#they stab it with their steely knives

[starryoak]

I think we need to just accept that sometimes artists are wrong about their works and actually they’re not what they say they’re about. Sometimes the artists put symbolism in their stories they don’t intend and it’s secretly just about something else.

This is specifically about Hotel California, which, despite the insistence by The Eagles that it isn’t actually a song about the supernatural and is instead about drugs or the music industry or whatever, is clearly about Purgatory. It just literally makes significantly more sense as a story when taken with that interpretation in mind. Hell, it’s barely a story without it! Interpreting the Hotel as Purgatory or Hell is the only logical way to take the story with the metaphors and events that are laid out in the song. 

I’m sorry, I’ll double down on this until the day I die.

[emberwritesinsight]

Has anybody made an Utena AMV to Hotel California yet

Like

And she said, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device" And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast

Come on do I have to do it? That'll take energy I don't have :( also I have made 1 AMV in my entire life

[arealphrooblem]

Sisyphus

The realization crystalizes in a second, like the heat lightning that flashes in the air that night, as the Hero holds the Villain over the parapet of the roof. They've both been here before: triumph and steely-eyed surrender.

Sometimes the roles get reversed, and its Hero dangling from the roof top, air struggling through the Villain's tight grip on their throat.

Sometimes it's not a roof, it's a boot pressed on the shoulder blades, or a set of iron bars between them. And it doesn't matter how this fight ends, they will both be here again, in some form or another.

So instead of drop kicking the Villain off the roof and letting them scramble to get their jet pack started, Hero sets them gently back onto the concrete, steadies them with a hand on the shoulder as Villain gets their balance.

"Can we call it a night?" the Hero asks.

The Villain stares for a long moment, as if Hero had unzipped their human suit and revealed themselves as a little green alien.

In the next breath they wrap their long fingers around the Hero's neck and shove them back towards the door to the rooftop. The Hero's head slams painfully against the steel. One of the Villains many knives replaces their hand at the Hero's throat.

The Hero offers no resistance, limp as a rag doll.

"How stupid do you think I am?" Villain hisses, their face in shadow.

"It's a well documented fact that you're an engineering genius so . . . not stupid at all," the Hero wheezes.

"And yet you expect me to believe you're surrendering at the height of your victory."

Their face is shrouded in shadow, so Hero can't tell their facial expression, but the Villain sounds deeply offended. Hero struggles to put into words the clarity that had hit them so hard a minute before.

"Aren't you tired?" they finally say.

" . . .What?"

It bubbles up then, and Hero feels like a soda can that someone shook up.

"We're both out here, week after week, kicking each other's ass in this one massive continuous stalemate. And for what? Neither of us get anywhere. You have an evil plan and I stop it, repeat ad nausuem. Meanwhile the world keeps going down the toilet and nothing ever changes. We're like fucking Sisyphus out here. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Aren't you?"

A long, excruciating moment of silence follows this. Hero waits for cuffs or a stabbing, a boot to the shoulders, the normal end to their fights. Maybe it is juts them, maybe the Villain loves these fights and could go on forever.

Maybe Hero needs to quietly disappear to a beach somewhere and never look back.

But to Hero's surprise, the knife falls away from their throat. Then Villain twists and leans against wall beside Hero, shoulders almost touching. They sigh, long and deep.

"Yes," they say softly. "I am tired."

They stand there like that for a little while, the silence turning from tense to comforting. Eventually Hero's stomach growls and they remember they had skipped dinner because of Villain. They push themselves off the door before turning around and opening it. The stairs loomed beneath them, bathed in dim, yellow light.

"Do you like pizza? I want pizza. There's a really good place still open on the corner of 5th."

They take a few steps down the stairs but hear nothing behind them. Looking over their shoulder, the see the Villain hovering at the doorway, their face finally illuminated and uncertain.

"This is a trap," they say flatly. "I won't make it down those stairs before you cuff me or tranq me."

Hero rolls their eyes before "Look, I'm getting pizza. You can either follow me and get free food, you can eat in your lab, sad and alone. It's up to you."

They turn their back to the Villain, probably for the first time, knowing how easily it would be to get shoved down and break their neck. After a few more steps they hear more echoing after them.

Hero smiles and waits for Villain to catch up.

[crowfeatherquill]

"Results" and "Consequences" are Often Considered Synonymous

Gale and Wyll are whispering about him. They assume he can’t hear them -- they have no way to know how imperative it was for him to train his ears to separate voices from other sounds. The crackling of the fire does not hide their discussion from him as well as it might do from someone who hadn’t been forged into a tool rather than raised.

“...to death,” Wyll is saying, and though the glare hurts his eyes, Tathlyn can still see the thunderous scowl on his face when he glances without turning his head.

“We don’t know that,” Gale responds, but he doesn’t look particularly convinced of his own stance, “It’s not like we wandered in after him to check.”

Tathlyn swallows a sigh rather than let on that he’s listening, and does his best to drown them out. He should have expected this. It was only a matter of time, really, before the wizard ran out of academic curiosity and the people’s hero ran out of patience, and the three of them became what they were always destined to turn into: two humans sitting across the fire from a Drow, refusing to take their eyes off him lest he stab them in the backs as soon as they were turned.

He busies himself with portioning out the night’s supplies, and despite his best efforts to stop listening, he cannot help but to overhear bits and pieces, when either or both of them let their passion take them and raise their voices high enough that even they glance his way, finally concerned that he might have noticed them.

“...can’t just sit and do nothing,” says Wyll.

“...ask, at least, before…” says Gale.

“...can’t believe he managed--” says Wyll, before Gale cuts him off, and later, “--trusted him.”

Much as he would prefer not to be privy to any of this, Tathlyn finds himself grateful for his sharp ears when the sound changes from ill-restrained bickering to footsteps. Two pairs, approaching at speed.

