ashley was born, living in poverty with a partner who couldn’t even remember Andrew’s name when he was a kid. Anyone would have had difficulty, let alone with these kids.

Her evils are — they’re not any deliberate action, but rather… prompted inaction. She didn’t have the emotional energy, resources or plain capability to properly parent her children, she didn’t have any solutions to their murder of Nina in a state so blatantly hostile to its underclass, she didn’t have a way to connect with Ashley and she took the money rather than fight a futile and likely suicidal battle against a corporation and its armed goons in a dystopian setting.

Ashley, notably, does not deny this.

Her sin is the one we’re all, I think, guilty of — that of not trying hard enough, that of inaction in the face of difficult tasks, of not standing up on principle because it’s just too much that day and you don’t have the spoons, you’ll do it tomorrow (no you won’t). It’s a petty, everyday kind of evil — that of not doing enough. 

Is that enough to condemn her? Certainly, there’s a pretty manipulative read of her that likely has some truth to it — in the locked door in Ashley’s dream in ‘Decay’ you can discover that she has a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul — but consider that lens — the game won’t make up your mind for you, so you’ll need to choose that for yourself.

The dad is interesting in terms of negative space — but he’s mostly important in that he doesn’t matter, so I decided to not fit him in here. He has art, though — just no sprite, because, well, he’s never mattered to either sibling.

The Contract We Call Society

Right, it’s time to get a little bit Theoretical in here. Not much, but a little. Social contract theory is a complex topic with a lot of nuance, much of which I will be eliding in the name of not writing a twenty thousand word paper on semiotics, law, and anthropology, but the short analogy is… the idea that as long as you play by society’s rules, as long as you are a good citizen, a good person, the state, or the community, will take care of you.

In a number of ways, the harshest penalty levied by many historical states and legal codes was not death, but rather the criminal status of outlawry, a practice that’s cropped up a number of times in history — the practice of no longer being protected by the law. This meant one could be killed or worse with impunity — you were no longer protected by mob justice and, while overexaggerated as a term of reference, certain texts from Medieval England refer to outlaws as bearing a wolfshead, ‘for the wolf is a beast hated by all folk’. Never minding that wolves are actually delightful, this was a time when wolves were actively hunted and sold by people — and the same was intended to happen to outlaws. They were ‘fair targets’ as far as society was concerned, no longer to be treated as your fellow citizens.

This was the gravest punishment on the books, for most of these legal codes — something saved for those who had broken the social contract so completely that there could be no turning back (civil outlawry is… a bit different, that’s not the topic here). Among others, a modern critique of the concept is that it offers no incentive for improvement, no incentive to change or to cease harming society — if an outlaw has none of the social contract’s protections, what reason do they have to obey… any of the social contract? If that seems familiar, well, let me ask you this:

What if the state or community fails its end first? What responsibility does the innocent outlaw have to that contract?

It’s an interesting phrasing, that the world is better off.

It’s time to talk about the incest, and part of why it’s there. The cannibalism too, but that’s less impactful here. If you’ve seen me elsewhere, you might have seen me say that the incest is a load-bearing narrative pillar — in large part due to it being a critical facet of the siblings’ relationship, but in another large part due to it being an equally critical part of how the game uses taboo.

A taboo is in this context something that is considered repulsive and to be avoided by society. It’s a more complex term than that — you can also use it for certain sacred actions or utterances that are only permitted to certain people, for example — but that’s what it is here. Swearing, premarital sex, BDSM and murder are, approximately from weak to strong, some example taboos held in modern Anglospheric society. 

Strong taboos are a staple of horror — they shock, they disgust, they draw people’s attention and it’s that last one that’s critical here. Incest is a very strong taboo — while I am absolutely not segueing into its historical context, the very well-established Westermarck effect gives it a certain timelessness and immunity to desensitisation that most other taboos don’t have — murder, to contrast, is a taboo we’re largely desensitised to in modern media and works of modern media have to put in actual work to make a murder seem horrifying — through atmosphere, cinematography, evocative prose etc.

And this is important because the use of taboo I’m covering in this essay is that the incest is used to invite judgment — it is so ingrained as a ‘wrong thing’ in people’s brains almost regardless of background that it forces the player to engage with the work morally. And that’s where the fun starts.

I’ve mentioned before, very briefly, about the juxtaposition of tone between the Burial & Decay endings, contrasting with the very monstrous difference in morality. Burial is remarkably light-hearted — they play around with the drain blockage, they joke about their mother’s personality and this is further exaggerated on the Love path, where Andrew is much more comfortable with casual contact and the two make a game out of how far they can throw their parents’ skulls, the humour is directly contrasted against their abhorrent actions.

I’ll be real Ashley is far more merciful than I, I’m shuddering at the thought of that gunk in my hair

In comparison, Decay is… bleak. I’ve seen it being referred to as being ‘emotionally sandblasted’ and, yeah I think that’s fair — it’s uncomfortable, it’s heavy and it’s just not fun. And this is the route in which, if you chose Trust into Accept, Andrew has bought into the narrative that his mother’s offered — that he can fit just fine into society if he wasn’t stuck, if not for Ashley — the route that ‘fits’ most closely to the social contract, to Andrew feeling the guilt that we think he should and hating the monsters that they’ve become, as the social contract deems them. Given the pains the game takes to attach the player to the protagonists, this normative moral ending is very easily interpreted as the bad ending.

And well, isn’t it?

Thing is, as mentioned above, the social contract has never held up its end for them. The game takes careful pains to point out to a viewer that they’ve never had the life that society promises people, so why do its moral standards apply?

The game invites you to judge the characters, and in the same motion, asks you from what principles you judge them, making a pretty good guess in that, like most people who haven’t spent a large amount of time navel-gazing and reading some very boring books by very dusty old men, they come from the society around you.

Love even has Ashley express this sentiment directly after the incestuous dream — she asks you — well, Andrew, but this is also something for the player to mull over — why this is what’s engaged your morality or sense of revulsion, rather than the desecration, cannibalism or murder.

Andrew and Ashley are both very funny and very fascinating in this scene.

And that’s the framing that it casts all of its own moral judgement in — even the ‘tar-soul’ aspect is… well, it’s unclear what it even means. Mrs. Graves was a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul, after all. Other than that, it’s society and the world being better off without them, rather than any kind of assertion of objective morality. Due to the present of ‘soul colour’, we’ll presumably see the game make some moral statements in Episode 3, but as it stands?

It’s nearly completely morally sceptical, in and of itself — it’s not interested in moral assertions or education, it’s interested in making you question your own morals. Deconstructive (not that kind), rather than dialectic, to be mildly pretentious.

It uses taboo and shock to invite moral judgement, but then uses tone, charm and our instinct to look for the happiest end for our blorbos to get you to recognise that these are principles you yourself brought into the game, rather than any it’s handed you. 

To summarise: you’ve brought these principles in from society, but what do the siblings, the protagonists, the villains to the world, owe society? Enough that they should follow them? It failed them first, after all.

Closing Thoughts

This one is a bit less energetic than the last, tragically — my sleeping schedule is the stuff of nightmares recently, I love windy weather. Wait, no the opposite. Huge thank you to everyone who commented on the last one, you are the wind beneath my wings and the main reason I managed to get this out this week.

