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rafikny · 11 months

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youtube

Best band you never heard.

#afrobeats #afro funk #fela kuti #killer trumpet #killer sax #killer horns #musicthatmakesyoufeelalive #zombie jam #Youtube

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thotsforvillainrights · 2 years

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I just wrote fancy for someone and it awoke my love for calligraphy can I please get snippet reactions of dealers choice of characters getting a handmade love letter written with fancy pens in hand written fonts/cursive? I'll probably come back on this asking for specific characters until I just get all those suckers down

(I’ll do 3 since it was my lucky number since kindergarten! Let’s give some characters I think deserve it.)

~Trumpet/Pops/Stain get a Love Letter~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

~Trumpet~

-I headcanon him as being a really gushy type of guy when he falls in love. As usual I of course think he falls hard and fast but that’s beside the point. Anyway, he’s a big softy for his partner and I think maybe a hopeless romantic. When you present him with a handwritten beautiful letter like that, how is he not supposed to go crazy over it??? He probably takes your favorite scented spray that reminds him of you and sprays the paper lightly. Then he folds it up and keeps it within the inner pockets of his suits. He looks at it all through the day. He does it when he’s stressed, when he needs motivation when going onto the stage, when he feels lonely, when he’s feeling frisky, literally any time of the day. It’s the little piece of you that he can have through the day when you’re not there. Not to mention the fact that he shows it to everyone else around him. It’s nothing new since he does that every day anyway. Cute texts? Show it to the others. Little trinkets? Show it to the others. Selfies? Show it to the others (as long as they’re not naughty ones). They never get a break from hearing about you. The letter will probably be their downfall lol.

~Pops~

-He doesn’t need much to feel loved but it’s always lovely to get gifts from you. His favorite right now is the letter you wrote for him. I think it’s not just the letter but the thought of it. He knows you took your time to make something like this. The lettering, the font, the lines, it was appeasing to the eyes of anyone that could see it. He was sentimental about most things and this was no different. He actually ended up framing it and placing it on his desk so he could admire it throughout the day. He tried to pick up the technique so maybe he could write you one too but it just didn’t work. His hands tended to shake when he focused them too long on something. His work was sloppy and honestly it was nothing compared to you. If you want to make his heart flutter, cherish it like he cherishes your letter. Tell him you love it (even if it kinda looks funny). Pay real close attention to the way he poured his heart out on that paper. It’s rare to find a soulmate like this in the world.

~Stain~

-He’d never had anyone write him a love letter before. Hell, he’d never fallen in love before either. If you haven’t noticed, he’s not conventionally attractive to most people. His attitude and his appearance scared most away. You were different. You got underneath his skin easily and next thing he knew, he’d fallen for you. He wasn’t very romantic at all but that was just fine with you since he tended to show his love in other ways. When you presented that letter to him, he just kinda shut down and stared at it. Not only was it written elegantly to the point he thought you’d printed it out. Then he took the time to read just what you’d written. He gripped the paper tightly in one hand and quickly pulled you into a hug. He was hoping you wouldn’t see him blushing since it was EXTEMELY rare that he did it. He wont tell you but I’m sure he also keeps it with him sometimes. He’s got to find a way to make you feel as loved that you make him feel soon. It’s his mission for the rest of the year and so on.

#this was such a sweet ask #i loved the idea #akaguro chizome #hero killer stain #koku hanabata #trumpet bnha #pops #bnha pops #Headcanon #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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studiousbotanist · 2 years

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had a fun piggy match they played really well adn i got some funny stealth plays off, the two boneheads of the match left me on first hook and were teabagging hardcore right at exit gate ... then left . the haddie saved me but i had my hat on LOLL so i died trying to remove it/get her off hook . pig was very nice in egc though and i apologized on behalf of the teabaggers & they were like . they didtn even try to save you n i was like well thats solo q ! had fun chases though....

#ive known abt the killer since birth #i could see them bouncing up and down adn was like . oh no .#the weenie squad is sounding off their trumpets

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chaoticace2005 · 3 months

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Info on Hazbin Hotel Characters Acquired Via Wiki 5/?: Alastor

-Aroace

-First character in Hazbin, made by Viv in high school

-From New Orleans, mixed-race Creole, only child

-Can speak some French, not fluently

-Was a radio host an prolific serial killer (said to have a “weird moral code” and wouldn’t go after just anyone, having similarities to Dexter)

-Dislikes dogs due to involvement with his death, which was described as “an event he apparently did not appreciate.”

-Killed by being shot in the head by a hunter when attempting to bury body

-Has never eaten McDonalds before

-Likes to vibe in Cannibal Town

-Microphone a living extension of himself, can’t be separated from him

-Can play piano, violin, trumpet, and saxophone

-Hates being touched, going out of way to avoid it in off-putting ways, although he does not care about the personal space of others

-Not good on oral hygiene, has black gums

Staff Artwork:

Original Deer Design: (He’s the red guy, not the cute fawn)

Original Design:

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel radio demon #radio demon #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fun facts

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seronsalk · 2 months

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A pretty little nightingale...

Part 1

Alastor x female reader (sorry gents and non-binary pals, I'll do you next!)

Masterlist AN: An idea I've been obsessed with recently...sorry if it's bad. Dividers from our lovely @saradika-graphics Warnings: Mention of Violence

"Sometimes I stare at my ceiling for so long that I forget where I am. I forget I am in a fiery pit where at any moment a knife could be jabbed into my shoulders or back and twisted. At any moment I could be killed, kidnapped, tortured, or even feasted upon. Would I taste good? Would my killers be satisfied with my death or would they too be disappointed in what I could have been for them? And even now as my alarm goes off, I wonder where my soul would go if I did one night, not wake up."

The morning in hell was pretty normal to the morning's you were alive. Wake up, get ready, go downstairs to the club, dance and sing. That beautiful structure, belting one's heart to an audience every day with no worry.

Until you found yourself doing the same thing, but in your afterlife. In hell. You will forever curse yourself because who else would you blame for your eternal damnation?

As you walked down the stairs to the dark empty club, the other performers were there already practicing.

"Look who rolled out of bed! And how is our princessa this morning?" Dante spoke, he was an insufferable demon to be around this early in the morning, and that Spanish accent rolled off his tongue right into his trumpet. He was a beautiful demon; all the musicians were. It made you wonder why such pretty boys were stuck down here with you.

You smiled at him before speaking, "doing just fine til you opened your mouth, save your air for the horn." Another musician whose name was Hernando, forced everyone to refer to him as Sir Pesci for some weird reason then spoke with a laugh in his voice. "As if saving his air would help him sound better!"-"Hey Hernando, did your mom get the flores I sent her?" Dante suddenly spoke. "Ahhh, vaffanculo," the Italian man cursed back as he waved his hands dismissively at Dante.

You laughed at the scene as the other band members didn't understand a word being said under the accents before they all turned to you. It was warm-up time and it would go on for at least three hours.

By the time the jazz club was about to open you had dolled yourself up. The servers and bartenders had finally rolled in.

Throughout your shift many older sinners had trotted in at the sound of the music. But as you went to take a break in-between songs Dante came up to you. "Y/N, apparently some big shot wants to talk to you backstage."

You looked at him curiously, "Why m-" but you were cut off by your boss. He was an arrogant man who cared less for what others thought of him unless they were giving him money or popularity. One time just to get him to hear you when you complained about fixing the door in your dressing room, you had to pay him twenty bucks. He was built like a bull and like a bull, he sometimes charged in without thought or reason.

"Y/n let's go, got a big customer who wants to meet you!" he dragged you away with his bulky hands. Dante gave you a shrug as he walked off.