He catches the tail end of Gale saying something like “--not the time for--” before he feels Wyll’s hand -- still gauntleted -- fall heavy on his shoulder and spin him around to face them. He forces past the way his muscles leap readily to a violent response, narrowly avoiding splaying Wyll out in the dirt for his efforts, and turns as easily as he is able without allowing himself to stagger.

“Yes?”

The word comes sharp and dripping venom. Tathlyn finds he doesn’t mind the way it tastes. He shouldn’t let his anger get the better of him -- that’s not going to help this -- but he desperately wants to.

“You made yourself out to be a savior,” Wyll snarls, “Said you’d help the refugees clear the roads so they can travel safely to Baldur’s Gate. Even came all this way to find Halsin, I had assumed because you agree that Kagha’s gone too far. For a while, there, I thought it was too good to be true, but you really had me going up until the part where you jumped at the opportunity to torture an innocent--”

Gale puts an arm out, forcing a few inches back into the rapidly closing distance between Wyll and Tathlyn.

“I think what he means to ask is--”

“What I want to know is what comes next, underelf? The next time you feel the urge rise, what will you do if there’s no poor defenseless sods around to take it out on?”

Tathlyn’s gaze goes steely -- he hopes it’s just enough to make Wyll shut up, but at this point he doesn’t really figure his standing can get much worse, so he doesn’t put much effort into precision.

“You’d think after Karlach you’d have learned better than to make assumptions, Wyll.” His tone is frigid -- a stark contrast to the heat practically radiating from Wyll’s every pore. “I let him go.”

“You- …what?”

Wyll slackens against Gale’s restraint -- not convinced, but confused enough to lose some steam. Tathlyn stares him down and Gale does what he can to press himself more bodily between the two of them. Wyll’s feet scrape in the dirt as he takes one, then two steps backward.

“I let him go,” Tathlyn says again, ice knives dripping from each syllable. “Not that I’d be able to prove it to you. Then again, I don’t know that you’d take proof even if I were able to produce it, so perhaps you can satisfy yourself with this if you’re already so sure what to make of me: if I’d actually intended to hurt him, the whole camp would’ve heard him screaming.”

Gale winces and Wyll doesn’t seem able to decide between flushing with rage or paling in fear. While the two of them stand, frozen, Tathlyn pushes past them, out toward the edge of camp where the firelight doesn’t hurt so much to look at.

“Dinner’s portioned,” he says as he goes, “Have at it.”

[mctoran]

Entity 18: The Beast

“And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast. They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill The Beast.”

By @ally-charnutz and @nooknic14

[skyward-floored]

hotel california lyrics :3

On a dark desert highway Cool wind in my hair Warm smell of colitas Rising up through the air Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim I had to stop for the night

There she stood in the doorway I heard the mission bell And I was thinkin' to myself "This could be heaven or this could be hell" Then she lit up a candle And she showed me the way There were voices down the corridor I thought I heard them say

"Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely place (such a lovely place) Such a lovely face Plenty of room at the Hotel California Any time of year (any time of year) You can find it here"

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted She got the Mercedes-Benz, uh She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys That she calls friends How they dance in the courtyard Sweet summer sweat Some dance to remember Some dance to forget

So I called up the Captain "Please bring me my wine" He said, "We haven't had that spirit here Since 1969" And still, those voices are calling From far away Wake you up in the middle of the night Just to hear them say

"Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely place (such a lovely place) Such a lovely face They're livin' it up at the Hotel California What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise) Bring your alibis"

Mirrors on the ceiling The pink champagne on ice And she said, "We are all just prisoners here Of our own device" And in the master's chambers They gathered for the feast They stab it with their steely knives But they just can't kill the beast

Last thing I remember I was running for the door I had to find the passage back To the place I was before "Relax, " said the night man "We are programmed to receive You can check out any time you like But you can never leave!"

Ahhh gotcha, spooky song, hotel you can never leave 👍

huh... kinda like the roach motels

[chaoticccmind]

Mirrors on the ceiling

With pink champagne on ice, and she said

"We are all just prisoners here of our own device"

And in the master's chambers

They gathered for the feast

Stab it with their steely knives

But they just can't kill the beast

Last thing I remember

I was running for the door

Had to find the passage back to the place I was before

"Relax", said the night man

"We are programmed to receive"

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave

[desklamper]

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night There she stood in the doorway, I heard the mission bell And I was thinkin' to myself, "This could be heaven or this could be hell" Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say

"Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely place (such a lovely place) Such a lovely face Plenty of room at the Hotel California Any time of year (any time of year) You can find it here"

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes-Benz, uh She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys that she calls friends How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat Some dance to remember, some dance to forget So I called up the Captain, "Please bring me my wine" He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969" And still, those voices are calling from far away Wake you up in the middle of the night just to hear them say

"Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely place (such a lovely place) Such a lovely face They're livin' it up at the Hotel California What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise) Bring your alibis"

Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice And she said, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device" And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast Last thing I remember, I was running for the door I had to find the passage back to the place I was before "Relax, " said the night man, "We are programmed to receive You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave"

why did you write the whole hotel california song in my inbox? thx ig

[maria021015]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 41 AHEAD!

On a dark desert highway - cool wind in my hair, warm smell of colitas rising up through the air. Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim. I had to stop for the night.

There she stood in the doorway. I heard the mission bell, and I was thinkin' to myself, ‘This could be heaven or this could be hell’. Then she lit up a candle, and she showed me the way. There were voices down the corridor. I thought I heard them say…

‘Welcome to the Hotel California! Such a lovely place - such a lovely face. Plenty of room at the Hotel California! Any time of year, you can find it here’

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted. She got the Mercedes-Benz. She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys that she calls friends. How they dance in the courtyard - sweet summer sweat. Some dance to remember, some dance to forget. So I called up the Captain, ‘Please bring me my wine. He said, ‘We haven't had that spirit here since 1969. And still, those voices are calling from far away. Wake you up in the middle of the night just to hear them say…

‘Welcome to the Hotel California! Such a lovely place - such a lovely face. They're livin' it up at the Hotel California! What a nice surprise - bring your alibis.’

Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice, and she said, ‘We are all just prisoners here of our own device’. And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast. They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast. Last thing I remember, I was running for the door. I had to find the passage back to the place I was before.

‘Relax’, said the night man, ‘We are programmed to receive. You can check out any time you like but you can never leave!’

The breaks squealed eerily as the bus pulled into the front lot of an old motel. A brightly-lit, flickering neon sign notified them that this particular establishment was called ‘Motel Glen Capri’. Unfortunately, it seemed as though a more fitting name would have been ‘Motel California’, after the similarly-named song ‘Hotel California’. ‘Intertextuality’ - Zaida mused internally, remembering another one of her flashcards. As the brunette peered out the window to the almost completely empty parking lot, she felt ghostly fingers trail a path down her spine, sending goosebumps rippling over her skin. Out of all of the motels Finstock could have chosen to stay for the night, it had to be here. At least their luck of late had been consistent. Consistently awful , that was. She didn’t know why she had expected anything more when hearing that the meet was pushed back due to the extreme weather warning.

“There’s only one other car parked - and it’s probably the person who works here.” She mumbled to the werewolf beside her. There were multiple echoes of slightly-differing but equally strong emotions that knocked against those tightly shut doors in her mind. Something bad had happened here. She could feel the imprint of it, left behind like fossilised tracks. "Maybe there’s a reason."

“It’s not like we have a choice,” Isaac shrugged and rose from his seat to follow the stream of students fast-emptying the bus. “Come on princess, you can put up with it for one night.”

She rolled her eyes at his teasing but followed him regardless, slinging her duffel bag up and over her shoulder. The moment her sneaker-enclosed feet landed on the solid ground, that knocking grew louder.

“...I've seen worse.” Scott tried to be positive as he stood on the asphalt overlooking the dungy building.

“Where have you seen worse?” Stiles scoffed in exasperation, hating the look of the place almost as much as Zaida.

“Listen up! The meet's been pushed 'til tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves!” Finstock announced in his booming voice as he addressed them all. Ah, so that was why they were here instead of the forest down the road - which would have been a better place to stay in comparison. Maybe the forest animals decided they didn’t have enough room. “You'll be pairing up - girls with girls and boys with boys - so choose wisely. And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants! Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!”

“Coach, there are an odd number of girls!” Zaida pointed out. The man narrowed his eyes, scanning over the group as if he was counting to make sure she was telling the truth.

“Right,” He nodded when he had finished. “You can pair up with Danny then, thanks for volunteering.”

“Making Danny pair up with a girl just because he’s gay is clear discrimination.” She pointed out mischievously for the sake of arguing with the man. Truth be told, she was grateful it was at least Danny and not Ethan.

“Don’t you start with me, missy.” He pointed a finger at her. “The last time somebody suggested such a thing - thanks McCall - I proved everybody wrong! I love the gays! The man I slept with to prove I wasn’t homophobic was gay - and he was a great guy, bought me dinner and everything.”

“Coach-” Stiles began with a snicker but Finatock blew his shrill whistle to shut him up once more.

“That’s enough!” The man glared at them all and held out the keys he had collected from the front desk for them to take. “Everybody take your keys and leave me alone! If somebody wakes me up from my court-mandated eight hours of NyQuil-induced sleep, there better be a fire. Except for you, Greenberg! Even if the sky was raining down army tanks filled with the living dead, I wouldn’t want you to wake me.”

The group quickly dispersed, undoubtedly discussing amongst themselves how they were going to sneak into each others’ rooms and whatnot. It left Zaida and Lydia standing beside each other, both girls unsure about approaching any closer.

“Lydia...?” Allison turned back to frown at them in questioning. “Zaida?”

“I don't like this place.” The redhead pursed her lips into a thin line with wary green eyes.

“I don't think the people who own this place like this place.” Allison chuckled, brushing off the girl’s concerns for a superficial dislike of a hotel that was anything less than five stars. Normally Zaida would make the same joke, but Lydia was right. The thick and palpable negative energy that shrouded the motel only seemed to grow stronger the closer she got. Maybe it was best if she didn’t admit to that aloud though, considering Lydia was already concerned and they’d have to stay here through the night either way. “It's just for a night.”

“A lot can happen in one night…” Lydia murmured and Zaida drew the girl’s hand into hers, giving her a reassuring squeeze before tugging her forward. Inwardly, she reinforced those doors in her head until the knocking quietened and faded.

“Come on, Lyds. I want to get to my room and freshen up before Danny claims the shower. I have a feeling he has a rigorous pampering routine.” Zaida grinned, attempting to make light of the situation for her friend’s sake.

“With skin as clear and hydrated as his?” She arched a delicate brow. “Definitely.”

As it turned out, Zaida should have been more worried about Ethan and Danny claiming the room to ‘catch-up’. She had walked in, screamed an uncomfortable apology, and walked straight back out with her cheeks burning. Well, so much for claiming the bathroom. After what she witnessed she was sure she didn’t want to touch anything in that room.

Allison and Lydia had both expressed their desires to shower (though the latter may have changed her mind when she saw the state of the facilities), leaving Zaida with two options. She could seek out Isaac’s room and undoubtedly face many teasing jokes and be subjected to Boyd’s deadly mood, or she could swallow her pride and hope that Scott and Stiles would allow her to use their shower. She went with the latter. Her stomach twisted with dread as she knocked on their door and waited for one of them to answer. The blood in her ears beat to the thundering of her pulse, quickening as her thoughts ran rampant uncontrollably. She couldn’t shake the image of Stiles and Lydia sat beside each other with Scott and Allison behind them.