This essay is a bit more interpretative than my last one — certainly, there are alternative readings and I’ve been toying with the idea of deliberately taking a reading I don’t like very much and writing from that perspective as a demonstrative exercise recently — mostly that you shouldn’t just take my word for things!

Otherwise, if the last bit at the end seemed murky, I apologise — I did try to write a more detailed version, but firstly, it was three thousand words and secondly, I re-read it the next day and I could not understand what the fuck I was talking about. Personally, I blame Derrida — suffice to say that I strongly recommend playing through it with an eye towards considering culpability, morality and why you think certain characters are more or less forgivable than others, and for what deeds. See what you get out of it.

I managed to keep one particular thread open to wrap up with here —  I try to keep speculation on Episode 3 content to a minimum in the main essays, but it should be fine here — you might have noticed that I refer to Episode 1 and Episode 2 being on something of a spectrum of justifiability, with the siblings’ actions being ‘more’ justifiable in Episode 1 and ‘less’ justifiable — but still justifiable if you try — in Episode 2. 

To continue the thought of the happiest ending being the one in which they step the furthest away from common morality and to further jar the viewers’ sense of morality by contrasting societal morality and blorbo-oriented morality, Episode 3: Burial could continue this trend in having a major victim be someone who, well, has done nothing wrong and isn’t even guilty of bystander syndrome.

I wonder if there’s any good candidates, someone who’s sweet, harmless and will indisputably be an innocent victim…

…I’m sure she’ll be fine

[livingforstars]

The Barren Moon - October 31st, 1996.

"The above photo, taken as the Apollo 17 astronauts orbited the Moon in 1972, depicts the stark lunar surface around the Eratosthenes and Copernicus craters. Many similar images of a Moon devoid of life are familiar to denizens of the space age. Contrary to this modern perception, life on the Moon was reported in August of 1835 in a series of sensational stories first published by the New York Sun - apparently intended to improve the paper's circulation. These descriptions of lunar life received broad credence and became one of the most spectacular hoaxes in history. Supposedly based on telescopic observations, the stories featured full, lavish accounts of a Moon with oceans and beaches, teeming with plant and animal life and climaxing with the report of sightings of groups of winged, furry, human-like creatures resembling bats! Within a month the hoax had been revealed but the newspaper continued to enjoy an increased readership. Though barren, the Moon remains a popular setting for science fiction stories and extra-terrestrial adventures."

[permetutotheworld]

for marauders halloween im doing a thing

send me a song and ill try to relate it to them

EG- the hoax taylor swift: and ill give an analysis

@choucon

@demigod-jack-hearth

@loulooser

@l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft

@alittletoo-obsessed

@eden66633

@t3ss4xstar

@wisteria-daydreams

@watchtheprongss

@alaskanskald

@niceofthenine

@giantskeletonfan2008

@mezsygfs

@moonandstarshangoutinbars

@franknfurtersencephalitis

@thatisntverycombefair

@teamtrisha

@imananqar

@yourfavouriteearthshaker

@hazy-lilac-dream

@charliecow

@the-official-failure

@dyingordeadinside

@fbkakebezijasenta

@isthislasagna124

@riordanverseaddict

@wretched-meadow

@romanticismforyourinnerlife

@lesbian-thesbian

@indigoviolet311

@ellemeditdance

@drdarine

@mahny

@librarymouses

@rosegranger1315

@catcomediansblog

@ivyfurrieart

@sarahparcakalt

@miss-multi45

@thecrazyone0

@thunderst0rmy

@furkurouonthesea

@reyna4ever

@izziehelper

@deliciouslightpenguin

@lesttiel

@guiliosstuff

@blueechidna6

@chaoschuckler

@im-on-crack-send-help

@pineapple-jackson

@doodlebugdpj

@chrisalismandtea

@lesbian-disaster-tm

@pbandjstudios

@h-h-h—and-someone

@saturnsconstellation

@clodyghost

@stars-and-leather

@ezkel

@therewasnofloorbtw

@dalia-mustafa

@sk8erboy

@sunshinetrebuchet

@3ash-the-ghost3

@nicolili

@wemlygust

@lizgranger128

@writers-ecstasy-and-pride

@mohammedmatat

@family-aya

@definitionoffuckup

@delinda24601

@baba-the-yagaa

@pinklongsleeves

@darkarcademaker

@existential-life-crisis

@tragedy-and-delight-hand-in-hand

@jaydahsworld

@hermslore

@telugu-girl-13

@starcrossedmoony

@aroseinmisery1248

@thoughtsfromb4

@anything-for-my-moony-1971

@ravensandcrowsandowlsohmy

@miloinouterspace

@equippedtolove

@ryuusei-nui

@professor-green-berries

@themortalityofundyingstars

@aria-di-angelo

@lienspien

@mycelestial001

@ineffablequeermoony

@purple-phesh-and-cheps

@4ut1smmcr34tur3

@aesthetic-writer18

@justafanbutcurious

@angelgendered

@almostdecaffeinatedfun

@pyromaniacbibliophile

@surgicalpatient

@taleofapart-timepoet

@drunken-devotion

@nyx-1566

@maya-j-e

@looniesposts

@cloud-makers-make-pollution

@samaayyad15

@soprobrochacho

@sevsalio

@uhhlifeig

@immenselyirritated

@cossie-fauchelevant

@enjolrevoir

@maglorslostsilmaril

@biggestqiblifan

@kingof7thhell

@fernandahd2023

@i-love-ulysses-butterflies

@theobutshark

@the-eclipse-is-in-me

@universegod8

@delusional-with-mel

@thetorturedwritersclub

@darwizzylover

@underratedalpaca

@nyx-taylors-version

@georgiaspeachy

@cool-lesbian-is-here

@4phr0d1t3s-child

@sassyphantomking

@kimdourden

@g1rasol

@forever-in-the-stxs

@rileywritesreblogs

@rainbowphades

@monowritestoomuch

@randominternetdog

@remuslupinkinnie-1979

@alphabetically-deranged

@jess-quillkiller

@pumpkin-gizzards

@novassann

@athena-of-ionia

@the-thing-in-the-dark

@the-woild-is-y-erster

@seewead-brian

@imma-be-an-enderman

@phoen1xr0se

@my-castles-crumbling

@degrading-m0ss

@g0blinm0de

@thatonegirlineveryfandom

@guesswhojusttt

@princesspeachthefroggy

@estherstarlight

@soupdeewoop

@bisexual-bat

@ivys-head-is-spinning

@marsmarauders

@stars-on-my-bedroom-ceiling

@breakthekeyandbehappy

@katya-is-cool

@kawaiibarty

@starsandmarsbars

@ravenwordss

@icarus-last-fall

@daddysclownboy

@mae-occasionally-reads

@aboooods-blog

@fruity-pontmercy

@yourlocalbadgerscales

@bell-jarring

@aca-ttaka

@garden-of-runar

@mountainrusing

@goobsie0

@mun-urufu

@marylily-my-beloved

@xenocollector

@dolokhoov

@ieatglowsticks

@uponthebarricade

@ashstillalive

@definitelynotawerewolf103

@cheekyboybeth

@fulladeroure

@irritatedthyme

@theoristswan5683

@thebookshoparoundthecorner

@faith-and-fairy-dust

@inezrable

@pycnanthemum

@almost-emerald-eyes

@rafaelthesilly

@possessedanddepressed

@ciorran

[hllywdwhre]

Hoax

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary: You debate leaving your identity as Batgirl behind for a certain villain that has caught your eye.