Alastor's POV:

It was a normal day in hell, he strutted down the road cane in hand. He was on his way to the cannibal colony to meet with Rosie.

When demons saw him they would jump into traffic or even through windows to avoid his gaze. His devilish constant smile sent even the tougher, bigger demons groveling.

As he was walking though, his ears twitched. The sound of jazz, but more prominent, a beautiful voice. He could recognize the song immediately, Heatwaves, by Ethel Waters. He followed the voice around the corner of the street and saw some demons trickling into a club. He twirled his cane in interest and his smile became wider.

He walked towards the bouncers, two of the biggest mobsters stood strong and firm, but one look at Alastor made them sweat. "Good'ay my good gents, tell me what is this fine establishment about then?" A little hint of Alastors transatlantic southern accent sprung like cattails in a bayou.

One of the bouncers spoke in an almost whisper, "It's The Spotted Fawn jazz club, sir." Alastor's smile widened in interest again. "Well, pay me no mind gentleman, I simply will be taking a look around." And with that, he walked past them and a second later one of the bouncers told the big boss.

He walked in, it smelled of rye and smoke. He loved the atmosphere, it was like he was in New Orleans all over again.

Then your voice struck his ears like lightning. He looked over towards the stage, jazz musicians playing behind you as you sang. Your h/l h/c hair bouncing as you swayed your hips to your own song.

Your boss had interrupted his train of thoughts, "Why I wouldn't have expected the radio demon to be in my club-welcome sir." He offered his hand to shake and Alastor's smile twisted as he ignored his hand. "Charming establishment you have here sir! I appreciate people who are still following the more traditional...ways." Alastor spoke his eyes wandering back to you as you danced on stage with one of the musicians.

"Say, my good man, who is that lovely dame singing?" Alastor inquired as he twirled his cane. "That'd be y/n sir, one of my finer performers." Y/n....your name twirled circles in his mind. You were gorgeous, as was your voice.

And for the first time in a while, since his mother and Rosie, he felt admiration for a woman. He spoke again, "Well I would love to meet h-" he was cut off. "2k upfront," was all the bull-built man said. Alastor's neck basically snapped as he looked at him, "Excuse me?" he said. "I don't trust any of you overlords and the last thing my performers need is the attention from one of you causing them, or me, problems. You wanna talk to her? Pay me or strike a deal sir." This bull had no class it made Alastor cackle. "Normally I'd kill you where you stand, but because I'm feeling generous about how lovely this establishment I'll let you off with a warning. Talk like that again towards me and I'll pull your guts out and serve them to your customers." His radio static backed his voice like a snarling panther. "Now about this deal, tell me what do you desire?" "Follow me we talk business in the back." The bull led Alastor away.

The bull brought her into his office, where Alastor was sitting. Her eyes widened a little, but she quickly sat down. "I was told you wanted to speak with me?" she asked. They were alone now.

EN: Hi guys so I like this idea, I was gonna make a part two, but let me know what you think!

#alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #x reader #hellaverse #alastor altruist #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader

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treethymes · 2 months

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With the exceptions of North Korea and Cuba, the communist world has merged onto the capitalist highway in a couple different ways during the twenty-first century. As you’ve read, free-trade imperialism and its cheap agricultural imports pushed farmers into the cities and into factory work, lowering the global price of manufacturing labor and glutting the world market with stuff. Forward-thinking states such as China and Vietnam invested in high-value-added production capacity and managed labor organizing, luring links from the global electronics supply chain and jump-starting capital investment. Combined with capital’s hesitancy to invest in North Atlantic production facilities, as well as a disinclination toward state-led investment in the region, Asian top-down planning erased much of the West’s technological edge. If two workers can do a single job, and one worker costs less, both in wages and state support, why pick the expensive one? Foxconn’s 2017 plan to build a U.S. taxpayer–subsidized $10 billion flat-panel display factory in Wisconsin was trumpeted by the president, but it was a fiasco that produced zero screens. The future cost of labor looks to be capped somewhere below the wage levels many people have enjoyed, and not just in the West.

The left-wing economist Joan Robinson used to tell a joke about poverty and investment, something to the effect of: The only thing worse than being exploited by capitalists is not being exploited by capitalists. It’s a cruel truism about the unipolar world, but shouldn’t second place count for something? When the Soviet project came to an end, in the early 1990s, the country had completed world history’s biggest, fastest modernization project, and that didn’t just disappear. Recall that Cisco was hyped to announce its buyout of the Evil Empire’s supercomputer team. Why wasn’t capitalist Russia able to, well, capitalize? You’re already familiar with one of the reasons: The United States absorbed a lot of human capital originally financed by the Soviet people. American immigration policy was based on draining technical talent in particular from the Second World. Sergey Brin is the best-known person in the Moscow-to-Palo-Alto pipeline, but he’s not the only one.

Look at the economic composition of China and Russia in the wake of Soviet dissolution: Both were headed toward capitalist social relations, but they took two different routes. The Russian transition happened rapidly. The state sold off public assets right away, and the natural monopolies such as telecommunications and energy were divided among a small number of skilled and connected businessmen, a category of guys lacking in a country that frowned on such characters but that grew in Gorbachev’s liberalizing perestroika era. Within five years, the country sold off an incredible 35 percent of its national wealth. Russia’s richest ended the century with a full counterrevolutionary reversal of their fortunes, propelling their income share above what it was before the Bolsheviks took over. To accomplish this, the country’s new capitalists fleeced the most vulnerable half of their society. “Over the 1989–2016 period, the top 1 percent captured more than two-thirds of the total growth in Russia,” found an international group of scholars, “while the bottom 50 percent actually saw a decline in its income.” Increases in energy prices encouraged the growth of an extractionist petro-centered economy. Blood-covered, teary, and writhing, infant Russian capital crowded into the gas and oil sectors. The small circle of oligarchs privatized unemployed KGB-trained killers to run “security,” and gangsters dominated politics at the local and national levels. They installed a not particularly well-known functionary—a former head of the new intelligence service FSB who also worked on the privatization of government assets—as president in a surprise move on the first day of the year 2000. He became the gangster in chief.

Vladimir Putin’s first term coincided with the energy boom, and billionaires gobbled up a ludicrous share of growth. If any individual oligarch got too big for his britches, Putin was not beyond imposing serious consequences. He reinserted the state into the natural monopolies, this time in collaboration with loyal capitalists, and his stranglehold on power remains tight for now, despite the outstandingly uneven distribution of growth. Between 1980 and 2015, the Russian top 1 percent grew its income an impressive 6.2 percent per year, but the top .001 percent has maintained a growth rate of 17 percent over the same period. To invest these profits, the Russian billionaires parked their money in real estate, bidding up housing prices, and stashed a large amount of their wealth offshore. Reinvestment in Russian production was not a priority—why go through the hassle when there were easier ways to keep getting richer?

While Russia grew billionaires instead of output, China saw a path to have both. As in the case of Terry Gou, the Chinese Communist Party tempered its transition by incorporating steadily increasing amounts of foreign direct investment through Hong Kong and Taiwan, picking partners and expanding outward from the special economic zones. State support for education and infrastructure combined with low wages to make the mainland too attractive to resist. (Russia’s population is stagnant, while China’s has grown quickly.) China’s entry into the World Trade Organization, in 2001, gave investors more confidence. Meanwhile, strong capital controls kept the country out of the offshore trap, and state development priorities took precedence over extraction and get-rich-quick schemes. Chinese private wealth was rechanneled into domestic financial assets—equity and bonds or other loan instruments—at a much higher rate than it was in Russia. The result has been a sustained high level of annual output growth compared to the rest of the world, the type that involves putting up an iPhone City in a matter of months. As it has everywhere else, that growth has been skewed: only an average of 4.5 percent for the bottom half of earners in the 1978–2015 period compared to more than 10 percent for the top .001 percent. But this ratio of just over 2–1 is incomparable to Russia’s 17–.5 ration during the same period.

