#suburban sociopath

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cabin in the woods (yan!slasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!slasher!Horangi) part 2

You listen to the story about those woods. Turns out, real life is way, way nastier than any of those stories. Don't lose your head.

TW for the chapter: Blood, gore, dead bodies, slut shaming(usage of outdated horror tropes), knife play, blood play, mentions of STDs

— Do you know what animal is this? 

The body of a small creature – rodent, probably, you don’t think there could be any other animals around – was lying on the road near the place you decided to stay for the night. The “Coolest fucking thing in the world that is also just a few hours from here” was still a few hours from here because it was fucking dark and you already left your car on the sidewalk, hoping no one would steal it because honestly, why would anyone need this pile of burning crap. 

— According to the “Basic Bestiary of Austrian Animals” it might be an extremely rare Austrian Marmont.

You fucking hated Max. Mostly because his form of being different was “being an intelligent asshole” and also because he would never forget to rub the fact you were behind him in the grades into your face. 

— Waaaaaaait, a mamont? But it’s small! You have to give Karen – blonde, tan, tall, straight C everywhere except for her chest (then it would be D everywhere) – credit. As adorably silly as she was, she was still the only person you could have a meaningful conversation with. Except for the times when she was fucking your boyfriends. Or when she forgot that you don’t have a boyfriend so he doesn’t need to fuck random people just to spite you.

— Perhaps, if we are extremely lucky, a European edible dormouse, also known as…

— Fuuuuuck, people eat this thing? Yuck! Austria is like, literally the worst country EVER!

You feel like every second of this conversation, even though you are just listening to it, is going to take 10 years from your life span. You never knew why the two got together – maybe because Max loved fucking someone dumber than he is, and Gretchen loved placing the responsibility for her actions on her beloved sociopathic boyfriend. 

You wanted to say that this was literally a fucking squirrel, but you know better. Not like anyone is going to listen anyway. 

You get to the supposed location a few hours – already deep in the night, everything that you hate about forests – unkept environment, horrible living conditions, mosquitos, and occasionally wild animals are making you squirm each time your butt switches the place and you involuntarily sit on the cold, damp ground. You lick your lips, trying to adjust in the position in front of the fire. Fire that you probably shouldn’t be making in the middle of the private territory, but Chad said the place belongs to some weird hillbillies who wouldn’t care about a bunch of college grads having fun. 

You just finished the last of your coke – mixed with cheap whiskey and rum you got back at home, you feel just buzzy and fuzzy and relaxed enough to at least try to engage with people around you. Just didn’t want to make Jenny embarrassed – she was the one to vouch for you, even though you didn’t want to go camping with them. 

— I heard there is something happening in these woods. 

Everyone around you groans and you comply, groaning too. Chad has the worst storytelling voice and even Marty – the resident stoner of the group – is visibly unhappy about having to listen to his dumb jokes. Brace yourself for at least twenty minutes of dumb story with a cheap attempt to scare you. 

— You talk like those locals. What can be here except for drunkards? 

— Very fucking funny, Marty, I hope you laugh at people’s death too. 

Everyone groans again. 

— Shut up and let me finish! So, there is something hiding in those woods…legends…

— What legends? This place was built like 20 years ago. 

— Shut the fuck up, Max! It’s the legends before the town even was built. In those very forests…

— Forests? I thought it was like, just a suburban area. 

— It’s wild Austrian woods, why I would put you to adventure in the fucking suburbs? 

— You’re a suburb baby. 

— Shut it! God, I hate you guys. Alright, so…these woods are populated with…creatures. 

— Ooooh, like the mammoth we saw! 

— Karen, seriously, what the fuck? These woods are filled with motherfucking human-eating killers, not just some animals! 

— Then why do you say “creatures”? — Because it makes for a good fucking story! God, everyone, this is why none of you are studying creative writing! 

— Only your parents have money to pay for it. 

— This is why you all are fucking losers. Alright…god, I hate you. People went missing in these woods. Mostly tourists, never the local population – this is why police don’t care about it. Bodies were found, half-eaten, rotting under that very tree! 

— Which tree? There are like 10 of them just here. 

— More like 100. 

— Under every fucking tree! — That’s a lot of bodies. 

Chad groans, visibly aggressive. You just tilt your head to the side, only talking to him once before taking the last sip of your Coke and standing from your place. You wanted to take a chance to see those woods before you’d be going even deeper the next night – Chad was planning quite an adventure in the wilderness, to your dismay, and you wanted to have a chance to see the cool part of nature before you would grow tired of it. 

To your surprise, Karen was nowhere to be seen. Knowing the girl, she is far too innocent and dumb to be here – probably ran away to not listen to scary stories or got lost while trying to find a good place to pee. You sigh, feeling that it is your responsibility to pick her up – she is Marty’s girlfriend, but he is too stoned out to notice her disappearance yet. 

You stumble on your foot – alcohol makes you dizzy, makes you relaxed and smiley. You don’t even care that no one came to ask what the fuck you are doing – as far as you aware, they all can go and fuck themselves while you have a lot more fun things to do. Like searching for a drunk girl in the forest in the middle of the night…yeah, you really should work on your definition of fun. 