Warnings: None; let me know if I missed any

Word Count: 641

Notes: Credit to @slut4thebroken for the ‘baby bat’ nickname 🫶🏻 it’s now a favorite trope of mine with Crane

Based on the song ‘hoax’ by Taylor Swift.

My only one

My kingdom come undone

My broken drum

You have beaten my heart

Morals. You couldn’t let yours lapse. Your morals are what caused you to start working with Bruce in the first place, yet every time he called you “Baby Bat”, you felt your heart flutter in a way you knew you shouldn’t.

He was terrorizing the city with a plan to unleash a deadly amount of fear into the streets. It would cause Gotham to fall into something beyond anarchy and the cure would never be ready in enough time for you to stop it. It was terrorism, there was nothing else to describe it.

Yet, here you sat, with him standing in front of you, a look that was equal parts teasing and knowing on his face.

“You can’t ask me to stop being Batgirl, I can’t do it.” Your voice shook as you sat on his bed next to him.

“So your morals stop you from giving up Batgirl, but not from fucking and falling for the Scarecrow?” He asked, the familiar taunting emphasis on his alter ego’s name. The look on his face matched the taunting tone.

“There has to be a middle ground somewhere…” you began, voice desperate, “I won’t help Br- Batman when it comes to Scarecrow’s plots, but I won’t help you with them, either. I stay on the sidelines and only aid him in taking down others,” you offered, trying to come up with something that allowed you to keep Batgirl and Jonathan.

“You know that can’t be done. I work with others and they’re going to work with me,” he pointed out.

You let silence fill the air for your response, and for once, he didn’t fill the air with a know-it-all or sarcastic reply. He allowed your silence to sit.

Weeks later and you were sitting by someone’s side, watching as the city went into chaos.

“And your kingdom crumbles…” Jonathan said in a low voice that was distorted by the mask he wore.

The words sent a pang through your heart, but you ignored it.

“It was going to crumble anyways,” you replied with an equally distorted voice.

“Let’s move,” he told you, grabbing your hand and standing.

You stood up and followed him through one of the many tall buildings that filled Gotham, finding your horses in the lobby of the building, and moving to guide them outside before a third party made their presence known to the two of you.

“I thought it was you… I didn’t want to believe it,” Bruce said, causing you and Jonathan to whip around and look at where he was perched on one of the desks.

“Don’t,” Jonathan warned, his voice even more menacing while it was distorted.

As much as he had mocked you for the way your morals had caused such a…tumultuous beginning to your relationship, he didn’t allow for others to do the same.

“You traded one set of wings for another, and in doing so helped bring the downfall of Gotham,” Bruce said, his eyes behind the Batman mask being trained on you. “From Batgirl to the Sparrow…” he trailed off.

“You always underestimated her,” Jonathan said, stepping slightly in front of you, as if trying to protect you. “Do you understand why it’s now Sparrow?”

Bruce shook his head.

“Because Sparrows are often seen as harmless birds,” Jonathan answered, allowing your hand to rest on his arm as he continued on, “but in many cultures they represent death. That’s what you saw her as when she joined your side. A helper. Not a fighter that could bring more to you. You were afraid to weaponize her, but I saw the other side of her. The one that could be dangerous.”

He saw the side of you Bruce was afraid to weaponize, but he didn’t view it as a weapon. He saw all of you and viewed it as you.

[spectralseekerscarlett]

MOTHMAN

The Mothman is another fascinating cryptid with a rich history of sightings and lore. Here’s a detailed look at the Mothman:

Origins and History: The legend of the Mothman began in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, in the mid-1960s. The first reported sighting occurred on November 12, 1966, when five men digging a grave saw a man-like figure with wings. The most famous sighting happened on November 15, 1966, when two young couples reported a large flying creature with glowing red eyes.

Physical Description: Witnesses describe the Mothman as a humanoid figure standing between 6 to 7 feet tall, with a wingspan of 10 to 15 feet. Its most distinctive features are its large, glowing red eyes and its ability to fly at high speeds, often described as having bat-like or moth-like wings.

Behavior and Sightings: The Mothman is often reported to be seen around the Point Pleasant area, particularly near the old TNT area, a former World War II munitions site. Sightings often describe the creature as being able to fly without flapping its wings and emitting a high-pitched screech. It is sometimes seen standing in the middle of the road or chasing cars at high speeds.

Explanations and Theories: There are several theories about what the Mothman could be. Some suggest it might be a species of large bird, such as a sandhill crane or an owl, misidentified due to its unusual size and behavior. Others believe it could be a supernatural entity or an alien. Skeptics often attribute sightings to mass hysteria or hoaxes.

Cultural Impact: The Mothman has become a significant part of Point Pleasant’s identity, with annual festivals, a museum, and a statue dedicated to the creature. The legend was popularized by John Keel's book "The Mothman Prophecies," which was later adapted into a film in 2002. The Mothman has also appeared in various other media, including television shows, documentaries, and podcasts.

The Silver Bridge Collapse: One of the most tragic events associated with the Mothman is the collapse of the Silver Bridge on December 15, 1967, which resulted in the deaths of 46 people. Some believe that the Mothman sightings were an omen warning of the impending disaster, while others see it as a coincidence.

The Mothman remains one of the most intriguing and enduring cryptids, with ongoing interest and research into its origins and sightings.

[blackbird5154]

Another fan theory about Square Hammer

At first glance, in the music video, we have two Papas confronting each other. Terzo-the-actor is terrified that the plot of the movie has gone off script, and then he is haunted by his demonic counterpart. But remember how the music video ends: Spectre and Papa-the-actor look at each other, and the same fire glances in their eyes.

What if Papa is the one actually running this whole demonstration? There was a projector in the cinema theater that at one point was engulfed in green lightning bolts. Green lightning is Papa's power, right? What if the huge figure in the sky was not a ghost, but a projection?

The whole thing looks like a spectacular hoax conceived by Papa. Let's remember that he's something of a Batman (there's a reason the ghost-signal, similar to the bat-signal, appears in the music video). Papa leads the life of a successful actor/singer, drives a limousine, and at night fights the local cultists/oligarchs in the guise of Misterious Spectre, according to the paper. And he clearly doesn't need anyone to know that Bruce Wayne and Batman are the same person.

This seems like a modus operandi of exactly that character. He unleashes his huge projection on the city to create an alibi for himself. Batman can't be Bruce, since they were seen in the same location. Ozymandias can't be the villain, because he himself was the target of an assassination attempt (which he staged himself). Recall how Spectre stretched his arm out of the screen and reached into the audience, but without reaching Papa. Remember how Papa was demonstratively frightened and with what a calm face he let that hand pass over him.

Now back to the beginning. In the City, Papa has quarreled with the local rulers and is at war with them. He seeks to take away their power (energy supply/authority), and he's like Prometheus for stealing a piece of celestial fire and running away with it. Question: what for was all this demonstration over the city and what did Papa really want to pull off while everyone was distracted by the kaiju ghost and panicking? Was it an act of intimidation or a distraction so Papa-the-actor could fulfill his real plan? And what does this have to do with Cardinalis cardinalis?