Since the beginning of the twenty-first century, certain trends have been more or less unavoidable. The rich have gotten richer relative to the poor and working class—in Russia, in China, in the United States, and pretty much anywhere else you want to look. Capital has piled into property markets, driving up the cost of housing everywhere people want to live, especially in higher-wage cities and especially in the world’s financial centers. Capitalist and communist countries alike have disgorged public assets into private pockets. But by maintaining a level of control over the process and slowing its tendencies, the People’s Republic of China has built a massive and expanding postindustrial manufacturing base.

It’s important to understand both of these patterns as part of the same global system rather than as two opposed regimes. One might imagine, based on what I’ve written so far, that the Chinese model is useful, albeit perhaps threatening, in the long term for American tech companies while the Russian model is irrelevant. Some commentators have phrased this as the dilemma of middle-wage countries on the global market: Wages in China are going to be higher than wages in Russia because wages in Russia used to be higher than wages in China. But Russia’s counterrevolutionary hyper-bifurcation has been useful for Silicon Valley as well; they are two sides of the same coin. Think about it this way: If you’re a Russian billionaire in the first decades of the twenty-first century looking to invest a bunch of money you pulled out of the ground, where’s the best place you could put it? The answer is Palo Alto.

Malcolm Harris, Palo Alto

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sattlersquarry · 5 months

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superfreaky (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: [AU inspired by Freaky (2020); modern body-swap-with-a-slasher AU] The Hawkins Hacker has been terrorizing your town for years now. What happens when he digs his hooks into you is surprising. It's shocking. It's downright superfreaky.

Word Count: ~7.3k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, violence, grief, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of death and serial killers/slashers. all the characters are at least 18 in this (and Steve is the same age as the others). There's no descriptors of the reader except when she and Henry Creel swap bodies (then, you're Jamie Campbell Bower). Also Officer Callahan is your stepbrother in this.

a/n: this is a halloween fic. I'm aware that it's mid-November and everyone on this website has moved onto winter/holiday fics. I'm late! I'm sorry! Blame depression/personal life weirdness/my horoscope.

🔪🔪🔪

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 12th, 2023

Your life kind of sucks.

Just a little.

Currently, you’re dressed in a godawful tiger suit on a Thursday night, shaking your clip-on tiger tail like there’s no tomorrow. You don’t want to be here, but extracurriculars look great on college applications. If you want to get far, far away from Hawkins, Indiana after graduation, this is the kind of shit you have to do to be impressive on paper.

Plus, someone must be the brave soul that dons the Hawkins High school mascot costume on the sidelines of basketball games. The brave soul that gets soda cans chucked at your head by Billy Hargrove.

You turn and scowl when you feel the liquid splash across your back—not that Billy can see through your stitched-on tiger expression.

He and his buddies laugh and laugh, until team captain Steve Harrington chews them out for being assholes. You can’t help it—you inwardly swoon at the sight of him defending your honor. With that floppy hair and those gorgeous eyes and…

You snap yourself out of your wild, romantically charged fantasies about said basketball player when he jogs his way toward you.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” he asks quietly. You lift your mascot head and give him a small smile.

“I’m good,” you say. You shrug. “I’m used to it.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m really sorry. I told Hargrove to cut it out when you threw the nachos last week, but he just doesn’t know when to quit.”

The Tiger cheerleaders begin the school fight song.

“I’ve gotta get back into it,” you say. “But, um, thanks.”

“Anytime,” Steve says. He shoots you a smile before jogging back to his teammates. The timeout is over, and he steps back onto the court.

As you flail around next to the cheerleaders, the Tigers sink a three-pointer thanks to Steve and win the game.

Post-game, you shuffle into the parking lot with your best friends Robin Buckley and Jonathan Byers by your side. Jonathan works for the school paper and photographs the games while his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, interviews players and attendees on the sidelines. Robin is in band and plays the trumpet. (Sometimes, you wish you’d followed their extracurricular pathways instead of going the mascot route.)

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Robin points out, sensing your disdain as you glare at the tiger head in your hands and the oversize, fuzzy orange slippers adorning your feet.

“I do!” you say. “It’s senior year, fall semester. I can’t flake now. It’ll look bad on my applications.”

“You and those applications,” Jonathan says with a shake of his head. “You’ve been worrying about them since we were freshmen.”

“Obviously! They’re my ticket out of this town. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Robin and Jonathan share a look. They know what you’re referring to: the Hawkins Hacker.

The Hacker is the town's own slasher. He claimed victims every year around homecoming for years and years, until 2016, when he suddenly stopped. However, just last night he killed again. The whole town—including your stepbrother Phil, who’s a cop—are on edge.

“Do you need a ride home?” Jonathan asks, spinning his car keys in his hand.

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “My stepmom’s on her way. And there are plenty of people around. I’m totally safe!”

Famous last words.

Literally. (Almost.)

“You sure?” Robin questions. “Because he’s taking me and Nancy home too, but he’s got an extra seat!”

“I’m good,” you say. You hold up your cell phone. “She texted me an hour ago to say she’d get me on time. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

Your friends look a little worried, but you wave them off. Game attendees meander out of the school and head to their cars. It’s a sea of people. You’re fine.

However, the minutes tick by, and the crowd thins out. You watch the away team hop a school bus and zip back to their hometown. You feel the temperature of your tiger suit inch up a few degrees when you see Steve wander to his BMW with a couple teammates in tow.

It’s considerably quieter than it was when you first left the game. You text your stepmom LeAnn once, twice. Then you call her once, twice, three times. A third text, a fourth call. Nothing. Radio silence.

By now, it’s dead quiet. Everyone is gone. You feel an icy chill zip down your spine, like you’re being watched…

You miss your father. He died about a year ago, and he was always on time.

You startle when the phone in your hand buzzes. It’s your stepbrother Phil.

“Hey!” you say. “Where’s LeAnn?”

“Passed out again,” Phil says with a beleaguered sigh. “Where are you? Did Jonathan give you a ride home?”

“No, I told him your mom was coming to get me,” you say. “Can you—”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

You pull the phone away from your ear and groan. It’s dead. Just great.

A streetlight across the parking lot flickers. When your eyes adjust, your heart drops through your stupid mascot feet and to the center of the earth: there’s a man watching you.

You can’t tell, but it looks like he’s wearing a mask. You gulp, panic stretching itself through every fiber of your being.

“Please don’t be the Hawkins Hacker,” you mumble to yourself. “Please don’t be the Hacker. Please don’t be the Hacker.”

The Man continues to stare. Something glints in his hand. It frightens you.

“My stepbrother is on his way!” you yell, hoping to scare him off. “He’s a cop. With a gun.”

That doesn’t seem to bother the man at all. In fact, you see him walk toward you—a slow, Michael-Meyers-esque stride that has you shrieking in fear and stumbling to the school doors.

You yank at them to no avail. You don’t bother looking back and instead run around the school building to the football field. Panting from exertion and sheer fear, you duck under the bleachers and hide behind a big banner.

You slap a hand over your mouth to quiet your panicked whimpers. Why oh why did you trust LeAnn to get you on time, when every night for the past month she’s drank a whole bottle of chardonnay at 6 p.m. and passed out? Why didn’t you go with Jonathan when he offered? Hell, why didn’t you ask Steve for a ride? He’s a nice guy! He would’ve done it!