You already a good few minutes into the forest. Nothing but trees, not even a squirrel or a wolf pocking around to feast on yummy bodies. Not like you wanted to see a wolf, of course, but meeting with the wild life could be fun. You’d like to see a bear, for example. 

(And you will – just a bit later) 

— Karen? Karen, are you alright? You decide to scream for her once you are far enough from your friends that they won’t question why you are so concerned for her. Poor girl was obviously scared and you didn’t want to embarrass her even further, so you stroll through the woods, an empty bottle of coke in your hand – not sure why you didn’t threw it away. Littering isn’t nice, after all. 

— Karen? You’re scaring everyone, come out! 

You scream some more – she is probably lost, deep enough that she can’t even hear you. You try not to panic, try to be the reasonable friend – it’s usually Jenny’s task but here you are, trying to be the cool one of your friend group. You yell for Karen some more, listening closely to every little sound that could be easily taken as her whimper or cry for help. 

Nothing. 

Just how far can a scared drunk girl go? Probably not further away than you – you’re already starting to get tired and you knew that Sidhey got far drunker than you are. Which means she could lay here, somewhere, passed from the exhaustion, freezing, with forest animals feasting on her…no, no, you can’t think like that. She is fine, she has to be, or you are going to get into so much trouble with the police and her parents. You never told any of your families about the trip, so you wouldn’t want to get in trouble what ould require their assistance. 

You take a step into deeper part of the forest – and you think you saw a glimpse of…something. Metal, probably, might be her phone or that atrociour hair dye she is using to stop everyone from calling her a mouse. You also think you could hear a sound of someone breathing – heavily, gruffly, definitely a male, but you don’t really know how. You squint, trying to see through the trees. 

You see Karen. 

— Karen? God, you scared everyone…well, me. Where the fuck have you been? 

You smile and wave at her, your drunken state isn’t allowing you to see that, for some weird reason, she isn’t waving back. Or moving, so to speak. She stared at you with that terrified expression of hers and you tilt your head to the side, not udneratanding why is she like that. Something happened between her and others? 

You take another step back and Karen falls. 

Well…her head falls, anyway. 

There are a lot of feelings right now. Panic, panic, panic, a little bit of panic and, oh, who could have guessed, another riel of panic which makes you freak the fuck out and sprint – towards her. Maybe she will be alive if you could put her head back on her neck really-really fast? 

— Is it too late to convince you this is all a dream? 

The voice. 

You don’t recognize it – it’s distorted and quiet under the mask and you don’t know anyone int his fucking place anyways. The voice is weirdly happy, weirdly laughing and you want to vomit from how easy-going it sounds. Like the corpse of your beheaded friend is nothing, like it’s a fun pun, like…

You laungh forward, trying to, maybe, get revenge on your not-really-a-friend. Guy lets go of Karen’s body, allowing it to fall down, her head rolling to the nearest creek and tumbling into the water like a sports ball. You can’t even sob – the situation feels too unreal, too shocking, you are still very much drunk and when the guy simply wraps his hands around your waist, not allowing you to move even an inch, you fall limp in his hold. 

You sob. 

His hand goes to grasp your face in a tight embrace, making you gag from the smell of blood splattered all across his hand. You hear chuckle. 

— Didn’t want you to see that first. Wanted to play hero, yes? 

You sob, you tremble, you can barely master a few words out of your mouth. You want to scream, but it’s like all the air just decided to disappear from your lungs. So, you cry instead. How brave of you, Karen would be so proud of her friend not even trying to avenge her death. 

— F…fuck…you. 

You master with all you strength. Guy is laughing again – his other hand goes to squeeze your waist even more, pushing you against a tree. He wears a full mask with some red drawings on it – a satanic cult, really? You thought about serial killer, maybe, but definetly not about crazy cult maniacs running around. The more you know. 

— Oh, kitten, I’d love to fuck myself. But you’re here for this, no? 

He called you kitten – you squirm in his grasp, not wanting to give him the easy way to kill you. Something pokes you to the side – it’s a knife. Large, sharp, military-issued, you saw it in movie and action TV shows – and now the bloody razor almost grazing over your skin, through the thing fabric of your open jacter and a simple T-shirt. 

— Wh…who are you? 

Stpuid question, really. 

— Why does everyone wants to ask who we are all the time? Would you die happier knowing my name? Would it help you escape knowing how many beauty marks I have?

It would certainly help the police if you were to survive the encounter. Even though you are certainly going to die right next to Karen over there. 

He pushes a knife towards your side, the blade cutting through fabric easily, You brace yourself for being gutted alive. 

— I don’t like stupid questions. Ask something wrong and I will see if you are as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside. 

In a normal situation, you would punch him for such a corny joke. But you’re too drunk for this, but you’re too exhausted for this, but you just want to curl away in some nice place and fucking die, but not because he was the one to kill you. You certainly do not want to give him the satisfaction of being the one for you. 

So, you feel your cheeks heating up with the faintest of blushes. 

— What are you going to do with me?

He pushes the knife deeper, sharp edge cutting the thin line into your side. You sob immediately, tears filling your eyes as you almost feel blood – not a lot of it, just a tiny sharp streak – fill your shirt. You want to vomit, hate pain, and everything that is related to it. Thinking that the knife is dirty already and he would probably infect you with whatever one of the 13 STDs Karen has if he were to proceed. He stops right before the blade can penetrate your skin. 