[bat-hoax]

Acryla gouache on 12" x 18" watercolor painting

[angstandhappiness]

LMAO

How did Rouge managed to live with Shadow’s borderline silver fetish for so long? 

id prefer if you didnt call it that, thanks but

she used to be able to get him to take it off whenever he was at home, insisting he was safe there, but then hoax entered his life and made rouges life 10 times harder

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: We speak to those beyond. 3668 words.

1986

Time was not linear. Nor was it circular. It was an overlapping collage of everything that had ever happened. A compressed murder board. A grimoire swallowed whole. Eddie remembered it all.

A century of Eptesicus fuscus, a shell of consciousness. Hawkins. A sickness. A witch’s healing hand. Before that, the flatlands. A coven. You. Oh, you, his little witch.

“Those are not your apples.” Cleansing crystals by moonlight. Amabel, little witch. Lonely vampire. Collecting flowers and berries. Green milkweed. Unconditional good. A forest gate. “Bloodline magic, far and wide.” A bet, a kiss, and a name.  “I envy your world of absolutes. And I love you so.” Marguerite du Bruyeres’ letters to Guillaume du Bruyeres. Unmistakably vampire carnage. Blood of my blood.

Eddie let you slip onto the pillow, then escaped out of the trailer and into the early morning. The sun would rise soon but he needed to move. Run. Scream.

The sisters – Sally and Gillian. Penelope, the spellcaster. “By your hand he is taken and I die on this night, or you let us go and free yourself of this burden.” Transformation. Walking through the grass. Black-eyed Susan, tansy, elecampane, yellow carnation, cyclamen. Blood of my blood.

He remembered who he was before you. And before Roanoke. His accent and gait may have changed, but he was the same sad, doomed soul he’d been then. Still a monster.

Eddie sobbed. He went to the forest gate on the outskirts of town and laid in the grass, looking up at the starry sky, letting the shame and horror and regret drown him.

What was he to do? How would he tell you? Should he tell you? Would you be able to see it on his face?

He waited until the very last minutes of night to return to Forest Hills. Eddie moved slowly through the town; slowly, at least, for him. He could picture it all now, how it used to be. The dirt roads. The vacuum of quiet that proceeded the era of constant electrical white noise.

You slept well into the morning, but roused yourself before midday. Eddie was watching Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope. He seemed immersed, so you went about making breakfast. Assam tea with cocoa husks. Oatmeal with sultanas and brown sugar.

There was an awkwardness to Eddie when you sat next to him, curling up close enough to touch. Your mind cycled through possibilities with rapid fire speed. The notion it kept circling back to was – did he regret kissing you?

“Chewie reminds me of the creatures that live in the woods. Have you seen them? Over in the north-west?” you asked, trying to break the ice.

Eddie nodded. “They are shy,”

“Yeah. The humans don’t know about them. Well. They do, but most of them think it’s a hoax. They’re considered cryptids… Which is like, an animal or creature that may or may not exist…” You were rambling. “When they see one, they call it Bigfoot… But Chewie definitely looks like one.”

Eddie didn’t answer. You hadn’t appeared to notice the significance of him remembering something, even something innocuous like the existence of things in the woods.

You finished eating, washed your dishes, and returned to the couch. Star Wars ended and you had no real choice but to address the atmosphere.

“Are you okay?” you asked Eddie.

He looked at you, something in his expression you couldn’t quite place. He nodded. “Yes… Perhaps on edge regarding what your Witches will tell,”

“Yeah… Well then, let’s not put it off any longer.”

Directing Eddie to sit across the room, you knelt at your altar and lit two candles. A pale blue candle for truth. A darker indigo candle for intuition and breaking through illusion. With paper in front of you and a pen in hand, you closed your eyes.

The Witches Who Came Before were always with you, so you needn’t call for them. Instead, you spoke to them with clear intention.

“It is not my place to question you. But it is your place to guide me. To offer truth. Long ago, you foretold of us leaving the flatlands. Then, you warned me of returning. What would have happened if I had heeded that warning?”

The temperature of the room dropped and the air grew thick. Eddie felt his skin tingle and prickle, a frisson of fear and excitement running through him.

“I know you see him for what he is. Without him, Vecna would not have been defeated. Can you say without doubt that he would have been without my intervention?”

It was a challenge to them. If you and Eddie hadn’t destroyed Vecna, could your coven have stopped him? Could all the witches in the world have stop him? Maybe, sure. However, somewhere deep down you knew the answer. Vecna did not belong to this plane of existence. He wasn’t even of the world he inhabited. And a witch can only fight within the boundaries of the natural world.

If you had not come to Hawkins, if you had not found the bat and restored Eddie to his vampire form, Vecna would have taken the town, then the world.

The Witches were silent. It told you that you were right.

“You said that not all callings are sanctified, but that the voice calling me was coming into focus for you. Do you know what brought me here?”

The flames flickered and your hand picked up the signal. The words scrawled along the paper faster than you could read.

“Life and Death have no voice… They do not come calling in the night,” The Witches said. “Their siblings are to follow suit, yet they are wayward in their youth,”

“Which of their siblings called to me?” you asked.

“Destiny was formed in shattered ruins.”

The letters were so unfamiliar, you weren’t sure which witch was speaking to you. It didn’t matter. You had an answer. Destiny had broken free of the rules and reached out to you, urging you to come to Hawkins.

“If I was fated to return to Hawkins, then I was fated to find him?”

Y. E. S. was written over and over, the word tracing itself again and again.

“Why me?”

“Like calls to like. Fate to fate. Love to love,” they said. “History will not repeat itself,”

“A history I do not remember.”

For a moment, quiet. “Lore must be rewritten. You must remember.”

You looked over at Eddie, who could not see any of the words on the page. He was watching you intently, something so human behind his eyes.

“How?” you asked The Witches. “How can I remember?”

“By definition. Blood for blood. Magic for magic.”

You didn’t understand but it felt like enough information that you could figure it out. There was one more thing you needed to know. “The coven… Did I betray them or have they betrayed me?”

“Knowledge is… a creator’s prerogative.”

The pen dropped and the flames were snuffed by an unseen power. You breathed out and read the pages again. Eddie came to sit opposite you. He took the paper.

“Destiny is… a sentient thing?” Eddie asked.

“It’s not meant to be. Forces like fate and life and death shouldn’t… proactively… change the course of what happens on Earth. Not for good reason,”

“I assume we will not hear this reason from Destiny,”

“No… But… It’s an answer. I was called here to find you so we could kill Vecna.”

It was a hypothesis you had both considered. It should have felt satisfying to have it confirmed, yet it was a shallow kind of resolution.

“And, it had to be you,” Eddie said. He knew why it had to be you. No other witch would have saved a vampire. It pained him to see you confused and lost.

“When I get my memories back, I’ll know why it had to be me,”

“By definition. Blood for blood. Magic for magic,” Eddie read off the page. You nodded. “By definition, you are a witch, you are magic. Therefore, it is through magic that you will find your memories,” he reasoned.

It clicked into place in your mind. “And by definition, you are a vampire… blood… so… Through blood you’ll get yours back?” you guessed.

When you looked up at Eddie, you expected to see your own excited expression mirrored. Instead, there was restraint. He broke eye contact almost immediately and began to nod, standing up and walking away.

“Yes. Although I don’t-” he began.

“Stop,” you whispered.