Zaida had never seen the sense in Lydia and Stiles as a match, but now that she knew her own feelings for the boy, perhaps it was always just a subconscious hope that they would never eventuate. One thing was for certain, she held a biased opinion. Coming from an outsider's perspective, she supposed it made sense. The boy had been pining over Lydia for years, and the girl was finally shedding her shallow and vapid self in favour of a new and improved version. In the movies, that kind of a redemption arc would guarantee the boy finally getting the girl. Hearing them work things out together on the bus made Zaida realise that maybe one of the best things about herself and Stiles - their investigative bond - wasn’t only unique to them. The feelings of betrayal, inadequacy and jealousy only rose to the surface once more. Looking on at all four of her friends together and knowing Lydia could easily replace her role in the quartet planted the worry that things wouldn’t have been all that different had Zaida never moved to Beacon Hills. Maybe one day they would realise that too. That they didn’t need her. That she didn’t matter anymore…and maybe she never had.

Her spiralling thoughts and churning guts were silenced by Stiles opening the door to the motel room. The sight of Stiles with wet hair and only a towel wrapped around him, hanging low on his hips, stirred a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. Her lips parted in surprise and she couldn’t stop her eyes from roving the planes of defined muscle of his torso.

“Zaida? Hey, what are you doing here?” The boy's brows furrowed slightly in questioning and her heart only thumped louder in her chest when he leaned against the door frame with his forearm, displaying the veins that webbed prominently beneath the skin.

“Oh, uh…I was just going to ask if you guys were using your shower - which, clearly you were, and are not currently.” She stumbled over her words at a far faster pace than usual in her flustered state.

“Scott already had one and I just finished. Why, did Danny hog all the hot water?” He jested, unaware of her current predicament.

“He never made it to the bathroom, actually. But from the looks of what he and Ethan were getting up to, he will definitely be needing one later.” She raised her brows and swallowed her rising disgust at the memory of what she’d walked in on.

“Oh God, my condolences.” Stiles wrinkled his nose in an expression mirroring how she felt. “You can use ours.”

He finally stepped aside, moving those distracting muscles away from her line of sight and allowing her to function normally again - or semi-normally, at least. When she stepped further into the room Scott shot her a knowing look and she glared at him. Damn those werewolf senses. Dragging her duffel bag with her into the bathroom, Zaida peeled off her musty bus clothes and stepped beneath the hot shower spray. The water pressure wasn’t great, and most of the tiles were edged in pink mold that climbed from the grouting, but at least she felt a bit cleaner when she stepped out. She hadn’t packed any pyjamas - having not planned on staying the night - but she had packed an extra outfit for after the cross country, anticipating how awful it would feel to endure the five hour bus ride back in her sweaty clothes.

When she exited the bathroom Stiles and Scott were lying down on their twin single beds, staring up at the peeled and cracked ceiling. Stiles was fully dressed this time in dark-wash jeans, a grey T-shirt and a maroon jacket that clung to his biceps in a way that made Zaida flush.

“Hey, come here,” Stiles beckoned her over, patting on the thin mattress beneath him. She tentatively took a seat at the end of his bed. “We need your brain.”

“To hell with the rest of me, right?” She snorted sarcastically, though it was only partially a joke. A headache was beginning to play behind her eyes like a drumming in her brain.

“All right, so I have four.” Stiles returned to the conversation he had been previously having with Scott, leaving Zaida to guess at the subject matter. “Lydia and I think that the Darach and the alpha pack are preparing for war against each other. The alphas are expanding their pack, and the Darach is committing human sacrifices for power - however that works.”

“Four? You have four suspects?” Scott raised a brow towards his hairline. So that’s what they were talking about. Scott finally allowed his best friend to discuss the identity of the Darach.

“Yeah, it was originally ten. Well, nine, technically, I guess - I had Derek on there twice.” Stiles lifted his shoulders into a half-shrug.

“Well, I guess we can cross him off, now that he’s… you know.” Zaida muttered. She was still bitter about Stiles and Lydia working together without her.

“So, who's number one? Harris?” Scott brushed off her comment.

“Just because he's missing, doesn't mean he's dead.” Stiles nodded in confirmation.

“So, if he's not dead, our chemistry teacher is out secretly committing human sacrifices...?” Scott added skeptically.

“Yeah, I guess that just sounded way better in my head.” Stiles winced when he realised how far-fetched his theory sounded aloud.

“Harrris is definitely sketchy, but why would he write ‘Darach’ on his graded papers and leave them on his desk if it was him? That’s self-incrimination at the most , and giving us crucial information the Darach wouldn’t want people knowing at the least.” Zaida pointed out.

“Maybe he was trying to throw suspicion off, or maybe the alphas got to him before he could clean it up?” The Sheriff’s son suggested.

“I don’t think so. He was leaving a message - like he knew he was going to be taken. Maybe he knew who the Darach was.” Zaida offered.

“Well, what if it's someone else from school? Like, you remember Matt? We didn't know that he was killing people…” Scott interjected, trying to be helpful.

“Excuse me? I'm sorry, what? I-“ Stiles craned his neck, leaning up to look at his friend with an appalled expression. “Yes, we did! I called that from day one , actually.”

“Yeah, but we never really thought that it was Matt…” Scott chuckled lightly.

“I was serious! I was quite serious, actually! Deadly serious! No one listened to me!” Stiles scoffed and got to his feet in his outrage.

“I listened to you,” Zaida mumbled under her breath. Between his comment just then and how he had only validated her earlier theory of Scott’s injury-origins when Lydia had said it, she felt entirely overlooked.

“Who were the other three?” The werewolf pulled them back on track.

“Derek's sister, Cora - no one knows anything about her, and she's Derek's sister.” Stiles tucked down another finger as he demonstrated the list on his hand. “Next, your boss.”

“My boss?” Scott repeated in surprise, sitting up.

“Yeah, your boss. I don't really like the whole Obi-Wan thing he's got going on, you know? It freaks me out.” Stiles explained and at Scott’s confounded look his jaw dropped. “...Oh, my God! Have you still not seen Star Wars?!”

“I swear, if we make it back alive, I will watch the movie.” Scott sighed in defeat.