Now, you’re hiding from a slasher in a stupid rubber gray mask. And if you die and come back as a ghost, you’ll be wearing the Hawkins High mascot suit for all eternity.

You watch the Hackers’ feet as he stands in front of the bleachers and listen as he steps on them. He seems to think you’ve left, and you hear him wander off.

Or, so you think. Actually, he sneaks up behind you and grabs your leg, yanking you out from your hiding place.

You scream and kick at him, hitting him right in the nose and giving you the chance to run.

You don’t get far, though. He tackles you somewhere around the fifty-yard line.

“No! No!” you scream as he raises the knife above you. The knife has a spider carved in the handle with red ruby eyes. “Please! No!”

You push at him, knocking his mask off. His face is gaunt: all sallow cheekbones and purple under-eye bags. His eyes are a dull, washed-out blue, and his blonde hair is scraggly and unwashed.

You hate that his face is the last face you’ll ever see.

He plunges the dagger into your shoulder just a few inches shy of your heart and you scream in pain, the bloodcurdling sound echoing across the football field. The Hacker hisses in pain and drops the knife. He touches his shoulder and looks angry at the sight of blood on his fingertips.

His blood. From the wound that appeared on his shoulder after he stabbed you in the same spot.

Bang! Bang!

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Phil roars from across the football stadium, gun raised in the air.

The Hacker stumbles to his feet and ambles off. Still prone on the ground, you turn on your stomach and watch him go, shocked at what you witnessed. How did he get stabbed?

You’re in so much shock, you don’t even realize that Phil is by your side until he gently helps you sit up.

“You’re okay!” he says, voice tinged with an urgency you’ve never heard from him before. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

“It hurt him too,” you mutter, a bit delirious. “It hurt him too!”

“Try to stay calm, okay?” Phil says. “You’re in shock. I got you, Y/N.”

You hear him bark into his radio: “This is Officer Callahan! Send an RA unit to the Hawkins High football field! My stepsisters’ been stabbed!”

The rest of your evening is a blur. You get patched up by paramedics and then taken to the police station to give a statement.

LeAnn arrives as you’re sitting with the sketch artist, crying and screaming and apologizing a million times. You forgive her (even though you aren’t sure you want to), and later that night, you hear Phil chewing her out for drinking and forgetting you again.

“She could’ve died, Mom!” you hear him yell as you lie in bed and try to sleep. “If I had been just a minute too late, we would’ve lost her and Allen in the span of 11 months!”

“I’m sorry!” LeAnn sobs. “I just had one glass—”

“One glass, Mom?! Try the whole bottle!”

Despite your anger at her, your heart breaks for LeAnn. You know your dad’s death has been hard on her. She hasn’t been doing too well since he passed, but sometimes you wish she’d realize you weren’t doing that great either. Phil tries to comfort you both, but he’s so busy with work, his pep talks are usually thirty seconds long between bites of a bagel before he’s rushing off to save Hawkins again.

Your phone blows up with texts and DMs. Somehow, the kids at school found out what happened and won’t stop messaging you for details on your encounter with the Hacker. You can’t deal with it. Except, there are some messages that you do respond to:

---

Text Thread with BOBBIN and JONNY B GOOD

BOBBIN: Oh my God!!! Y/N are you okay??? Please text back!!!

JONNY B GOOD: We saw what happened on the news. Please text us when you have a chance. We’re worried about you and thinking of you rn.

BOBBIN: WE’RE FREAKING OUT!!! ARE YOU OKAY???

JONNY B GOOD: Robin, just chill. She’s probably resting.

BOBBIN: Please don’t die and leave me alone to third wheel Nancy and Jonathan!!

JONNY B GOOD: Wooooow.

YOU: Wow is right. I got stabbed and those are your priorities?

BOBBIN: SHE LIVES!!!! YEAHHHHHHH!!!

YOU: Yep, I’m alive. I’m really sorry but I feel like shit. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?

JONNY B GOOD: Of course. We’re here when you need us.

BOBBIN: WE LOVE YOU <3

YOU: <3

---

DMs from steve.anthony.h83

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Hey Y/N I saw the news I rly hope ur OK

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Hi Steve, thank you for reaching out. It means a lot to me. I’m not feeling too good right now.

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Im sry to here that that sux 😞😢💔

---

God, even his text message typos and cheesy emoji usage are endearing. You’re in too deep with this crush.

---

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Yeah. But I think I’ll be okay.

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Anything I can do 2 help? Maybe I can get u smtg, wats ur fav candy?

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Oh, that’s sweet, but you don’t have to do that!

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): I want too 😃 do u like nougat

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): I love nougat!

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Perfect 😃 Ill bring u sum tmrw after school 🍫

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Thank you, Steve ❤️

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Feel better Y/N 😃😃

You go to sleep, shaken up but in slightly higher spirits thanks to your conversation with Steve.

🔪🔪🔪

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 13th, 2023

You blink awake hours later, startled at the sight around you.

You aren’t in your room. You’re lying on a mattress on a concrete floor. The room around you is full of weird stuff: grandfather clocks, paintings upon paintings of black widow spiders, and mannequins with nails in their faces like Pinhead.

“What the hell!” you say. You gasp and clutch your neck. “Why is my voice so deep?!”

You stagger to your feet and look around the creepy space. Why are you further from the floor than usual? In the corner, you see a mirror half-covered with a sheet. You yank it off and gasp.

“AHHHH! IT’S THE HAWKINS HACKER!” you scream.

The Hacker screams as well. You reach your hand toward the glass—and the Hacker reaches his hand toward it as well. You pull it away and so does he.

The you in the reflection is the Hacker. Holy shit.

You realize where you are: the old mill. Phil told you to stay away from this place because it’s where drug deals go down, and where Eleanor Gillespie got attacked by birds that one time.

You rush away before you can freak out too much. You head downtown, mind swirling.

This must just be a nightmare. Right? A really, really realistic, terrifying lucid dream.

But when you hit your head on a tree branch (because you’re way, way taller than you used to be) and it actually hurts, you realize it’s not a dream. You’re really the Hawkins Hacker. Somehow, you’ve swapped bodies with a homicidal maniac.

You need to find Phil. He’s been your stepbrother for a decade now and you trust him more than anyone else. He might be able to know what to do—or just be a shoulder to cry on.

You pass an electronics store, and your heart sinks when you see your face—the Hackers’ face—on TV.

“The Hawkins Hacker has been identified as Henry Creel,” the news anchor says, showing a photo of the face that you are unfortunately saddled with now. “He’s most known for killing his mother, father, and sister as a teenager—and also for driving a Jeep Wrangler through a Dairy Queen drive-through window without a license.”

“Hey!” someone shouts nearby, having connected the dots. “You’re the killer guy from TV!”

You don’t even stop to see who’s yelling at you before you run as fast as you can, ducking through alleyways to lose whoever’s chasing you.

You can’t go to the police station now that your face is plastered all over the news and social media. But you need an ally, or allies.

Besides Phil, the people you trust the most are Robin and Jonathan. You sneak into Hawkins High through the gymnasium doors, wishing you had your mascot head to hide under. Then, you take a quick shower in the locker rooms and hide until class change is done.

You slink through the empty hallways and make it to the school’s auditorium. That’s where you, Robin, and Jonathan spend study hall every day.

You open the door to the theater as quiet as a mouse, hiding in the wings for a moment when you overhear them talking about you.

“I hope Y/N’s doing okay,” Robin says with a sigh. She takes a bite of an apple and says through chews, “Why did she blow us off earlier?”