— I’m a serial killer. What do you think I will do with you? 

You shake your head, trying to search for the question that won’t make him plunge a knife into your body. 

— W…what is your favorite color? 

Good job. Amazing job. Let’s hope you don’t like your liver all that much because he is definitely going to cut it out and eat it. 

— Red. I like you. 

Suddenly, you are being pushed to your knees. Suddenly, he is standing right in front of you – he is tall, of course, bulky and big, and he seems even bigger from this angle. Your face is pressed against his crotch and you can feel the dread slowly filling up your weins. Is he going to…

He presses a knife against your lips – you part it obediently, nervously, you feel your face twitching with disgust as your mouth immediately fills with the metallic taste of Karen’s blood. You really need to vomit right fucking now, but he is petting your head with his other hand like someone would do to a dog or a cat, and you sob. Too scared to do anything and here you thought you would finally stop letting people walk all over you. You thought it would start a journey of self-actualization and finding your own priorities, but…

He presses the knife a bit deeper. 

— Someone here has manners. Your friend here was trying to fuck me until she saw a knife. 

Sounds like Karen. You still remember her fucked-out face when she happily stumbled out of your room, with your boyfriend that you thought was never into cheerleaders. She had her urges and it was normal until she started to get off with those urges on everyone who liked you, or who you liked – and with such an innocent smile that no one was ever mad at her. 

He presses the knife against your upper jaw, laying it flat on your tongue – you sob, trying not to shake your head too much as he wipes away your tears and pushes your throat even deeper on the blade. You don’t know how it still hasn’t penetrated you yet. 

— Squealed like a fucking pig, not even fun anymore. I assume she was the whore of your group? 

You shook your shoulders, not wanting to give him any answers. He laughs, pressing the blade down and slightly turning it to the side. You feel the string of saliva running from your open mouth – he wipes it with his finger, leaving blood stains on your face. 

— Clean the knife for me, okay? I might leave you live if you would be good for us. You launch onto the opportunity to save your life so quickly, that you don’t even register the word “us” slipping from his tongue. 

You suck the knife obediently, carefully holding your tongue from the sharp edge so you won’t cut yourself, trying so desperately not to hurt yourself on the blade, that it’s almost adorable, He looks at you, the way you even fucking hollow your cheeks to clean it more efficiently, like you were sucking a cock and, with every passing second, he doesn’t really feel like killing you anymore. 

He feels like keeping you bound to him – maybe cutting your ankles so you would never run away from them, maybe tying you up to the body of your friend and holstering you both to the house, making you watch him gut Karen so you’d know not to run away from them. 

He pets your head like you were a cat – and, god, he always adored cats. 

You hear the noises from the side – your gaze darts to the nearest bushes as the guy waves his hand to someone gigantic sitting down at your side. Two pair of hands are now petting your head like you were a fucking animal – and you’re still sucking on his knife, feeling the pressure on your lips. You want to die, but there is no choice but to keep living. 

— Scheisse, what do you have here? 

A hand goes to cup your face and turns you to the side, to meet the giant, bulky figure fully wrapped in camo gear. His face is concealed with some sort of hood, which makes you shake even more. They both look like soldiers – or soldier-cultist-butchers from a horror movie. But, then again, you are in the fucking horror movie, since the big guy has Karen’s head in his hand, holding her by the hair. You sob even more. 

— Stumbled across me as I was gutting the slut. 

— Is she a smart one then? 

The guy with the knife laughs, yanking the blade from your mouth. You want to close it immediately, but the second guy pushes his finger between your lips, keeping them apart – and you are too scared to even try to bite him. Instead, you sit here, obediently, feeling the alcohol in your system working its magic. Again. Making you drowsy and relaxed, panic drained so much energy from your body, that you genuinely feel horrible. 

— No, wouldn’t say so. Obedient, more like. 

— Not a cool one either. Are you a virgin, Schatz? 

You want to lie, just so you won’t feel so fucking embarrassed because of it – but something in the brutality of what they did to Karen made you reconsider. You just shake your shoulders, not wanting to give a definitive answer. 

— Cute. Been some time since we saw a cute one like this. 

Your sobbing intensifies and the big guy suddenly yanks you on your feet. You immediately feel ill, pressing your head against the tree and emptying your insides – mostly because of the panic and partly because of the amount of alcohol you drank. Their touches are surprisingly soft on your skin, gently removing any stray hairs from your face and holding a firm hand on your back, rubbing the blood and grim into your jacket. 

You stand like this for a few minutes, choking on your own tears, vomit, and blood. They coo at you, gentle hands on your body guiding you towards them just so the second guy – a smaller one, relatively of course – could get a hand in your hair and yank it back. Hard. 

— Calm the fuck down. 

— You’re scaring her, Tigeren. 

— Aren’t we here for this? 

— Thought you liked this one. 

— I do. But…

— But? 

— Not fun to take her just now. She can help stir her friends a little. Make them run a little. 

They fucking killed Karen and they want to…let you go? They made you clean their knives, stand on your knees in front of them, and then gently helped you empty your insides – just to let you go when you could run into the nearest policeman and destroy their whole little game? Are they dumb or overly confident? 