You got up and followed him across the room, he took a step to move away from you but you grabbed him by the wrist. Eddie was helpless as you squinted your eyes and studied his face. When you figured it out, a small gasp slipped from your lips and you let go of him.

As you went to speak, your voice cracked and you had to start again. “How long?”

Eddie said your name with too much softness.

“No. No. Don’t… Don’t do that. How long have you remembered? Do you remember everything? When… When did you remember?” You felt like you were going to throw up.

It hurt.

Not the nausea or the sudden headache, but the deceit. You had thought you and Eddie were a united front. A team. But he had lied to you.

“Only last night, but-”

“Last night?! Was that before or after we…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Now that your face was contorted with fear and sadness, Eddie’s mirror yours.

“Please, let me tell you. I’ll tell you everything,” he begged. His hand reached out; he wanted to brush the tears from your cheeks.

You flinched and Eddie moved back in response.

Had you been stupid to trust a vampire? Was everything you felt about Eddie misguided? Were all your bad decisions going to lead to a reckoning, where excommunication was the best outcome you could hope for?

Eddie wanted desperately to spill it all out. To tell you everything that had happened in 1836. To warn you against trusting your coven. To help you find your memories, and maybe Kelsey’s too. But the more he pushed, the more you pulled away. He’d never had faith in anything, but he demanded it of himself in that moment. Have faith in fate. Have faith in his little witch.

Your mind was having trouble holding any one thought. Normally, you’d be cycling through them all, but it felt like your brain was empty. Long hallways leading to unfurnished rooms. Cavernous spaces. Haunted. You were frozen on the spot, watching Eddie watch you. Then, everything came into sharp focus at the sound of a knock on the trailer’s front door.

The tension was popped and you choked back a half-sob. Eddie hid himself in the bedroom, closing the door behind him, as you answered. He climbed onto the bed and curled up, regret washing over him as he closed his eyes and listened.

Sunlight poured in as the door swung open, Robin and Nancy’s shadows casting long across the trailer’s carpet. You frowned, at first, confused by their appearance. The grief was so intense that it was almost an entity standing beside them. You understood then.

“Hey,” Nancy greeted weakly.

“Hi,” you replied.

It felt strange following a normal social script with them. Yet, you all persisted.

“This is Dustin,” she introduced, taking a step to reveal a child standing behind her.

You knew who he was and nodded politely in his direction. He was already crying. Sighing, you looked away from them, out at Forest Hills. Life was returning to it, but you had been too busy with your own shit to notice.

“It might be too early for this,” you told them.

“It’s past midday,” Robin countered.

“No, I mean, too early in the grieving process. It’s only been a couple days,” you explained.

“Are you saying that… He won’t… Answer us… yet? Or that we aren’t ready to talk to him?” Nancy asked. “Because, no offense, but you don’t know us well enough to tell us if we’re ready,”

“We’re ready,” Robin added.

You sucked your bottom lip in, forgetting the split. You winced at the pain, tasted the blood. The blood. Was that how Eddie got his memory back? Had he kissed blood from your mouth and found history in it?

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” Dustin squeaked. The boy’s face was pure misery. His nose was red from rubbing it with tissues. His eyes were bloodshot. He was clenching his jaw.

Stepping aside, you nodded. “Okay. Come in.”

Eddie stayed where he was, knowing it was not his place to intrude on such a private event.

You cleared the altar in the middle of the lounge room and directed the teens to sit around it. They watched as you gathered items from around the place and mumbled to yourself while scribbling into a notebook.

“Where there is death, there have always been attempts to commune with the dead. It is not a practice that belongs strictly to witches. Since the beginning of time, humans have sought out methods to speak to those they’ve lost. Where connection has been made, it is usually more to do with the dead than the methods of the living, but nonetheless, it has happened.”

Nancy was listening intently, ever the student. Robin and Dustin both looked at each other, sharing inpatient expressions.

“It’s important to understand history. If you want to participate in the craft, you owe it at least that,” you told them. “Our way of bridging us and them is dependent on the dead. How they appear is dictated by them entirely,”

“What does that mean?” Nancy asked.

“It means, I can send them a message and open the doorway, but if and how they walk through it has nothing to do with me. They could send a single message back. Just an echo I hear. Their form may appear, ready to hold conversation. Alternatively, they may close the door and lock it. You need to be prepared for any of these outcomes,”

“He’ll want to talk to us,” Dustin said. “I know he will.”

You hoped he was right.

If the altar was at the center of an invisible pentagram, you placed an object at each point. A small plate of chunks of cedarwood, burning slowly. Black onyx. Sprigs of vervain. A bowl of moon water. Finally, a white candle burning at where the top of the pentagram would be.

You sat at the altar and used a pin to open a tiny wound in your finger. Closing your eyes and letting the blood roll down your hand, you spoke. “I offer my blood, the blood of a born witch, in payment of passage into the ether.” You opened your eyes and looked at the teens. “You can call to him,” you instructed.

They looked between themselves, silently figuring out who would go first. Naturally, Nancy took a deep breath in. Her eyes glazed over with tears. Her voice was small. “Steve? Are you there?”

She looked to you for guidance; you nodded for her to continue.

“Steve… It’s Nancy… Robin and Dustin are here too… We…” She had to stop to steel her nerves. “We miss you. And. Um. We… we wanted…” It was suddenly impossible for her to say the words ‘to say goodbye.’ Nancy started to cry.

“Hey- hey, dingus,” Robin took over. “Are you there? You’re probably busy… hitting on ghost chicks already… But, um, if you could just… just tune in for a minute…”

Everyone’s attention snapped to the bowl of water as it shook and spilled. You felt him first. Warmth. Steve Harrington felt warm.

“He’s here,” you told them. “He’s listening.”

They all focused, trying to sense what you did. Slowly, his outline was becoming visible to you. He was behind his friends, leaning against the trailer’s wall, by the door. Steve’s arms were crossed against his chest and one leg was folded, foot flat against the wall. He appeared casual, already at peace with his death.

“Your friends wanted to say goodbye to you,” you said to him.

“Are you like…” Steve waved his hands in the air. “Like a witch?”

You nodded.

“All this is… Are you a- a good witch?”

“Was that a genuine question or are you quoting The Wizard of Oz?” you asked him.

Robin covered her face with her hands as Dustin rolled his eyes.

“I thought dying, might, you know, level him up?” Dustin whispered through his tears.

“I can hear you,” Steve said.

“Does he know we tried… we…” Nancy cut through the comedy with her grief, getting stuck on her words again.

Steve nodded. He moved through the trailer, his form semi-transparent and snapping with residual energy. He sat next to you, looking over at his friends. 

“He knows you tried to save him. He knows you didn’t want to leave him there,” you told them.

“Tell Dustin that he doesn’t need to feel guilty. I’m glad he wasn’t there,” Steve said.

“It’s good you weren’t there, Dustin. Steve is thankful you were safe and that you didn’t have to see him in the end,”

“And tell him that he’s the coolest kid I ever knew. That I figured that out on the train tracks. He’s cool and he’s so smart. Twice as smart as me. More, probably. He’s gonna grow up and be the kind of man I wish I was.”

You watched Steve as he spoke. The way he looked at Dustin with admiration in his eyes. Like this kid who probably worshipped him was actually the hero of the group.

You relayed Steve’s message word-for-word. Dustin whimpered and let Nancy wrap an arm around him.