“Give her a break, Rob,” Jonathan says. “She’s probably really shaken up. But it is weird that she even came to school anyway. I wonder—”

“Guys!” you say, stepping onto the stage. “It’s me! Don’t freak out.”

They immediately freak out.

“AHHHHH!!! THE HACKER!!!” Robin screams. She chucks an apple core at your head and it bounces between your eyes. You stumble back and groan.

“COME ON!” Jonathan says, grabbing her hand and dragging her away from your, fear flashing in both of their eyes.

“Wait!” you shout. “Come back!”

You follow them as they run through the hallways and end up in the school cafeteria’s kitchen. A lunch lady shrieks and runs out when she sees you.

“Stop!” you call, following Robin and Jonathan to the back room. “Wait! Please just hear me out.”

Jonathan snatches up a soup ladle and hits you in the spine with it.

“ARGH! Dude, stop!”

Robin grabs a tray of mozzarella sticks and lifts it above her head. The sticks go flying when she whacks you in the head. Repeatedly.

Angry that they won’t stop hitting you, you yank the tray out of Robin’s hand and toss it away. Your newfound strength the body you’ve found yourself in possesses surprises you. The old you would’ve grappled with Robin a lot longer before getting the tray from her, if you even got it at all.

Robin tries to jump on your back piggyback-style to tackle you to the ground, and you elbow her in the stomach.

“Cut that out!” you bark as she wheezes.

Jonathan hits you again with the ladle and you shove his shoulder, a bit too hard. He falls on his butt and winces.

“Enough!” you say. “We’ve hit each other over and over. Can we agree we’re all tired and end this?!”

“No!” Jonathan says, pulling himself back to his feet by gripping a countertop. “You attacked our friend and now you’re attacking us!”

“I’m not attacking you!” you say. “I’m trying to get you to listen. I am not Henry Creel. I am not the Hawkins Hacker. I’M Y/N! YOUR FRIEND Y/N Y/L/N!”

“As if!” Robin scoffs. “I’m calling 911.”

You snatch the phone from her hands and hold it high above your head. She’s tall, but not tall enough to reach it thanks to your longer arms.

“I promise!” you beg, holding your other arm up in surrender. “It’s me. It’s Y/N!”

“Yeah, right!” Jonathan says darkly. He picks up the ladle again, wielding it like a lethal weapon. “Tell us something only Y/N would know or we’re going to the cops.”

“What’s Y/N’s favorite movie?” Robin asks, eyes narrowed.

“I tell everyone it’s Casablanca but it’s The Muppets Take Manhattan!”

“Favorite candy?” Jonathan demands.

“Three Musketeers because I feel guilty that everyone shits on nougat when it’s really not that bad!”

“Who’s Y/N’s biggest crush?” Robin asks.

The face that’s not yours blushes deeply.

“Duh,” you say. “It’s Steve the Hair Harrington.”

Jonathan and Robin share a look. A sense of realization flashes on their faces.

“Handshake?” you offer. You hand Robin her phone back and hold out your hands—or, Henry Creel’s hands—and wait.

Robin and Jonathan slap you five, before the three of you complete the intricate handshake you made up in seventh grade.

“Holy shit!” Robin shrieks, eyes shining. “You’re really Y/N!”

She pulls you and Jonathan in for a group hug and you laugh.

“Oh, thank god,” you say. “If you didn’t believe me, I don’t know what I’d—"

“Hold on,” Jonathan says, pulling out of the hug. “If you’re actually Y/N, that means the Hawkins Hacker is going around school wearing your face!”

“Oh damn,” Robin says. “Is that why you look hot today?”

“What do you mean I look hot?” you say, trying not to take offense to the implication that you don’t look hot every day.

Robin opens Instagram and shows you a photo posted to the student-run Hawkins High Gossip Instagram page. It’s a blurry photo of you (or Henry Creel in your body) walking in the hall past Billy and his asshole friends, who are checking you out. Instead of your usual mousy wardrobe of flowy skirts and cardigans, you’re wearing a tight black tank top, a red leather jacket, and bright red lipstick.

“Hot damn!” you blurt out. “I do look hot! Shit, have I hurt anyone? Or, has he hurt anyone?”

Jonathan grimaces.

“Tommy H. was found unconscious in the chem lab,” he says. “He was mostly fine, except his eyebrows were burned clean off…”

“But if fake-you did that,” Robin says quickly, “you aren’t liable because you weren’t in control of your body!”

“I don’t even know how we body-swapped in the first place!” you lament. “How do I get control of my body back?!”

“Let’s think about this,” Jonathan says. “Maybe it was some kind…spell? Or enchantment?”

“Enchantment?!” you snap. “Dude, be for real!”

“Wait,” Robin says, eyes shining. “I heard about this!”

She opened the internet app on her phone and went to www,theweeklywatcher,com/body-swap.

“No fucking way,” you say. “The Weekly Watcher is not a refutable source!”

“Why not?!” she says, scrolling ferociously until— “Ah! Found it.”

She shows you an article about the mythology of body swapping. At first, you roll your eyes, but then—

“That knife!” you gasp. “That’s the knife he had!”

You point to the photo, featuring the ruby-eyed spider in the knife handle.

“According to this,” Jonathan says, “that knife is an artifact that was used in ancient rituals."

“If you’re struck with the blade when the clock strikes midnight,” Robin reads, “you and your attacker switch places. And you have 24 hours to stab him and switch back.”

“No, no, no!” you groan. “That means we only have 12 hours left!”

“That’s plenty of time,” Jonathan says. “Where’s the knife? You have it, right?”

“No!” you say. “Phil took it as evidence.”

“So we’ll just steal it from the police station,” Robin says, as if it’s easy and obvious.

“Oh, sure,” you lament. “We’ll just waltz into the police station while I have the face and body of a mass murderer and steal evidence. Easy-peasy!”

“We’ll figure something out,” Jonathan says. “Come on.”

The three of you head toward the exit and end up walking past the woodshop classroom. You do a double-take and watch yourself enter the hallway. Or, you watch the Hawkins Hacker parade around as you.

“Hey, stop!” you shout at Henry Creel. He pauses and turns. A shiver runs down your spine at the dark, evil look gracing your features. Features you’ve seen your whole life, features you’ve struggled to like after years of taunting and bullying. Now, they’re marred with the evil spirit of the Hawkins Hacker.

Yet, goddamn. You look hot with red lipstick. Who knew slashers had good fashion sense?

“Don’t try to run,” Jonathan says, the waver in his voice indicating that his bravery is false. “We’ve got you cornered.”

The Hacker suddenly changes expressions. Instead of a nasty glare, he opens his eyes wide, covers his cheeks with his hands, and shrieks: “AHHHH! IT’S THE HAWKINS HACKER! GET HIM!”

A couple cops run around the corner of the hall and you curse, rushing toward a side door with Robin and Jonathan in tow.

“GET YOUR KEYS!” you yell. “We have to get out of here or I’m headed to jail forever!”

Jonathan struggles to start his car, but he peels away just before the cops can stop you all. After your first-ever police chase, you three lose your tail in the parking lot of the big-box store LeAnn works at.

You hide out in a changing room while Jonathan and Robin find you a disguise—a plastic Halloween mask of Bill Clinton’s face.

“I can’t see or breathe in this thing,” you grumble as your friends lead you back to the car.

“If you get arrested,” Robin points out, “you won’t be able to switch back.”

You bite your tongue from any further complaints, too worried about just that.

“So, what’s the plan?” Jonathan asks, once you all are back in his car. “How can we get the knife?”

“About that,” Robin says. “I think we need to bring in your stepbrother.”