“That’s ‘movies’ plural, Scotty boy.” Zaida corrected.

“How many are there?” He questioned with a clueless frown.

“Three in the original trilogy, three in the prequels, three in the sequels, three non-canon Ewok spin offs, two standalone spin offs, then the Clone Wars film and tv show, and most recently, the Kenobi and Ashoka spin-off shows. Plus the holiday special, Star Wars Rebels, The Mandelorian, Andor, The Book of Boba Fett, Lego Star Wars, the upcoming Droid Story film...” Zaida listed them as Scott’s eyes only grew wider and wider along with Stiles’ broad smile. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“No!” Scott shook his head definitively and changed the subject. “Stiles, you said you had four. Who was the last suspect?”

“...Lydia. She was totally controlled by Peter, and she had no idea, so…” The boy admitted with a grim expression.

“What? My best friend is not going around committing human sacrifices!” Zaida blurted in defence of the girl, in disbelief that he had even suggested such a thing.

“I’m not saying she’s doing it on purpose. When Peter controlled her, she had no clue what she was doing. He could be doing it again. Think about it, Lydia found one of the bodies and has no idea how she ended up there.” Stiles elaborated on his theory, and when he put it that way Zaida supposed it was an undeniable possibility. “Maybe she didn’t just find the body.”

“I need some food.” She rubbed at her temples, easing the tension there as she got to her feet.

“I’ll come with you. I saw a vending machine on our way in.” Stiles offered, though it was more of a demand than a question. He was up and leading the way out of the door in only a few moments.

“You coming, Scotty boy?” Zaida looked to the werewolf hopefully, not quite wanting to be alone with Stiles right now.

“No, you guys go.” Scott was too zoned-out to pick up on her silent plea for his company, leaving a disappointed Zaida to trail after Stiles.

“Maybe this isn’t the best idea - you and vending machines don’t exactly have a long-standing history of a good relationship.” The brunette pointed out in a sarcastic drawl as she followed after the boy outside, walking along the balcony that was lined with other room numbers.

“That was ages ago. I’m a changed man, Zaida.” He winked at her. Certainly he was a changed man. Compared to that hyperactive little boy and self-assured, strong-willed girl they were back then, both of them had changed. He was a bit calmer now - though still chaotic - and more confident. As for herself? Well she wasn’t so sure anymore. She’d thought that she’d found her place in Beacon Hills - that she meant something, and that she made a difference. She’d thought that now that she was in more control of her abilities, she was powerful. Last night at the mall only proved to her how wrong she had been. She was completely worthless, her ice shards discarded in a split second by a blind man. If it weren’t for Allison and her flash arrows, them being there would have been a disaster. There was nothing Zaida could do to help her friends, or her brother for that matter. In fact, all she had done was force Xander to paint a target on his back to protect her. The only difference she had made was that she’d somehow managed to make the situation entirely worse.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet. What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?” Stiles wondered, his analytical amber eyes arrowing on her - able to see right through her to the turmoil within. ‘Brilliant’ - she snorted audibly. Not so brilliant that she could figure out the Darach and alphas were opposing sides in an upcoming battle. Not so brilliant that she could find a way to save her brother from the fate she bestowed upon him. Not so brilliant that Stiles would believe her theories before Lydia confirmed them.

“I’m fine, Stiles.” She spat back with more venom in her tone than she intended.

“Okay, now I definitely know something is wrong. When you say you’re fine, you’re not fine. Ever .” He shook his head. “Is it about Deucalion? About what happened last night? Everyone’s been fussing over if Scott’s okay because his mental anguish manifested in a physical injury, but no one’s asked if you’re okay, have they?”

“You did,” She answered in quiet realisation. He’d cared enough to question if she was up to this trip even before getting on the bus. That small gesture kept that tiny flame of hope burning in her chest, and it was enough to light up the consuming darkness.

“How are you holding up with it all?” He asked with sympathy softening his molten-honey eyes.

“Well, the werewolf who murdered my parents is just waltzing around Beacon Hills, and Xander is next on his hit-list because of me. Yet I’m here on a Cross Country meet while he’s probably running - or fighting - for his life. If he even still has it. So I’d say I’m doing fabulously.” Her lips pulled into a tight and sarcastic smile.

“You know it’s not your fault, right? There was no way for you to have known any of that was going to happen.” Stiles attempted to reason with her, but guilt was far stronger than logic. It clawed at her insides, raking deep scrapes into her very bones.

“But it is my fault, whether I meant for it to happen or not. I’m the reason my brother might be dead right now.” She swallowed hard, her self-disgust and inadequacy rising thickly in her throat. It was sickening.

“You…you don’t know that. Xander could be safe.” The boy tried - the way she was speaking was entirely foreign. He’d never heard her talk like that before. Zaida always had a plan B, and then a plan C, or D, all the way through to Z. She always seemed to know what to do. Always appeared two steps ahead of the rest of them. Zaida Callis never gave up. But right now, she sounded entirely hopeless, and it struck fear into his gut. “Your brother knows what he’s doing - he’s police trained and he’s a Hunter trained by the Argents - the oldest Hunter family ever! He’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” She muttered, not wanting to talk about this anymore. Not even with him. Talking about it only meant she had to think about it, and she was already thinking about it enough. Zaida was thankful when the two of them descended the noisy metal staircase and reached the vending machine beneath it, effectively cutting off their conversation. Boyd was standing and staring at the glass with another one of his famous deadpan expressions as he punched in the buttons on the keypad to select Peanut Butter Crackers.

“Hey! That was the same thing I was gonna get.” Stiles grinned in a friendly fashion as he peered nosily from next to the beta. The metal swirl holding the snacks rotated, but not enough to release the packet into the drop-chute. “Oh, hang on...You know what? I got a patented method for this, don't worry-”

“Stiles,” Zaida let out an exhausted sigh as the boy gripped the machine from its top, preparing to shake it. Boyd interrupted them both, punching straight through the glass with a closed fist, the rest of him not moving so much as an inch. He snatched his snack from the machine and turned on his heel, leaving without so much as a word. “Oh my God…” She frowned as her eyes followed the werewolf. What was it with people in Beacon Hills breaking vending machines?