“Thanks, man,” Dustin managed to get out. “I love you.”

Steve looked to Robin next. “I don’t know how to explain it to her,” he told you.

“It’s okay. I think she’ll understand,”

“Yeah… That’s it though. She gets me. And I get her. Like… I feel normal around her. I can just be… me. She’s my best friend… I have a shit load of regrets but not knowing Robin sooner is right at the top of that list. Tell her… that she’s so much braver than she thinks she is. And that she’s smart in a way nobody else is… And that she totally deserves to be loved. And not by some girl who keeps it a secret. Nothing like that. She deserves the whole love story movie thing… romantic comedy with the happy ending. Can you tell her that?”

You could and you did.

Robin nodded to herself in a self-soothing action, then pulled her knees up to her chest and started to rock. Steve frowned at her.

“Tell her that she should still go on the trip we were thinking about,”

“He says you should still go on the trip,” you said to her.

Robin barked out a broken laugh. “Sunshine, beers, and babes,” she said.

“Oh! And tell her if someone pauses Fast Times at Ridgemont High at 53 minutes and 5 seconds, she knows what it means.”

Robin laughed again and nodded. “Noted.”

Steve nodded along with her. “Maybe she should take Nancy on the trip. They’d actually make really good friends if they got to know each other,”

“I think they’re doing that,” you told him.

“That’s good…” He looked at Nancy. “I had the chance to tell her everything, near the end. Got some of it… Tell her… Shit. I don’t know how to say it without sounding like I’m blowing smoke up her ass,”

“You’re up Nancy. He needs a second. Says he doesn’t know how to tell you what he needs to without sounding like he’s blowing smoke up your ass.”

Everyone laughed. Except Steve. He held his hands up in question. “What the hell, man? You said you were a good witch!”

You liked Steve.

“Okay… She needs to really believe what I told her. About how she really helped me stop being such an asshole. And that it’s okay how it ended between us. I was stuck in the present but Nancy sees the future. Big plans, you know? She should know that’s a good thing.”

As soon as you started to give Nancy the message, she burst into tears again.

“Tell her that I love that she always trusts her gut. And that she’ll always look so hot with a shotgun… And tell her that I’ll say hi to Barb for her.”

The room fell into silence after the last of Nancy’s goodbye was said. Nobody was ready to move on just yet. After a few minutes of reflection, Steve’s form began to flicker. He knew what it meant. When you sat up straight, the others all looked at you.

“I gotta go,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” you replied softly. “Here. Hold my hand.”

Steve frowned, unsure of what would happen. Still, he thought it best to do what a good witch said. He took your hand and felt a zap of electricity or something magic.

“Any last words?” you asked him.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. The others all gasped. Steve looked to them then back to you. “They can hear me?”

Robin started to sob again. Dustin nodded.

“Oh, shit, okay. Shit… Hi… Shit…”

“It’s okay,” you told him, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah… Uh… Just… It’s okay, you know? It… it had to be this way. There’s already plenty of Steves in the world, you know? But there’s only one Dustin Henderson. One Robin Buckley. One Nancy Wheeler. The world needs you guys. So, it’s okay. I’m okay. I love you.”

The others cried and said goodbye. They held each other and let themselves feel it all.

Steve’s hand slowly faded out of yours, until there was nothing left but his warmth and the memory of him etched into his friends' minds like love letters swiped through wet concrete.

End Note: This chapter was written very much in collab with @dr-aculaaa, my resident Steve expert. Thank you so much! I hope you like how the scene turned out.

Chapter seventeen is a little bit of an interlude, it's an ode to both Steve and to the magic that runs through this story. But also... now she knows Eddie knows... yikes.

Grimoire updated!

Fic Taglist:  @paranoidmunson  @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel

[justmystyles]

Can you make Harry paint me like one of his French girls? 🥵

Ooh La La

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.2k

summary: after a revelation on movie night, you and Harry decide to reenact one of the scenes.

warnings: a couple of curse words, and nudity.

a/n: love love love this ask! ngl, there have been a couple of pictures and videos where i've genuinely seen a resemblance to titanic Leo, and middle school me came out of hiding to thank me for my stedfast taste in men.

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

“I just brought the whole bottle this time, so we don’t have to keep pausing it.” Harry announced as he returned to the living room. He handed you the glass of wine he had refilled for you while placing the rest of the bottle on the table beside him. 

“Okay, but you didn’t have to pause it. You’ve seen this movie how many times?” You tease as he takes a seat on the couch, pulling your legs back into his lap. 

Harry gasps dramatically, bringing his hand to his chest. “It’s Titanic you don’t just walk away from Titanic!” 

You roll your eyes, taking a sip from your glass as you resume the movie. Harry had a few days off, so you were enjoying the time locked away from the world, watching movies, drinking wine and enjoying each other’s company. 

As the movie continued, Harry was absentmindedly rubbing your calves, eyes focused on the television. You suddenly noticed something causing your gaze to move back and forth between the screen and Harry’s face multiple times.

He finally noticed, turning his attention to you with a curious expression. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” you smirked. “I just, with your hair like that you kind of give off like these Leo, Jack Dawson vibes.”

Harry arched a brow at you. “Oh really?” You giggled and nodded your head. “Is this your way of asking me to paint you like one of my French girls?” You shrug coyly and bat your eyelashes. “I’d be down.” 

“Yeah?” You ask. This wasn’t actually where you expected this conversation to go, you were just making an observation. But now that he’s brought it up, the idea kind of excites you.

“Yeah,” he responded with a cocky smirk. “But you have to ask the right way.” 

You let out a bark of laughter, but his face doesn’t falter and you can tell that he means it. You take another sip of wine before placing the glass on the end table next to you. You pull your feet out of Harry’s lap and tuck them underneath you, crawling closer to Harry, just shy of meeting nose to nose. 

“Harry,” you say in a breathy whisper. “I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.” 

A low growl emerges from the back of his throat before he pulls you in for a deep kiss, resting his hand on the back of your head to hold you in place. When he finally lets you go, you pull away to see him smiling. “Go get ready and meet me back here.” 

You saunter out of the room, putting an extra sway in your hips knowing that Harry was watching. You hurry into the bedroom, where you undress and place your robe on, tying it in front of you. 

When you return, you find Harry placing a chair in front of the couch. You lean against the doorframe and clear your throat. He looks up and takes you in from head to toe, he looks you in the eyes and gives you a lopsided grin. 

“Madame,” he steps up to you. He takes your hand, lifting it to his lips to brush a kiss across your knuckles. He then leads you to the couch. 

You play with the tie of your robe, suddenly feeling bashful. You’re not sure why, it’s not like Harry had never seen you naked before. He was just usually also naked, there wasn’t any balance in this scenario. “Is this weird? This is kind of weird, right?” You look up at Harry with some uncertainty in your eyes. 

“We don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable, love.” He places a hand on your back, stroking in soft circles. 

“No no no, I want to. Sorry.” You move to the other end of the couch where your wine glass lies, throwing your head back and finishing the contents. 

Harry chuckles at the display. “Did that help?” The laughter dies as you untie the robe and let it fall to the floor. His eyes roam every inch of your body. You feel a nervous thrill run through you. “Wow,” he gasped. 

Your nose crinkles as a blush fills your cheeks. “So… uh, where do you want me?” 