— She could run. I would rather keep her with us. 

— They won’t get out of these forests without phones. And their car is already…shit. Spoilers. 

— Alright. But I would be the first to take her next time. 

— She won’t be any good after you, Ko. 

— Our Kleine Hase has more than one hole, ja? 

This is it. 

You take the opportunity – they are distracted by their little conversation, so you duck under the hand of the bigger man and run in the close direction to where the group is sitting. You are covered in blood, and dirt, you shake like crazy and you can barely even run straight without getting right into the various trees, but you don’t care. You aren’t strong enough to sit here and listen to their conversation – not when the self-preservation makes you forget about Karen. Not when that feeling in your chest can only be described as “She got what she asked for” – because she was a bitch, but not nearly enough to deserve being beheaded by two psychos. 

They laugh as they watch you run. Horangi smiles, nudging Konig to the side – you’re not a fighter, but still interesting enough. Adorable and obedient, just vile enough to suck on the same knife that killed your friend – interesting mix, to say the least. Hongjin always wanted a cat, but never got the time on the various deployments – and you behave like a perfect mix of a kitten and bunny. 

Konig tilts his head to the side, watching you, this pathetic little thing, run like the devil was after you. He was, of course. and he came in double, but it was still funny, how a city girl like you seriously thought you would be able to get away if they weren’t allowing you to. You’re cute, for a tourist, and he wants to hunt you some more – perfect foreplay before destroying you with either his cock or his knife. 

One down – and both of them couldn’t wait to finally get to you. 

[raven0usravi0lii]

songs i really want to animate jeff the killer to but have no motivation to:

inexplicable - the correspondents

bullet with butterfly wings - the smashing pumpkins

blood and bones - the blake robinson synthetic orchestra

woof woof - arthur

september sun - type o negative

suburban sociopath - afourteen, teenage disaster

jenny was a friend of mine - the killers

save yourself, i'll hold them back - my chemical romance

ok bai

[rickytickychow]

You went into the Flip Side wanting to be impressed and have your projections of the characters fulfilled I went into the Flip Side ready to be shocked and appalled and laugh about it we are not the same

The game series is about a racist suburban white girl w ZERO sense of accountability and her sociopath friend surrounded by the worst people imaginable, and being surrounded by the worst people imaginable is the ONLY thing that makes them sympathetic other than the fact that they're written like rounded, complex people. (worst imaginable including/especially Jeffery no one defends the fuckin adult men from what I've seen thank god but Jeffery likers seriously piss me off)

Writing them like complex rounded people DOES make the fucked up shit feel "too real," I get it. Nothing wrong w rooting for Jecka, but if you actually thought anything would turn out well for her you SEVERELY misunderstood the point of this genre. You don’t have to think it was funny but personally I found it to be pretty damn real in a satirical sense.

You don't have to like Jecka's dad, but those people exist. You don't have to like Nicole's choices, but people like her lean toward money security and power, fair or not. You don't have to like the trafficking ending, but yes corporations are fucked up and evil like that. You don't have to like the feet route (it was too long imo but Jeffery dying made it almost worth it), but those weirdos exist and tbh to make an easy 7k a month and still have free time I'd do it too. You guys severely underestimate how fucked society is because this shit is TAME compared to a lot of stuff out there.

Jecka shoulda had more wins, yeah. She and Nicole could've had silly adventures where they fuck up people who deserve it. But Jecka is not that kind of person. You didn't like the og Co09 at its core, you just liked Nicole and projected her to be better than the actual text shows her to be. Jecka is more Relatable to the average person than Nicole, so to balance it out they're gonna be more out-there with the shit that happens to her. Idk what you guys were expecting tbh. If you want human characters and not satirical premises pushed to extremes, go read ao3 cuz I feel like y'all read more of that than the actual og games.

[thepastisapebbleinmyshoe]

Blue lights chased her down, at 3 o'clock across town, into a gas station parking lot, unable to hide the crisp scent, of barley and oats on her breath.

The pistols and triple ace's delicately inked onto each hip, still weren't enticing enough, to escape her DUI conviction.

I was awakened before dawn, notified of the arrest, but sadly, she was released to another party, at the sanitorium of Cedar Lake.

Her name appeared in the press, and the story became a legend, repeated by roman catholic bar flies, and the sociopath cleverly disguised, as a modest suburban housewife.

Pistols & Aces

[doktordismemberment]

Brain Puke: Vaping Bile

How fucked is the world we live in where 1 in 5 Americans think Taylor Swift is a deep state operative?

The desperate need for a comic book narrative. Good guys. Bad guys. Cloak and dagger intrigue. Hack plot devices. Stan Lee with a brain injury and stunted emotional development.

The wholehearted belief that if anyone has anything you don't it's because it was handed to them, and the reason you don't isn't because you're a mediocre idiot from a nowhere town who has worked at fucking Taco Bell since you dropped out of high school it's because there's some grand fuck-over orchestrated by some shadowy "them" and pointed directly at you.

You're a hard worker.

A good person.

You deserve what everyone else has.

They deserve to live in misery.

Fuck 'em.