“If Phil doesn't believe us, we're in big trouble!” you protest.

“He’s an ally!” Robin shoots back. “And we need one if we’re going to…oh shit.”

She holds up her phone screen for you and Jonathan to see. You squint through the eye holes of your uncomfortable mask and gasp when you realize what’s going on.

“Fuck!” you groan. “What the hell is he doing?!”

It’s another post from the school gossip Insta. The Hawkins Hacker is schmoozing with Billy and his clique of jerks at the local indoor mini-golf place. You watch in the video as he leans into Billy’s ear and whispers something before sauntering off.

The caption of the post says, “OMG is Y/N Y/L/N like, hot now?!”

“I resent this!” you snap. “Why is everyone under the impression that I’m not hot all the time?!”

“No, no, no!” Jonathan gasps. “Look!”

At the tail end of the video, you see Nancy and Steve follow Henry Creel into the glow-in-the-dark golf course.

“They’re going to get killed!” he says, turning the ignition in his car with shaking hands and reversing haphazardly, almost taking out a mulberry bush as he speeds toward the golf place. “Robin, call Nancy now.”

“She’s not picking up!” Robin says, phone to her ear. “I’ll text!”

Your stomach churns with anxiety. If the Hacker kills Nancy and Steve while he’s in your body and you switch back, you’ll feel guilty forever. You’ll also go to jail. But if you don’t switch back, you’ll go to jail as Henry! This is all too much.

You’re certain the pale face that doesn’t belong to you is green right now as Jonathan drives like a racecar driver to save his girlfriend and your crush from “your” wrath.

🔪🔪🔪

Steve’s not sure what’s gotten into you today.

First, you showed up to school. That was surprising after your attack.

“Hey!” he had said when you walked into woodshop class. “How you feeling?”

You hadn’t responded, but you had looked quite intrigued when he accidentally cut his finger working on his birdhouse.

“Ah, shit,” he’d grumbled. “Do you have a—”

You leaned over and licked the blood clean off his finger. It startled him—and annoyed him when that freak Eddie Munson mumbled, “Whoa, that’s hot,” from across the worktable.

Steve’s cheeks glowed rosy red, flustered at your boldness. But you’d left class before he could do or say anything about it (or give you the candy he brought for you).

And now, after school, you’re standing with Billy and whispering salacious things into his ear. Since when do you like Billy? Billy, the guy that throws things at you? Billy, the guy that wrote “Y/N Y/L/N is an ugly stupid bitch” on the bathroom stalls? Billy, the guy that didn’t give you the time of day until you dressed differently?!

Why doesn’t she like me?! Steve thought, trying to look unaffected as you continued flirting with Billy. He fails, the wrinkle between his brows getting deeper as you continue talking to Billy in a low voice.

“Steve,” Nancy says urgently, rushing up to him. “We need to talk.”

“Can it wait?” Steve says. He crosses his arms. “I don’t want to do anything right now except sulk.”

“Something’s really, really wrong,” Nancy continues, ignoring Steve’s pity party. “Jonathan’s MIA and isn’t messaging me back. And neither is Robin. And Carol claims she saw them earlier get in Jonathan’s car with a tall, blond weirdo.”

“So, maybe they have a new friend,” Steve says. He squeezes the handle of his mini-golf putter and watches you walk toward the glow-in-the-dark course. “I need to go talk to Y/N.”

“No!” Nancy hisses, following him as they cut through the crowds. She tucks her phone deep in her purse. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The Hawkins Hacker is a tall, blond weirdo. Carol didn’t get a good look, but—”

“But you think your boyfriend and Robin are rubbing elbows with a killer? Nance, that’s bullshit.”

“It’s not!” she snaps. “I think that, somehow, that tall blond weirdo is actually Y/N and that girl that you’re going to go talk to is the Hacker.”

“That makes no goddamn sense,” Steve says. “Body-swapping isn’t possible.”

“Just listen to me! I was reading an article in The Weekly Watcher…”

Nancy follows Steve into the course, whispering her findings and bringing up Y/N’s odd behavior as they navigate the dark room lit up with black lights.

The more he listens, the more it makes sense. You’re not acting like yourself. But it still seems too far-fetched.

“I don’t know, Nance,” Steve says, scanning the room for you. “I think you need to stop listening to Robin so much.”

Swish! The beaded curtain leading into the next section of the course rattles as Henry Creel barrels through.

“Nancy! Steve!” he yells. “Watch out!”

Henry pushes them to the side and grabs Y/N’s hand—huh, when did you sneak up behind Steve and Nancy? The Hacker twists your wrist and you cry out.

“Y/N!” Steve shouts, rushing forward to protect you. Before he can, Jonathan and Robin grab his arms.

“No, no, let them fight!” Robin says.

“Let go of me!” Steve snaps.

He watches, helpless, as the Hawkins Hacker punches you between the eyes and you crumple like sand.

“Whoa, cool!” Henry Creel says, turning around and facing the four teens with an excited glimmer in his eye. “I’ve never knocked someone out with one punch before.”

“Wait!” Nancy says. “Am I right?”

“Right about what?” Jonathan asks.

“Did Henry and Y/N…switch bodies?”

Henry (or, Y/N?) puts his hands on his hips.

“Girl, how did you know?”

It all becomes too much for Steve. He blacks out.

🔪🔪🔪

When Steve wakes, he’s lying on the Byers’ couch. Henry Creel sits on a kitchen chair next to him.

Steve opens his mouth to scream.

“Wait!” Henry says. “Steve, don’t freak out. It’s me! I know I look like the Hacker, but it’s Y/N!”

Across the room, the person that looks like you is tied to another kitchen chair.

“Steve, don’t listen to him!” Y/N laments. “He’s crazy! He brainwashed these three idiots into working for him!”

“Who are you calling idiot, idiot?” Robin snaps.

“Steve, I was right,” Nancy explains patiently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Y/N and Henry Creel have switched places.”

“No!” the tied-up Y/N shrieks. “Please! Steve, look at me.”

Steve turns his head toward her.

“No!” Henry says. “Look at me, Steve.”

Steve turns back toward the Hacker/potential real you.

“Steve!” the tied-up Y/N groans, trying to sound in distress but actually moaning like a Bridgerton reject. “Steve! Steeeeeeeve!”

“Oh, dry up, bitch!” Robin snaps.

“Jesus Christ, Robin!” Henry says. “Don’t talk to him like that when he’s got my face. That’s rude.”

“This is all too much,” Steve says, jumping to his feet. “I—I can’t be here.”

He darts toward the door, but before he can exit the Byers house, Henry stands and says, “We danced together at our freshman year Snow Ball!”

Steve pauses with his hand on the door handle.

“It was in the parking lot,” Henry continues. “You were vaping and I was leaving early, because truthfully, I was having a terrible time. But I saw you, and you saw me, and we split a snowflake-shaped sugar cookie and talked for, like, half an hour. And then someone propped the doors open and we could hear the DJ, and he was playing that creepy ’80s song about always watching someone, and we ragged on the lyrics for being weird and stalker-y. But you asked me if I wanted to dance, and we did for half a minute, and then my dad came to pick me up and I left. But that was the most fun I had had all semester and it gave me a fat, embarrassing crush on you. And I really, really wish I wasn’t a total coward, or I would’ve told you way sooner than our senior year—and when I wasn’t in the body of a serial killer.”

Steve watches the way Henry nervously wrings his hands—he recognizes it as a habit of yours. For a long minute, he’s not sure what to think.

🔪🔪🔪

For a long minute, you’re not sure what to think.