Stiles, on the other hand, took the opportunity to grab as many items as he could hold, cautious eyes darting about for anyone who might see him committing vending machine theft. “How are you the son of the Sheriff?” Zaida tutted at his law-breaking tendencies.

“It’s because I'm the son of the Sheriff,” He assured her and ushered her away from the scene of the crime, back up the stairs and towards him and Scott’s room.

“Oh no, I’m not going to get caught for you pillaging the motel vending machine. You’re on your own, buddy.” She held up her hands and shook her head, splitting off in the opposite direction with a lazy salute.

“I thought you were hungry?” Stiles called out as she turned back.

“Not anymore. Crime makes me lose my appetite,” She jested dryly. In truth, she really couldn’t bear being around him right now - not when every time she looked at him, she only saw him sitting beside Lydia in that bus.

Unfortunately Danny and Ethan were not yet ‘finished’ in her own room. Zaida discovered that the hard way, and was left with yet another dilemma - she could retreat to Stiles and Scott’s room with her proverbial tail between her legs, or she could seek out Lydia and Allison. She went with the lesser of the two evils and ventured a bit further down the upstairs walkway to where she knew the redhead and huntress were situated. When Lydia opened the door for her and ushered her inside, Zaida wasn’t expecting the vile and acrid taste of jealousy to bubble over and leave a bitter taste in her mouth - but it did. How did the girl still look so beautiful after five hours in a car - over two of those hours spent in a crowded bus? She hadn’t even had a shower or changed her clothes. She looked exactly as perfect as she had looked when she was seated next to Stiles, having him gaze at her with his amber-eyes.

“Come on in, you can sit anywhere you like, although I wouldn’t recommend it,” The redhead wrinkled her nose in disgust at the state of the accommodation they were put up in.

Even that somehow looked adorable on her small button nose. When Zaida did that, she always thought her straight-bridged European nose simply looked like a wrinkled beak. That feeling of inadequacy boiled once again within Zaida. In all of their friendship, she’d tried hard to not compare herself with Lydia, knowing it would never end well. But now she couldn’t help it. Zaida was suddenly very aware of the differences between her and her best friend. The redhead had captured Stiles Stilinski’s heart, for starters, without even trying to do so. She was much prettier as well. In fact, in more ways than not Zaida paled in comparison to the redhead’s beauty and other talents. She wasn’t musical enough, wasn’t artistic enough, wasn’t as intelligent. It was as if all of the things Zaida had prided herself for, Lydia could do better.

“Oh, hey Zaida,” Allison flashed her a bright smile from where she was kicked back on her bed, typing away at her phone.

With a jolt Zaida realised it was not just Lydia, but Allison as well who was better than her. Zaida had been utterly powerless the night before, but Allison had held her own, likely saving Scott and Isaac along with the other members of Derek’s pack with her flash-bomb arrows. Zaida wasn’t that skilful, or that calm in the face of danger. She wasn’t calculated enough, wasn’t knowledgeable enough. Zaida simply wasn’t enough. Not enough of anything.

“What are you guys up to?” Zaida took a seat on the end of Lydia’s untouched bed in what she hoped was a casual manner.

“Lydia was just filling me in.” Allison nodded towards the still-standing redhead.

“Stiles and I think that the Darach and the alpha pack are related, just not in the way we first believed. In ancient cultures, ritualistic sacrifices in preparation for battle were quite common. The Darach could be committing these sacrifices for the same reason the alphas are recruiting - they’re preparing for battle. Likely against each other.” Lydia’s lips drew into a tight line as revealed what she thought was new information. Little did she know that Zaida had heard it twice before - once on the bus and once from Stiles’ own mouth.

“Yeah, I heard,” She nodded, trying and failing to keep the bitterness from her tone. Thankfully, neither of the girls picked up on its true origins, attributing it to the stress of the challenges before them.

“Now that you mention it, I was going to ask about that,” Allison put her phone away and leaned forwards against her propped up knees.

“About what?” Lydia arched a perfectly shaped brow. Zaida could already tell she wouldn’t like where this was going at all. She’d pretty much reached boiling point already and was not prepared to hold herself back from the edge much longer.

“About you and Stiles,” The huntress prodded purposefully, waiting for a reaction to confirm her suspicions, yet not the ones Zaida immediately assumed they were. The huntress had noticed a change in the way Stiles interacted with Lydia - a change that she thought might mean the boy had moved on. “You two seemed like you were getting along pretty well on the bus. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you guys have a one-on-one conversation without him bumbling over his words or making a pass at you.”

“Yeah, well hopefully that means his pathetic little crush on me is a thing of the past,” The redhead rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Seriously, what did he think was going to happen? A girl says ‘no’ enough times and you’d think he’d catch the hint.”

“It isn’t some ‘pathetic little crush’,” Zaida snapped and Allison’s eyes shot towards her, widening slightly. Her friend’s dismissive attitude towards Stiles’ feelings only made Zaida’s growing frustration and agitation spike, tipping her over the edge.

“Following me around like a stray puppy-dog begging for scraps is pretty pathetic, if you ask me.” The redhead joked with an amused hum, so used to haughtily brushing off his affections that she did so mindlessly. It only propelled Zaida further down the emotional spiral she’d been descending all afternoon.

“Don’t you realise just how incredibly lucky you are?!” Zaida’s face flushed with anger and it was only then that Lydia recognised something was wrong. “That boy would do anything for you. He cares about you so much and you don’t even have to look twice at him. He’s never pushed you, he’s never asked for anything more than what you were willing to give him. He is so unbelievably loyal and devoted that he knew you were never interested and he still hasn’t moved on for the slim chance that one day you might want him back.”