Take another hit off the vape pen and fall asleep on the couch.

Got work early.

AM radio fascism.

Drive time outrage.

Dead end sociopathic malaise.

Sunday morning self-insert savior fanfic.

Layer upon layer of bullshit suburban delusion to keep the big bright scary world at bay.

But given the chance to do anything to break the cycle or improve yourself it's always the same excuses: "Nah, I'm good." or "I can't move away, I gotta stay close to my family."

What if it doesn't work?

What if I don't succeed?

I really like the fries at that one place and I'd sure hate to live more than five miles away from that.

I'm doing fine, best I've ever been.

So you seethe through another day of nothing and blame everyone but yourself.

And when you're put on the spot you can't even explain yourself...The incoherence comes pouring out like a clogged toilet.

Michelle Obama's arms.

Chemtrail mind control.

Weather modification.

Transvestigation and looksmaxing.

Winners of the genetic lottery.

Turning the frogs gay.

The great reset.

You talk long enough and somehow it boils down to blacks, gays, and jews exist and that's why your life sucks.

It's got nothing to do with you and your shitty choices.

Your life has nothing to do with you.

You're dead leaves blowing in a winter wind.

A used condom floating down a filthy river.

An empty human outline.

None of this is your fault.

Not what you've done and not what you might do in the future.

Make any of it make sense.

[brokehorrorfan]

The Lost will be released on Blu-ray on December 12 via Ronin Flix. The 2006 horror-thriller is based on the 2001 novel by Jack Ketchem, itself inspired by the true story of serial killer Charles Schmid.

Chris Sivertson (All Cheerleaders Die) writes and directs. Marc Senter stars with Shay Astar, Alex Frost, Michael Bowen, Robin Sydney, and Ed Lauter. Filmmaker Lucky McKee (May, The Woman) produces.

The Lost has been newly remastered in 2K from a 4K scan of the original camera negative with lossless 5.1 DTS-HD Master Audio. Special features are listed below.

Special features:

Audio commentary by writer-director Chris Sivertson and producer Lucky McKee

Audio commentary by author Jack Ketchum, moderated by author Monica O'Rourke

Interviews with actors Marc Senter, Robin Sydney, and Shay Astar (new)

Jack and Jill featurette

Audition tapes

Outtakes

Storyboard sequence

19-year-old Ray Pye (Marc Senter) is a black-clad suburban sociopath who meets his match when a new girl with a taste for the dark side, Katherine Wallace (Robin Sydney), arrives in town. Together, they are a dangerous couple whose deadly games lead to a horrific and shocking climax.

Pre-order The Lost.

[schraubd]

Vulnerable Situations

I was driving home from work the other night, and on my dimly lit suburban street I passed not one but two people walking their dogs while wearing all black, rendering them nearly impossible to see in the darkness (one had put a glow ring around his dog, clearly demonstrating his priorities regarding whose survival he cared about most). I was furious as I passed them. How could they be so irresponsible? How could they put me in that situation?  And then once I reached home, I reflected on that emotion, because it struck me as a bit weird and in need of unpacking. Obviously, I was worried that I wouldn't see the pedestrian and would strike them with my car. Of course, if that happened, it'd be the pedestrian who'd actually be injured. I'm encased inside a one-ton steel tank. I'd be fine. But it'd be very traumatizing, and I'd feel terrible, and then there are the potential legal consequences -- those are all pretty scary, and it's that imagined prospect that really motivates my anger at the pedestrian. So to sum up: I'm mad at the pedestrian for putting me in a position where I might be emotionally traumatized and/or face legal liability for seriously hurting them. The thing is, when you put it that way, I sound like a sociopath. "Did you ever consider how you getting physically maimed on the hood of my car might effect me?" Who thinks like that? Apparently I do, at least instinctively. So ... is that a sociopathic emotion? Certainly, we might say the pedestrian should behave differently (say, wear brighter colors) out of a healthy sense of self-preservation. But is there some sort of implied duty to the driver as well? Is there a sense in which someone who is vulnerable has, at least in circumstances where it is feasible/relatively costless, an obligation to mitigate their own vulnerability? Or is that nuts? No broad moral here. Just a thought I was wrestling through. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/CeFRqTl

[cyarskaren52]

This lady murdered her own children, buried them in her boyfriend’s backyard, had her brother kill her ex-husband, attempted to kill her new husband ex wife and spent years getting away with it because she’s a blonde suburban white woman. and of course she had no remorse

Rot underneath the jail, sociopathic bitch.

[chestharrington]

I saw this take even here on tumblr, they went so far that Steve set up cameras in his bedroom for some kind off revenge porn thing bc they took the comment a guy said to Nancy (something like can't wait to see your movie) too literal. Like this comment was directly related to them spraying the message on the cinema thing. Plus why tf would Steve, who called Jonathan out for being a creep, be a creep himself. It doesn't make sense like there is no indication of him for A setting up cameras and B when they actually had sex and Nancy stopped for a second he asked if everything is okay and then Nancy initiated the next kiss to keep going.

I get not liking Steve, prefering Jonathan or whatever but please don't make up harmful things to "justify" your hate for a character. Fucking hate the Duffers for bringing back the love triangle because all of those weird ass takes come from Jonathan or Jancy stans.