He continues to stare for a moment before your words register in his mind. “Oh, um, just right there on the couch.” He points to the couch, picking up the pad placed on his chair and taking a seat. 

You shift around for a few moments trying to find a position that is comfortable, but also as flattering as possible. “Is this alright?” You ask once you’ve finally found a position you think will work. 

“Fucking perfect,” Harry says, his voice just above a whisper. 

You smile softly and watch on as he observes you for another moment. You clear your throat as a reminder of what the whole point of this was. He blinks a couple of times, smiling sheepishly before taking pen to paper and beginning to draw. 

As Harry continued his masterpiece, you watched on. He seemed to actually be taking this seriously. You giggled when you saw his tongue poke out of the side of his mouth in concentration. When he heard that, he looked up with a furrowed brow. Your eyes went wide, and you mouthed an apology to him. He narrowed his eyes jokingly before getting back to work. 

After a while, Harry slips his pen behind his ear. “Finished. Come take a look.” You stand from the couch and reach for your robe. “Ah ah ah,” Harry stops you. “Stay like that and come over here.” He pats his hand against his thigh.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth and comply, stepping closer and sitting in his lap. His arm immediately comes around your waist, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Alright Picasso, let’s see what you’ve got.” You lean into his chest as he flips the pad showing you his drawing. 

You look it over, quickly rolling your lips between your teeth to stop you from laughing. He really did try, you didn’t want to make him feel bad. 

“Well? What do you think?” He asks. 

“I can see that you put a lot of effort into it,” you say, trying to stay positive. 

“But?” He asks, knowing what you’re doing. 

You let out a loud breath. “But it’s really good that you’ve got that whole singing thing to fall back on.” When he laughs at your comment, you can’t help but join in. “I will say, it is good to finally find something you’re bad at.”

His eyes went wide in faux shock. “I mean I know it’s not amazing, but I didn’t think it was bad!” 

“Bull shit,” you laugh, pressing a kiss to his lips. You try to pull away, but he follows your mouth, kissing you even deeper. When you finally separate to catch your breath, you bring your hand do the collar of his shirt. “How about we even the score?” 

“Why? Are you going to draw me now?” He asked with an arched brow. 

“I’ll do whatever you want as long as it gets you out of these clothes.” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Brief history of this request! 🤡 I originally wrote this as a response to it; the original interaction went up a little while before the book 7 part 3 update was released… and that update happened to give us a lot more information about the Shroud family dynamics. It was unfortunately bad timing!

This post is a rewrite which incorporates the new Shroud family canon from the update.

***Contains major plot spoilers for book 6 of the main story!***

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

The students of Night Raven College had become accustomed to rather odd sightings—so when young Ortho Shroud sailed by them with two floating tablets in tow, no one batted an eye at it. That shut-in brother of his, the rumor was, maybe he multiplied. In a sense, there was truth to that theory.

“It’s so nice to have the whole family together!” gushed a woman’s squeaky voice from one device. “Isn’t it, Papa? Everyone’s so busy, we hardly get to do these kinds of things anymore.”

Beside her, her husband cleared his throat. He replied with a blunt, somewhat stiff, “Mmm, quite. It is… certainly a different environment than the laboratory.”

Idia didn’t know which was worse—his mother’s smothering cuteness, or his father’s calculating aloofness. The love and the logic. In anime and manga, they were amusing enough archetypes. But in reality? Cringe with a capital C, especially when they were acting as a unit in public.

He could feel the heat of his peers’ gazes directed at him as they passed like phantoms trailing over a graveyard. The curiosity, the whispers, the stares. The only thing that was keeping Idia sane was the safety offered by his tablet’s screen.

Hunkered down in his Ignihyde bedroom, he was safe from direct judgment—but not free of the embarrassment his parents provided. No, that was always eternal.

“Wh-Why did you guys even bothering showing up on the NRC Family Day banner…” Idia grumbled under his breath. Man, the one time I didn’t want to pull the SSRs… and they came home anyway!

There was an appalled gasp from the end of the line. “Of course Mama and Papa came! It’s Family Day. It’s a time us parents to see what mischief our genius little boys have gotten up to while they’re away!”

Idia couldn’t see his mother’s image on her screen, but he could only imagine she was winking in a conspiring manner to Mr. Shroud. He would give an awkward smile beneath his helmet and probably say something in agreement with her.

“Ideally, we’ve have liked to come in person,” his mother continued.

Mr. Shroud cleared his voice and neatly cut in. “However, with the recent incident… well, let’s just say we’ve had to lay low and wait for the dust to settle. My staff are working overtime moderating the metrics of this situation.”

“Quite right, dear! We can’t exactly waltz into Night Raven College! It would put us at risk of being scrutinized, especially with all the viral internet rumors swirling around.”

“Shadowy secret organization puppeteers Twisted Wonderland,” Mr. Shroud recited, shaking his head in disapproval, “Lizard people real, global warming is a hoax, tap water turning the frogs gay… Where do the youths come up with such preposterous claims?”

They’re covering their bases, Idia told himself. After that incident… We never wiped the subjects’ memories with the River Lethe. It exposes a chink in our armor—they could talk, spread what they know.

Then… Th-There’s no way people wouldn’t be curious. Internet sleuths with nothing better to do will dig up dirt from the most obscure corners of the web and tout it as truth!! That’s why even STYX has been having such a hard time containing it.

“What are you gonna do? Haters gonna hate.” Idia shrugged. “… I get it. You don’t have to go explaining yourselves to us. It’s a waste of breath.”

Cynicism slipped in at the last second. A habit, hard to squash.

Ortho chimed in, clearing the air with his cheer. “Nii-san’s right! What’s important is that we get to spend time together, bonding like any other family does.”

He extended his arms to them, as if reaching for hands to hold. Bur though there was nothing for the android to grasp, there was no hiding his effervescent smile. “I’m really happy that we can do this!”

Idia’s heart, so familiar with the ice that encased the Phantoms and the chill of Tartarus, melted. “Ortho…”

An ear-splitting squeal came from one of the tablets. “Kyaaaah! You’re so cute, Or-kun!! Mama wishes she was right there on Sage’s Island to squish your little face!! You too, Idia-kun! Don’t think you can escape from your mother!”

Mr. Shroud’s voice dragged into a patient sigh. “We discussed keeping a low profile.”

“Aww, but papa!” (Idia could practically hear the pout in her tone.) “It’s a parent’s instinct to want to hug and shower her children with love~”

“Y-You’re going to attract unwanted attention though…” Idia nervously pointed out—one thing he could see eye-to-eye with his father on. They were split down the middle.

Through his camera, he could already spot passerbys slowing and staring. Sweat collected on his palms, on his forehead.

“What’s going on over there…?”

“There’s a boy with blue flames for hair.”

“Is he a Shroud?”

“He has weird things floating around him.”

Unperturbed, Ortho waved at the curious gawkers. “Hello!! I’m spending time with my family today!” he announced with his full chest out.

“Aw, what an adorable kid.”

“Are they phoning in? Gosh, they must be busy—but they still care enough to attend. That’s great!”

“Have fun with your family, champ!!”

Eh? Ehhhhh?! What’s what this after-school special I’m seeing play out?! Everyone’s so upbeat and sparkling… a-almost like one of Cater-shi’s impossible Magicam filters was just applied to the whole campus!!