“Zay, I didn’t mean-” The redhead swiftly tried to backtrack when she opened her eyes to how she’d offended the girl. “He’s just not my type…”

“He is hilarious, and selfless, and thoughtful, and a complete genius! I don’t know what else you could want from him. He’s perfect, Lydia, and I’m hopelessly falling for him when all he can see is you!” Zaida was yelling now, her chest heaving when she realised the reality of what she had just blurted. Her hands flew to cup her mouth and she let out a strangled sob of surprise, tears welling. For a brief period of silence everyone was frozen, not knowing what to do or say in reaction to her outburst.

“...I’m sorry. I…I don’t know where that came from.” Zaida cleared her throat with a quiet voice. Lydia took a step towards her, green eyes wide in shock and sympathy, but Zaida held an arm out to stop the girl in her tracks. She just needed some space for a moment to deal with the overwhelming wave of anxiety that washed over her. “Don’t…just…don’t.”

“Zaida…I had no idea.” Lydia slowly and tentatively took a seat on the bed beside the brunette. She inwardly scolded herself. Of course she’d had no idea - she was so self-absorbed that she’d neglected to notice how her best friend was feeling when now that she thought about it, it had been so obvious. Those lingering looks during training before summer break, and the way her eyes would light up when talking about something stupid he’d said or done. It had been in the way she’d gone silent when the three of them would hang out together and Stiles would make a flirty joke that Lydia would ignore. “How…how long?”

Zaida didn’t answer. Her head hung low, heavy from the weight of her shame. This was not how she’d intended to inform her friends of her feelings. In fact, she hadn't wanted to tell them at all, afraid of how things might change between her and Lydia. She’d never wanted the redhead to feel guilty - after all, it wasn’t her fault that Stiles had chosen her. It wasn’t her fault that Zaida wasn’t enough. She could see from the girl’s wide green eyes that it was too late to prevent that now. “I don’t know…” She finally ground out in a hoarse voice. “A while?”

Allison scooted over her bed to sit on the edge, coming closer to offer her support. “How long have you known ?” She reframed Lydia’s question, remembering how Zaida had brushed it off when she’d last suggested such a thing - the night that they’d hunted Cora and Boyd. The warmth and compassion behind her dark brown doe eyes softened the pounding in Zaida’s temples, like the steady rhythm of a song beating against the walls of her mind.

“The beginning of summer, when we went to the beach house.” She admitted, releasing some of the built-up tension within her with her confession.

“But that was months ago?” Lydia exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“There was no point - Stiles has made his feelings for you pretty damn clear. There’s nothing you could have done. There’s still nothing that you can do.” The brunette shook her head. “Stiles likes you, Lydia. He knows that you might not ever like him back, but he can’t help how he feels - the same way that I can’t help how I feel. And I can’t blame him for not liking me, just like I can’t blame you for his feelings.” Now that everything was out in the open, that knocking in her mind had quietened, allowing her to calm her raging storm of emotions. Five things. “I’m honestly surprised that you didn’t notice - everyone else did.”

Lydia turned to Allison for confirmation and the huntress answered with a sad smile. “Even you?” The redhead raised her brows in surprise.

“I suspected it for a while, but when I teased Zaida about it she immediately turned the subject around onto me…” Allison trailed off as she recalled the moment she had known it to be true.

“Who else knew?” Lydia questioned. The fact that she was the last one to figure it out when Zaida was her best friend only added to her growing sense of guilt.

“I thought Scott was the first - he could smell it in my chemo-signals. But now that I think about it, Danny and Isaac were making comments from months before that…” Zaida thought back to all of Danny’s jokes that she’d brushed off, and that one time Isaac had pointed out to her that all of the qualities that had attracted her to him , Stiles also possessed. Four things.

“Oh my God, I’m the worst friend ever,” Lydia shook her head in disbelief. How could she have been so blind - so self-absorbed - that she hadn’t seen it?

“You are not the worst friend ever - in fact you’re far from it.” Zaida rushed to defend Lydia from her self-criticism, reaching to squeeze her hand supportively. Three things. “You were going through everything with Jackson, and on top of that you were helping me with training, and my parents’ murder, and finding out what I am. It’s not your fault that I didn’t tell you.”

“I just wish that you would have said something,” Lydia mumbled, tilting her head in an empathetic expression and gripping Zaida’s hand tightly.

“I knew that telling you about it would have only made you feel bad for something you couldn’t control.” Zaida sighed deeply. “I didn’t want you to feel like that, and I didn’t want to let it come between us.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Lydia promised determinedly. “We’re not going to let it.”

Zaida responded with the warmest smile she could muster despite the cold creeping further into her bones.

After a while of hanging out in the girls’ motel room, thoroughly avoiding the subject of Stiles Stilinski and talking about anything and everything else, Allison decided to have a shower. The huntress looked up from where she was rifling through the bathroom cupboards, pulling out a stack of towels, carrying them over to where the other girls were laying side by side on Lydia’s bed.

“I don’t think these towels are clean…” The taller girl trailed off, looking at the items with an unsure expression while Zaida and Lydia drew their attention away from taking selfies on the redhead’s phone.

“No kidding,” Lydia took a short sniff and pulled back quickly. “That smells like a chronic smoker hid their cancerous lungs in it.”

“Maybe they forgot to change them,” Allison attempted to brush it off kindly, whereas Lydia looked pissed off.

“Or maybe, they just never change them. Maybe these bed sheets are years old. Maybe, they never clean anything.” The redhead prattled on with her hands crossed over her chest in a sassy pose.

“Ugh, I really need a shower though,” Allison pulled at her slightly-oily brown hair with an apprehensive expression.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Lydia snatched the towels from her so the brunette couldn’t use them and bounced to her feet. “I’m going to go down to the office and give these people a piece of my mind. This place is in violation of like a hundred health safety laws.”

“I’ll go with her to make sure she doesn’t cuss anyone out.” Zaida rolled her eyes fondly at the redhead and followed her out of the room.