Media literacy is so low.

The point I made to @demogordon about this is like— when they wrote season 1, they fully intended for Steve to die at the end. The average viewer would’ve seen his typical jock asshole behavior (some of which I find to be understandable, ie: breaking Jonathan’s camera) and even like “oh, yeah, he was a jerk. I guess him dying is understandable.” Apart from the study scene that they use to show it was SA, Steve’s season one crimes are use of the word queer along with insults to instigate a fight with Jonathan, breaking Jonathan’s camera, prioritizing self preservation over Barb’s disappearance, and aligning himself with Carol and Tommy, who slutshame and bully Nancy and others. Of these, I’d rank his allowance of Carol and Tommy’s behavior and what he said to Jonathan to be the worst offenses, both of which he holds himself accountable for by breaking off that friendship and going to the Byers’ house to personally apologize to Jonathan (also, he didn’t even know Nancy would be there). Hold onto the study scene bc I’ll come back to that.

Compare this to the characterization of 2 other jock-asshole characters who were slated to die— Billy and Jason. Billy Hargrove is a character who in the simplest of terms is a violent racist. They don’t shy away from this in season 2 (he attempts to hit Lucas, Dustin, and Mike with his car, he attempts to physically assault Lucas because he’s racist, he terrorizes Max, he’s a misogynist, he’s gross). We watch him die in season 3 (spared of continued violence and racism because he’s being puppeted by the mindflayer) and it’s understandable. This is a bad person, and bad people are going to die on this show.

Of the two, I find Jason’s motives easier to understand in the context of the story of s4, despite him still leaving a sour taste in my mouth. He creates a witch hunt for an innocent person and sics a group of primarily white grown men on two black children. He threatens Lucas with a gun and violently attacks him. Jason’s motives are born from grief, loss, and a desire to reassert his power and authority. When he dies (in a graphic, fucking brutal way) we pretty much get it. Good riddance to that guy.

Compare Steve’s actions in season 1 to either of those, and it feels weird that he was going to die in the end of the season. Billy and Jason’s actions border on psychotic and sociopathic, in Jason’s case, extremely unhinged. Steve Harrington’s actions reflect the actions of an insecure boy who has yet to grow up and out of the hole that has been dug for him. There is accountability and shame in his story that we did not see in Billy or Jason.

Onto the study scene. What’s important to understand before watching is the context of the scene itself. Nancy’s intentions are to place herself outside of the other girls steve has been with. She’s not a slut, she’s a suburban, all-American good girl. She is coy in her deflections leading up to that night. Insisting that the date is to study, wink wink nudge nudge, before smiling and leaving. Steve shows up at her house and they do study! But the undertones of the scene are leading up to the sneaky make out they planned earlier in the episode. Nancy says no, she needs to focus, Steve suggests they strip study. It’s a push and pull flirtation that ends in a mutually initiated kiss. When it goes further and Steve moves his hands to her shirt and she says no, he backs off and plays it off cool.

The duffers don’t shy away from portraying shitty jock assholes. We see it in Tommy, Jason, Billy, and the nameless men in Jason’s posse. If Steve was supposed to die and they’re painting steve as an unsympathetic asshole, why shy away from portraying SA if that was their intention? Stranger things has shown depictions of non-consensual voyeurism, domestic abuse, loss, homophobia, eating disorders, PTSD, and more I’m probably forgetting while I sit here typing this. If that scene was meant to portray SA, it would be overt, and we would collectively know and agree.

[vermillion-merlot]

Carnage AU duos’ coded songs cause I’m bored!!

Memento Mori Coded Songs:

~

•Beauty School (Deftones)

•Diamond Eyes (Deftones)

•A Match Into Water (Pierce The Veil)

•Francis Forever (Mitski)

•First Love / Late Spring (Mitski)

•A Little Death (The Neighbourhood)

•Softcore (The Neighbourhood)

•505 (Arctic Monkeys)

•Salvatore (Lana Del Rey)

•West Coast (Lana Del Rey)

Mascara Coded Songs:

~

•Risk (Deftones)

•Sextape (Deftones)

•Mascara (Deftones)

•Passenger (Deftones)

•I Don’t Care If You’re Contagious (Pierce The Veil)

•Emergency Contact (Pierce The Veil)

•Hell Above (Pierce The Veil)

•Props and Mayhem (Pierce The Veil)

•MASK (Teenage Disaster ft. BLCKK)

•Suburban Sociopath (Afourteen ft. Teenage Disaster)

•Daddy Issues (The Neighbourhood)

•I Bet On Losing Dogs (Mitski)

•A Pearl (Mitski)

•Bleed Magic (IDKHOW)

•Sugar Pills (IDKHOW)

•Razzmatazz (IDKHOW)

•MAD IQs (IDKHOW)

•Cigarettes Out The Window (TV Girl)

[wolvies-claws]

rules: shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people I was "tagged" by @unclewaynemunson :D! 1 . The Kids Aren't Alright - Fall Out Boy 2 . STFU - TEENAGE DISASTER 3 . SAD! - XXXTENTACION 4 . Haylo - TEENAGE DISASTER 5 . Killjoy - WHOKILLEDXIX 6 . Teenagers - My Chemical Romance 7 . Punk Tactics - Joey Valence & Brae 8 . Criminal Song - TEENAGE DISASTER 9 . Suburban Sociopath - Afourteen + TEENAGE DISASTER 10 . Sunkissed - khai dreams

nobody will be tagged because i dont like tagging people, consider this an open invitation! the td to everything else ratio is funny