Something in Idia wanted to scoff at the sight, to dismiss it outright. For as long as he could remember, the Shrouds had been shunned by the sunlight. A bloodline cursed by the gods. Never to be heroes, never normal.

But if Ortho is happy, then… this was all worth it, wasn’t it?

Yet something else, too, called out. Some small, almost forgotten, fragmented part of him. A small flower growing in the darkest pits of the Underworld.

Hope.

A zero that had suddenly turned into 0.001%. Connected again, heart to heart—even if only for a single fleeting moment.

“… Dad, mom, Ortho,” Idia said slowly, “we can’t stand around like NPCs waiting to be talked to. We’ll miss out on the limited time event. Let’s go, the whole party.”

“Nii-san…!!”

Ortho’s whole face lit up, his joy turning absolutely electric. He nearly tackled Idia’s device as he seized it and spun in a giddy circle. There was laughter from the younger Shroud, and confused sputtering from the elder one.

“Would you look at that, Papa?” Mrs. Shroud giggled softly to herself. “It looks like our boys have become such good friends.”

“… That’s good,” her husband replied. “I was concerned that Idia was still beside himself with grief—but thankfully, he’s made tremendous progress.”

“Ehehehe. It’s all thanks to Or-kun coming into our lives. He ended up being the password to unlocking Idia’s almost impenetrable fire walls.”

“Indeed. Our children have come a long way.” The corners of Mr. Shroud’s lips threatened to pull up and back. “No longer boys, but young men.”

[itsgrimeytime]

Home is Where the Heart is (Part Four) || Farmer!Rick Grimes (TWD) x Teacher!GN!reader AU

Part 1, 2, 3...

Taglist: @1tsk1tty

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Like Real People Do by Hozier.

Summary: Your life was spinning out of control, you knew that. After a string of particularly shattering events, you decided it was time to start anew. With a little help from one of your Grandma's rentals, you found yourself in the small town of Alexandria. The last thing you expected was your neighbor, Rick Grimes.

TWS: flirting, bad relationships, abandonment issues, and self-destructing the good things.

[[A/N: Just know the vibes for Rick in this one are Bucky-based. Like Marvel Winter Soldier character. anyway... Thanks for reading!!! ]]

He wasn't talking, was the first thing you noticed. Which was weird, it wasn't like you were paying attention to him, but he was the one who invited you- whatever.

You were staring, you knew that, but it was just a little dumbfounding. He spoke little, only a few people here and there and when they tried to push farther, he clammed up.

But not with you.

You had in fact been sticking to his side all evening -including during the grilling.

"Y'er gonna wanna wait 'til it's a nice brown," he hummed, motioning to the grill, "-then, flip it."

He was teaching you how to flip burgers, which you kind of already knew but you'd take it from him. Rick's voice was very nice what could you say, you were a simple person.

"Is there any sort of timing into it?" you asked.

"Well, yeah, there's-"

And he paused, eyes locked onto something behind you in a sort of sharpened stare. One you'd never seen before. There were all sorts of new features of Rick's you were discovering.

"What's-" you turned to look.

There was a woman there, tall and slim -beautiful. She had long brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a face sculpted to perfection. The woman seemed to notice Rick and instantly waved a sort of awkward little hand -uncomfortable. You probably would be too if such a glance was leveled at you.

In a fit of courage, you asked, "Whose that?"

Rick didn't respond for a moment, eyes staring straight at her -he looked a little lost. Something in the blue was a deep sort of bitter, but another part was... sad.

"Hey," you stepped in front of his eyes, "-everything okay, Rick?"

He sighed, blue eyes landing on yours, something releasing at the sight of you -the tension in his shoulders. You didn't want to analyze that today.

"My ex-wife."

Oh, something in your mind went blank as you peered back at her but she was now gone from the gate.

"Was she..." you echoed, slowly, "-invited?"

"No," he sighed -a deep one, "-my son probably... It doesn't matter."

"Do you want me to..." you started, a bit nervously, "-stick with you? Maybe ward her away?"

"What like-" he started all gruff voice and hands, sort of awkward, "-like we're datin'?"

"Well, maybe...?" you answered, unsure, "-I was thinking more flirty? Just to keep her at bay, nothing more awkward for an ex-wife, yeah?"

"Well..."

"Does she live around here?" you asked.

He huffed out, "No, but I... just ain't sure with lyin'."

"Who said I was lying, loverboy," you winked at him (and you swore you saw his ears flush), "-but it's only whatever you're comfortable with."

"I think," he hummed, before matching your eyes -thoughtfully, "-yeah, okay. Just one day."

"Just one day," you parroted back, sliding yourself into his side and grabbing his arm, "-wanna go fetch a drink, Mr. Grimes?"

He grinned, in a sort of dazed way -you wondered why for a second, "Yeah, okay."

And so you stayed by his side the entire night, hands lingering and batting your eyes every once in a while -playing the part was strangely natural to you. He reciprocated actions, taking halfway through that night to call you 'darlin' and sometimes even sneaking his hand at the base of your waist -guiding you.

"You okay?" he whispered, the night was over and the party slowly dimmed down, it was just the two of you out here. Yet, he gathered you into his side and wrapped an arm (calloused fingers pressed into your shoulder) around you.

"Yeah," you hummed -mind lit up with memories, memories you were running from, "-just thinking."

"What about?"

Tears gather in your eyes, and you wipe them away -it felt so natural to do so, "Someone I shouldn't."

He fell quiet, only rubbing his hand down your arm -back and forth, back and forth. You took a chance and leaned into his shoulder, nothing romantic then, just... just support.

"Will ya tell me one day?" he asked, genuinely -the rumble of his throat echoing through your head.

"Maybe," you spoke softly, before teasing, "-if you're nice."

Rick laughed, and you felt something in you flicker like a lightbulb -you pushed the warmth away. Despite how good this felt, you couldn't have this. You swore-

"Everythin' alright?"

You sighed, slowly removing yourself from his arm, "Yeah, just tired. Think I need to pack it up for the night."

"Okay," he spoke, gently, but looked at you heavily with those blue eyes, like he knew, "-have a goodnight, darlin'."

You softened, smiling wide and trailing back to your house, "Goodnight, loverboy!"

He laughed, big and loud and you heard it all the way to your door, maybe even after replaying it in your head. You felt a sparkle when... when you made him laugh. A twinkle in your chest.

You stilled.

Not now, you hummed to yourself, trying to flush out the feeling, no more, no more.

"He'll leave you," something in your mind said -quiet and creeping, "-they leave."

You went inside and closed your eyes. You needed a break.

[monst3rh1gh]

Facts about Elissabat/The frights camera action movie

(I think that’s what it’s called)

SOME PICS OF ELISSABAT IN THE MOVIE/HER DOLLS

In this movie a vampire(Stoker/Elissabats uncle) came to Monster high trying to find the vampire queen,When he puts the crown on draculaura it glowed deeming her the vampire queen later in the movie it comes out that it was a big hoax and the true vampire queen was Elissa bat a famous actress in the monster high world.

-This is the first and only?Movie you see honey swamp/Elissabat I believe

-Deuce’s cousin is shown as well

-Elissabat is a year older then draculaura I think meaning she is 1,601

-Elissabat and Draculaura used to be childhood friends

-Elissabat also lived in transylvania?

-She also goes by Veronica Von Vamp

-Elissabat fled Transylvania because of her uncles evil intentions