You just blurted out your secret crush on Steve Harrington to Steve Harrington, and he’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand you.

But then, he gives you a small smile.

“Maybe this is weird to say while you’re in the body of a serial killer,” Steve says, “but I have a fat, embarrassing crush on you, too.”

Your heart soars.

“Pathetic,” the fake-you/the Hacker grumbles. “You’re both cowards. I can’t wait to gut you like a fish.”

“That’s enough!” Nancy says sharply, shoving a sock into the Hacker’s mouth. He glares up at her with your face, but Nancy doesn’t even flinch.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Jonathan says, “let’s divide and conquer. I’ll stay here to keep an eye on murder Barbie.”

He nods in the direction of the scowling, incapacitated Hacker.

“And I’ll drive the rest of us to the police station,” Nancy says. “Y/N, you’ll stay in the car while we distract your stepbrother and steal that knife back. He should be the only one working, because everyone else is hunting you. Er, Henry.”

“Knife?” Steve asks. “What knife?”

“It’s a spooky, magic dagger and it’s the reason Y/N and Henry Creel are swapped!” Robin says.

Steve blinks once, twice.

“Right. Totally. That makes sense.”

“Let’s go!” you say. “We have four more hours to do this!”

🔪🔪🔪

While Nancy and Robin go to get the knife, you and Steve wait in the car.

It’s a little awkward, due to the circumstances. When you imagined sitting in the backseat of a car with Steve Harrington, you hoped for something a little more amorous. Not you in the body of the Hawkins Hacker.

You start to feel a little brave and even consider reaching for his hand to hold—when you see the fake you running down the sidewalk and into the station.

“What?!” you say. “How’d he get out?!”

“Shit,” Steve says. “You stay out of sight, I’ll try and stop him.”

“No!” you say. “My stepbrother’s in there! I have to go help. You stay here and call Jonathan! Make sure he’s okay.”

Steve frowns but nods, agreeing to stay behind.

When you bolt into the police station, you see Phil with his hand on his holster, glaring at Robin and Nancy. Fake you feigns a frightened gasp and runs behind him when you enter, and Phil pulls his gun and points it at you. You throw your hands up.

“Don’t shoot!” you squeak.

“Kill him!” Henry says from his hiding spot.

“Don’t! Stop!” Robin and Nancy shout.

You see the spider dagger on the ground by your friends’ feet. Before you can try and grab it, Henry does and runs out of the station.

Phil doesn’t even give him a second look.

“Put your hands behind your head,” he says to you, “and walk slowly into the cell.”

“This is a mistake!” you protest, but following his instructions so you don’t get pumped with lead.

“Please, Officer Callahan,” Robin begs.

“We’re telling the truth,” Nancy says, “just—”

“Quiet, you two!” he barks. “You! Keep walking.”

You gulp and step into the cell.

“Do you remember what I got you for Christmas in 2017?” you ask.

“Shut up,” Phil says. You glance behind. He still has the gun pointed at your back, but you see his hands shaking. And his finger’s not on the trigger.

“It was a pack of limited-edition Pokémon cards,” you continue. “Mint condition. With a holographic Charizard. But I didn’t realize I ordered a rip-off pack called Pokeymans, so it was actually a Chumpizard card.”

“How the fuck do you know that?!” Phil demands, voice shaking in tandem with his hands.

“Because I’m not the Hawkins Hacker!” you say. “I’m really Y/N. And…I’m sorry about this.”

With Henry Creel’s strength, you knock the gun out of Phil’s hands. It skitters across the floor, and you yank him by the arm into the cell.

He stumbles against the back wall and you step out, closing the door and locking him inside.

“HEY!” Phil screams, yanking at the bars. “LET ME OUT!”

“I’m so sorry!” you say. “But it’s really me. I have to hunt that bitch down and stab him with the stolen dagger and then our bodies will switch back and things will be normal again!”

“STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!” Phil roars, evidently not buying into the body-swap story.

Touched, you clasp your hands to your chest.

“Wait, you called me your sister!” you say. “Not stepsister! That’s so sweet. You’re my brother, Phil. And I’m going to make things right.”

Phil furrows his brow, confused, as you run out with Nancy and Robin in tow.

Jonathan and Steve meet you three out front.

“Your brother can’t drive for shit!” Steve says. “He just almost ran us over with his squad car.” “That wasn’t Phil!” you say. “It was Henry! He stole his cop car. But why? Where the fuck is he going?”

“Earlier this evening,” Nancy says urgently, “I heard you—uh, him—tell Billy that they should throw a homecoming party at the old mill, since they canceled the real dance.”

“That’s where he lives!" you say. "His homebase. It’s where I woke up this morning.”

“It’s his hunting ground,” Robin says darkly. “No doubt he’ll be killing teens left and right.”

“We have to stop him,” Jonathan says.

“No shit, Byers!” Steve says. “Let’s go!”

🔪🔪🔪

When you arrive at the mill, your group agrees to split up.

“Wait!” Steve says, before you dart off. “Hold out your arm.”

You hesitate and do as he says. He attaches his watch to your wrist.

“I always have it set for five minutes ahead,” Steve explains. “So I’m not late to stuff. So we have 30 minutes to find the Hacker, get the knife, and do the switch.”

“Everyone keep your phones close,” Jonathan says. “Move out!”

You divide and conquer, searching the party of wild, drunk teenagers for the evil man wearing your face. Eventually, you find him in an empty back room — towering over an unconscious Billy with an axe in hand, ready to whack the bully in the skull.

“WAIT!” you yell. “STOP!”

The Hacker freezes and turns, giving you an evil smile. You see the hilt of the magical dagger shining in a sheath attached to his belt.

“It’s you again,” he spits.

“Yes, hi,” you say. “It’s me. And I’m going to ask you to put the axe down before I make you.”

The Hacker cackles.

“Really?” he says. “Even in your pathetic, puny body, I could overpower you in half a second. Plus, this jerk makes your life hell. Don’t you want me to finish him off?”

“No!” you snap. “Because I’m not a monster like you!”

You notice Jonathan in a doorframe behind the Hacker, staying out of his eyeline.

“What’s your problem, man?” you ask, hoping to distract him so Jonathan can take him by surprise. “Why do you kill people?”

“Do you really want to know why?” Henry asks. You nod.

“Well, guess what: there’s no reason. None at all. I kill people because I think it’s fun!”

“You’re sick,” you mutter.

He grins evilly.

“And you’re my next vict—Argh!”

Jonathan interrupts the Hacker’s evil spiel by hitting him in the back of the skull with a fire extinguisher. The murderer crumples to the ground, the axe flying out of his reach.

He doesn’t stay down for long. Thankfully, you’re able to tackle him and snatch the magical knife into your hand.

You raise it above your head, and—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You gasp and look at Steve’s watch. The timer is done. You’re out of time.

The Hacker laughs and laughs and laughs.

“Shit,” you say, tears of anger and despair welling up in your eyes. “Shit! I’m stuck like this!”

“I win!” the Hacker cackles. “You’ll be tossed in jail, and I’ll be free to keep killing. I think I'll stab your little boyfriend Steve next.”

You’re about to drop the dagger and run, unsure of where to go or what to do, when Jonathan says: “Wait, the clock tower!”

You whip your head over to look at him, brow furrowed.

“The clock tower in the library!” Jonathan continues. “It’s not going off! You still have time!”

Puzzle pieces fall into place.

“Steve sets his watch five minutes ahead,” you say, glancing at your wrist.

Henry Creel’s eyes widen, and then you plunge the dagger into his shoulder.

You feel strange, like you’re floating in the air. Then, suddenly, both you and the Hacker are thrown backward.