[regretgirl]

Afourteen and Teenage Disaster 😍

[oceanlandworld]

man i almost never do this but girl interrupted is one of my favorite books ever so i have a right to complain. the movie making lisa into a Sexy Evil Sociopath Villain is the stupidest shallowest most woman-hating hollywoodification possible for this narrative and i fucking hate it

here's how lisa gets introduced in the goddamn book:

Lisa had run away again. We were sad, because she kept our spirits up. She was funny. Lisa! I can’t think of her without smiling, even now. The worst was that she was always caught and dragged back, dirty, with wild eyes that had seen freedom. She would curse her captors, and even the tough old-timers had to laugh at the names she made up. “Cheese-pussy!” And another favorite, “You schizophrenic bat!” Usually, they found her within a day. She couldn’t get far on foot, with no money. But this time she seemed to have lucked out. On the third day I heard someone in the nursing station saying “APB” into the phone: all points bulletin. Lisa wouldn’t be hard to identify. She rarely ate and she never slept, so she was thin and yellow, the way people get when they don’t eat, and she had huge bags under her eyes. She had long dark dull hair that she fastened with a silver clip. She had the longest fingers I’ve ever seen.

here is the final scene in the book in which lisa appears:

A few years after Georgina went west, I ran into Lisa in Harvard Square. She had a little toast-colored boy with her, about three years old. I hugged her. “Lisa,” I said, “I’m so happy to see you.” “This is my kid,” she said. “Isn’t it crazy that I have a kid?” She laughed. “Aaron, say hello.” He didn’t; he put his face behind her leg. She looked exactly the same: skinny, yellow, cheerful. “What have you been doing?” I asked. “The kid,” she said. “That’s all you can do.” “What about the father?” “Later for him. I got rid of him.” She put her hand on the boy’s head. “We don’t need him, do we?” “Where are you living?” I wanted to know everything about her. “You won’t believe this.” Lisa pulled out a Kool and lit up. “I’m living in Brookline. I’m a suburban matron in Brookline. I’ve got the kid, I take the kid to nursery school, I’ve got an apartment, I’ve got furniture. Fridays we go to temple.” “Temple!” This amazed me. “Why?” “I want—” Lisa faltered. I’d never before seen her at a loss for words. “I want us to be a real family, with furniture, and all that. I want him to have a real life. And temple helps. I don’t know why, but it helps.” I stared at Lisa, trying to imagine her in temple with her dark-skinned son. I noticed she was wearing some jewelry—a ring with two sapphires, a gold chain around her neck. “What’s with the jewelry?” I asked. “Presents from Grandma, right?” She addressed this to the kid. “Everything changes when you have children,” she told me. I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d decided not to have any. And it didn’t look like my marriage was going to last, either. We were standing in the middle of Harvard Square in front of the subway entrance. Suddenly, Lisa leaned close to me and said, “Wanna see something fantastic?” Her voice had the old quiver of mischief in it. I nodded. She pulled up her shirt, a T-shirt advertising a bagel shop in Brookline, and grabbed hold of the flesh of her abdomen. Then she pulled. Her skin was like an accordion; it kept expanding, more and more, until she was holding the flap of skin a foot away from her body. She let go and it subsided, somewhat wrinkled at first but then settling back on her bones, looking perfectly normal. “Wow!” I said. “Kids,” said Lisa. “That’s what happens.” She laughed. “Say good-bye, Aaron.” “Bye,” he said, surprising me. They were going back to Brookline on the subway. At the top of the stairs Lisa turned around toward me again. “You ever think of those days in there, in that place?” she asked. “Yes,” I answered. “I do think of them.” “Me too.” She shook her head. “Oh, well,” she said rather jauntily. Then the two of them went down the stairs, underground.

literally cannot stand girl interrupted 1999 lmfao

“She thinks she’s hot shit because she’s a sociopath.”

Girl Interrupted 1999

[cybermoonmoon]

I was on a chat where the problem of how to get by if you woke up as one of the few people left on the planet. Others vanished. Gone. Of the current near 8 billion. Earth now has 700 thousand folks scattered over the globe. Human population during the Ice Age.

"Getting it Right"

First things first. Where do I get food fresh water for the rest of my life. How long will antibiotics be fresh? What are natural substitutes? Zombies and biker gangs are features of civilization. Which is now gone as are most violent sociopaths. These are unlikely to show up and ruin your day.

Water systems will run till the power fails. If you're in a region with hydroelectric you're good for a few months to a year. Other places hours if lucky days weeks. One must learn to think long term. 'Very long term'. Your life depends on it. This is why so-called primitive folks do this. Careful planning if one wants to live.

Besides the needs of the body. Health of the soul is critical. You need reasons to go on. Mourning. You've not only lost loved ones but your whole world. Some may not cope and will perish. Others will find a way. My life experience has shown me that hope can be found in even the worst of circumstances. Purpose partly found primal practicalities will assert themselves.