There was no stopping Lydia when she was on a mission. The girl’s heeled boots clacked against the metal staircase as she strutted her way to the management office window, dropping the towels down on the bench and addressing the older lady there, who had her back to them. “Be nice,” Zaida whispered a reminder to the girl.

“Excuse me? The card on the dresser says we have a non-smoking room, but somehow…all our towels reek of nicotine.” The redhead muttered and the woman turned only for them to see a transparent rubber tube embedded in her throat. A tracheotomy tube, Zaida recognised with a shiver.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart.” The woman rasped in a hoarse voice, clearly damaged from years of heavy smoking. Zaida shot Lydia a stern look and the girl’s lips thinned guiltily for her attitude. As they waited for the lady to return with fresh towels, Lydia’s eyes were drawn to a number framed on the office’s wall.

“What's that? That number?” The redhead questioned, unable to help satiating her curiosity once the lady returned with clean towels.

“It's kind of an inside thing for the motel. My husband insists on keeping it up.” The woman chuckled darkly and the sound sent goosebumps rippling down Zaida’s spine.

“What do you mean?” Lydia prodded further.

“It's a little bit morbid, to be honest…” The owner admitted. “You sure you want to know?”

“Well, with a preface like that,” Zaida raised a brow.

“Tell me.” Lydia nodded impatiently.

“We're not gonna make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction…” The lady began.

“Obviously.” The redhead interjected with a rude scoff and Zaida sent her a reprimanding expression.

“But we are number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening - more than any other motel in California - we have the most guest suicides.” The woman’s face twisted into a slight smile, a glint in her eyes that was almost disturbing.

“One hundred and ninety-eight?” Lydia confirmed with wide green eyes, double-checking the number as if she didn’t believe she’d seen it correctly now that she knew what it represented.

“And counting!” The woman cackled. If Zaida wasn’t creeped out before, she sure as hell was now.

[xheartpages]

@bittcnneck asked: "you need to let go of it. I have no time to entertain this little high school crush of yours."

It was like sharp arrows pointed directly through his heart; with the sharp stabs that accompanied such words. Lucifer's words could be as venomous as the poison he enjoyed drinking, and the angel is reminded of it swiftly and fiercely. His expression remains unchanged, blue eyes flickering over his face for a moment before Simeon snorts faintly, glancing away.

He wondered if Lucifer knew just how much that had hurt him.

If it was intentional to do so, or if he was just that good at casually slinging words as sharp as knives.

" --- When have I asked you to entertain anything, Lucifer?" He drops his affectionate nickname, voice light and yet steely around the edges; the smile pulling at his lips barely reaching his eyes. " ... Although I can't say you are completely wrong, however. There are ... many things that I need to learn to let go of."

Like you; I see.

Simeon glanced away, letting his eyes linger on an imaginary point as his expression fell for barely a moment; fixing itself in the span of a single blink before his smile is tightened on his lips. " -- I should go make sure Luke is staying out of trouble. Besides; I wouldn't want to distract you on the chance that your prince decides to call for you, yeah?" There's the slightest hint of bitterness in his voice, poorly coated with honey around the artificial sugar that was his robotic smile, before he bows his head slightly; taking a step back and walking out of the room.

[megan0013]

HOTEL ARCADIA AU MASTER LIST

1. welcome to the hotel arcadia (moodboard)

2. cast & crew (list of deaths)

3. room 89

4. “they stab it with their steely knives, but they just can’t kill the beast” (1/9: #8 jim, #9 barbara)

5. “how they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat” (2/9: #1 douxie, #2 zoe)

[roarkmaster]

And in the master's chambers

They gathered for the feast.

They stab it with their steely knives,

but they just can't, MR BEAST

[lavenderlyncis]

They stab me with their steely knives but they just can't kill the beast

[frankbrodauf]

[Hotel California] [Eagles] [1976] [LP] Oh how I love it, this ingenious improvised guitar duet... But also the vocals of Don Henley and at all everything, just great! . . . . . On a dark desert highway Cool wind in my hair Warm smell of colitas Rising up through the air Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim I had to stop for the night . There she stood in the doorway I heard the mission bell And I was thinking to myself "This could be Heaven or this could be Hell" Then she lit up a candle And she showed me the way There were voices down the corridor I thought I heard them say . Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely place (such a lovely place) Such a lovely face Plenty of room at the Hotel California Any time of year (any time of year) You can find it here . Her mind is Tiffany-twisted She got the Mercedes Benz She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys That she calls friends How they dance in the courtyard Sweet summer sweat Some dance to remember Some dance to forget . So I called up the Captain "Please bring me my wine" He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here Since 1969" And still those voices are calling from far away Wake you up in the middle of the night Just to hear them say . Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely place (such a lovely place) Such a lovely face They livin' it up at the Hotel California What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise) Bring your alibis . Mirrors on the ceiling The pink champagne on ice And she said, 'We are all just prisoners here Of our own device" And in the master's chambers They gathered for the feast They stab it with their steely knives But they just can't kill the beast . Last thing I remember, I was Running for the door I had to find the passage back To the place I was before "Relax, " said the night man "We are programmed to receive You can check out any time you like But you can never leave" . . . . . #HotelCalifornia #NewKidInTown #TheEagles #TheEaglesBand #TheEaglesHotelCalifornia #GlennFrey #DonFelder #JosephFidler #JoeWalsh #BernieLeadon #RandyMeisner #AsylumRecords #BillSzymczyk #Rockmusic #CountryRock #WestCoastMusic #SoftRock #FolkRock https://www.instagram.com/p/CpQbg9zohT0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[drmonkeysetroscans]

They stab it with their steely knives...

[supercupcakecollector-love]

I didn’t realize how deep into the Witcher brain rot I was until I was listening to the radio and the song Hotel California came on with the lyrics :

“They stab it with their steely knives

But they just can't kill the beast”

and Im like, “well there’s your problem you’ve gotta use silver”