Wildlife came through the event. So you'll need to learn to hunt fish dry smoke salt and save what you caught. As your ancestors and Native peoples did. Predators will become a problem.

Firearms. Pistols a long rife. Nothing stupid fancy. Simplest sturdiest you can get with repairing spares cleaning oiling items. Ammo. Careful what kind. Heavy weight one shot one kill. Don't want a pissed off wounded Mountain Lion coming at you. You will need all this to stay alive. City slicker no experience? Read the damned books and practice! You won't disturb the neighbors.

If a rural person you're ahead of the game. You know most of this. If like me. Books! Everything you need to know is in them...libraries will save your life. If not a reader or never had respect for knowing...you are dead. Period. Canned or dried food are only good for few years. No one is coming to help or protect you. You'll be a farmer/hunter. You'll learn these skills or die. Nature has no sense of humor. Just survival.

Life in the city will be too dangerous in time. Infrastructure prey to storms earthquakes rot. Poisoned residual water bad food encroaching predators. Study plan leave. On foot bike or car leave while the roads and bridges are still stable. I live in Brooklyn. I'd get as far away from that toxic waste dump as I could.

Take care where you decide to settle. Your goal is a rural sturdy cabin with a well. Find several as backups with wells in walking distance of each other. That and each with good drainage healthy soil, you'll learn how to spot these. Also a defensive field of fire...just in case.

You'll learn that a flood plain is called that for a reason. Be near but not at a stream. Never a river these floods. Fish and game will be a major calorie source. You'll mix your diet as the crops ripen. Mixed protein intake matters.

Tools seeds a root cellar dug all the preindustrial basics. If educated, and paid attention you'll know what books to look for. Libraires aren't called the 'fortresses of civilization' for nothing.

Who lives? I think a very young urban/suburban person of the 21ost century may not make it past a year. They wouldn't even know what questions to ask. They'll die of injuries infections tainted food water poisoning or an animal attack.

I'd say the best survivor would be rural quick witted educated by life strong. Mid-20's through 40's. Before or after that it gets seriously dicey. Not impossible...but.

Food water shelter. Commercial seeds will start to go bad within six to ten years. Even the newer stuff. This is why a farm plot will be your savior. You'll need to harvest not just the crops, but their seeds, and have a surplus of two years of planting seeds and dried veggies fruit. Perhaps when things stabilize keep bees. Honey wine. Planning.

The homestead will be hard work but can be done. Native Peoples and your ancestors did so with far less. Some like you...alone. Prepare for storms or other natural disasters that could wipe you out. You have backups that might survive but expect the the worst. Nature is life and death. But nature gave you that brain that purified water and imagined then found Black Holes.

Life and times. My nearest neighbors might be in da Mid-West or Canada. So except for cats, and hunting dogs it's just 'me'.

Art. Figure how to play da fiddle. Folks did this in colonial days so can you. Make up songs dance write. You can critique your own stuff now. Bleep the New York Review of Books. This will keep you emotionally healthy and center your sanity.

Go to nearby towns for new tools supplies while they're still good. I'd get sturdy off road bikes with tools and spares. None of that electric stuff. Find a classic Land Rover keep it in tune. These and similar not too uncommon in rural areas. Good four-wheel drive proven all terrain ride. Enough spares could last years.

Haul bikes and supplies with it. Major even dangerous expedition but worth the risk for long term value. No SUVs. These gas guzzling gaudy toys packed with electronics won't survive. Neither will you if you get one. After the gasoline no longer clicks. This happens. Rovers' can use other mixtures...so I've read. Again reading.

Land basics. One has to know where you are how to get back if you broke down. This is why you have bikes on your Rover. Maps. Local stock and make 'your own'. Things will change as time go on. Roads no longer passable...fallen trees wash outs. Bridges unstable marshy land expanding. Remember there is no one to save you. How long one lives will be the same as our ancestors...dumb luck, and your hard work.

Another possible reason to go on besides working the land hunting writing bad novels talking to the cats would be human company. 12 years into this farming life perhaps a change. A hunter gatherer group slowly traveling east all these years might stumble on you. Unlike in the violent end-times films. This would be a pleasant encounter. Neither you nor they are competing for resources with a whole planet to share.

You'll meet trade laugh exchange tales of survival fuck dance perform your bad poetry. Hang out for some days, and they'll move on. Though now they know you're there and will come back every few years. In time others might show up. Same thing laugh perform trade drink honey home brew, and they move on.

One day some of these bands come back with your daughters, and sons. I can see an annual solstice meeting of clans developing as your children, and grandchildren return to your homestead for the festival.

If this were me, I'd be taking my extended families around the farm in my aged Land Rover. The little ones amazed having never seen a car actually running. I'd play Little Richard and da Beatles for them on my iPhone. Powered by them solar panels I scrounged up. So humanity at least in the first post event generations lives in peace. In the future villages city states.

Though this time we might get it right.

[sinfulspeakeasy]

doing that thing where you shuffle some songs and then ping all your mutuals to see which one they like

@spinospiritninja @virginia-the-opossum @sodalite-lite @cruelandunusualeas

[doriandistortion]

Like tha playlist 😝