When you hazily blink and sit up, you see the Hacker doing the same.

“It worked!” you say, face splitting into a grin.

The Hacker glares at you. You feel a chill down your spine. But before he can do or say anything, your brother swoops in with his gun raised.

“Hands where I can see them!” Phil yells. The Hacker grumbles but obeys. You and Jonathan skirt away from him as Phil slaps handcuffs on the killer and drags him into a squad car.

“Y/N!” Robin shouts, running over with Nancy and Steve in tow. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m okay,” you say. You wince and grip your shoulder. “Except I reopened my shoulder wound, and I think I’m going to have really, really freaky dreams every night for the rest of my life.”

Phil races back over once his colleagues have Henry Creel in custody, fussing over you like a mother (brother) hen. You find yourself seated in the back of an ambulance with a freshly bandaged shoulder.

After Phil steps away to debrief Chief Hopper on the arrest (and to lock the magical dagger away once and for all), Steve wanders over.

“Can I sit here?” he asks, gesturing vaguely next to you on the back bumper of the ambulance. You nod and scoot over.

“How’s your arm?” Steve asks.

“It’s mine again,” you say, “so it feels amazing, despite the stab wound.”

“I’m definitely glad to see you as yourself again,” Steve says, cheeks flushing pink. He looks down at his fidgeting hands, the epitome of bashful, when he adds, “Actually, now that you’re yourself again, I was going to ask if you wanted to go on a date with me sometime.”

Your insides melt.

“Really?” you practically squeal, trying not to sound too eager. “Ah, I mean. That would be cool, or whatever.”

Before you can convince yourself not to, you give Steve a quick kiss on the cheek. He beams at you, but you both roll your eyes when you hear Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy hoot and holler from a few yards away.

Everything will be fine, now. You’ll be fine. That’s what you tell yourself when Phil drives you home and LeAnn gives you a million hugs and says how happy she is that you’re okay. That’s what you tell yourself when you fall asleep after having a lovely text conversation with Steve. That’s what you tell yourself when you have nightmares about being stuck as the Hacker forever, nightmares where he escapes jail and kills you (and everyone you love) once and for all.

But you tell yourself it’s fine, that you’re fine. That nothing is wrong, despite the chill down your spine that can’t quite go away.

🔪🔪🔪

a/n a happy yet spooky ending. is everything really fine? is the hacker really gone for good? maybe I'll write a sequel one day. or maybe I won't, as to not torture y/n any more.

tag list: @hollandweather @starry-eyed-steve @aloneinthehellfire @a-dealwith-god

if any of my mutuals (or anyone else) would like to be tagged in any of my future steve fics, lmk!

#st fic: superfreaky #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

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cryptiqish · 9 months

Text

y’all don’t understand in season one of the afterparty i figured out the killer like. three episodes in but this season is just. killing me. i’m wracking my entire brain. i am going full pepe silvia. is ulysses actually grace/zoe’s real father??? were sebastian, hannah and grace all in on the murder??? was devil’s trumpet even the murder weapon? is isabel being drugged by edgar?? what the hell has feng been up to??? why is sebastian drapewood an exact anagram of “we poisoned a bastard”????? how the hell does alexander minnows relate to all of this??? am i going insane???

#the afterparty

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mousy-nona · 2 months

Text

All of God's Angels

Long ago, back when all of Earth and mankind were but a twinkle in the Father’s eye and Lucifer knew nothing but the warmth of his Father’s love, back when he sung their songs and the cosmos kissed his wings when he flew, one of the other angels told Lucifer his fate.

I think you will like his newest creation, Gabriel mused. I’ve foreseen a challenge for you. An equal. A partner, tall and beautiful and terrible, and crowned in red.

Or the tale of how Lucifer finally met his (irritating, annoying, hellraising) match.

All parts up on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53800450/chapters/136173307

Chapter 1: Lucifer Falls

It was Gabriel, little Gabriel with his too-big trumpet, who let the cat out of the bag. He never could keep his stupid visions to himself.

Father is making something new, Gabriel had said.

But of course, Lucifer had replied. Isn’t he always? Perhaps it will be something interesting this time.

It was beautiful here. Perfect. An unending, ceaseless Heaven.

He was bored to death.

He played with one of his feathers, sneaking an envious glance at Gabriel’s finger, where Michael’s seal lay. Gabriel read his mind.

I think you will like His newest creation, he mused. I’ve foreseen a challenge for you. An equal.

An opponent?

Gabriel shook his head. A partner, tall and beautiful and terrible, and crowned in red.

Equal parts hope and shock took his breath away. A companion? Truly? After all of these years?

Gabriel’s mouth twisted into a small moue of distaste. They smell of blood and smoke. They smell of…

The word he’d been looking for was evil, but that hadn’t been invented yet. So Lucifer set out to create it.

When he flew down to the Garden, he found hidden in the meadows an apple and a man and a woman. Lucifer palmed the fruit in his hand, reveling in the potential that practically vibrated underneath its shiny red skin. All he had to do was plant the seed. For a fleeting moment, he thought about giving it to Adam, but even then, when he knew nothing about humanity but their aching potential – even then, he knew Adam was a dick.

No, it was Eve. It was Eve who would understand the true magnitude of his gift. It was Eve who would lead humanity out of the Garden and into a world of their own creation. He barely even had to tempt her – she took it right away, eager for her own ruin. Perhaps she was just as bored of utopia as he was.

After that, everything happened so fast he could only remember it in snapshots. A trial, a curse, a fall. Lilith made it all better, for a while. For the first few centuries, he thought he had found his fated partner at last. Tall and beautiful and terrible indeed – and a crown of gleaming red horns, to boot.

For a few years, they had been happy. Happy enough to create Charlie, who was the beaming sun of his life. Hell grew larger and more bloodthirsty by the second, but they reigned over it with a shared dream of leading their people to a better life. There would be no land of milk and honey, not for these killers and adulterers and assaulters, but maybe there could be a better fate for them. A rehabilitation, of sorts.

But time was relentless, even in the distant reaches of Hell. Slowly, so slowly Lucifer hadn’t even noticed it until it was too late, Lilith began to pull away. She was a shadow in his castle, always just barely out of reach. Worse, she took Charlie with her.

He could have forced them back. He could have pinned them down with his polluted holy light, could have made them sit and stay.

But he was not that kind of a man. The last surviving angel in Hell. So he found himself alone again, surrounded in the debris of his broken dreams.

Then came the fateful day when his daughter – his gorgeous, stunning, lovely Charlie! – called to tell him all about a project that was just like the one he’d had. A hotel, she chattered on nervously. A rehabilitation center for doomed souls.

And he’d prayed for the first time since his exile: Heavenly Father, I don’t ask for much. But please go easy on my daughter. She was still so young, so naive. It would break the last remaining piece of his heart to see her crushed just like he’d been.

He left his castle for the first time in what felt like a decade, rushing out the door in such a hurry he nearly forgot his hat and his staff (apple-shaped, of course). He’d nearly tripped over himself flinging open the frankly disgusting, half-formed door and running straight for Charlie. He’d been so ecstatic about seeing his daughter again that he hadn’t noticed anybody else – until one of them had melted into shadows and appeared right next to him, that was.

With a start, he stepped back, sizing up the towering figure that had materialized by his side. It was a man, cloaked in a scarlet suit that would have been fashionable a century ago and teeth sharper than sin. He was holding a staff as well, some old-fashioned microphone that looked deceptively simple for the amount of power he could feel emanating from it. Perhaps the most startling aspect about him was his voice – a voice overlaid with static and cloaked in false goodwill. He was infuriating, relentless, a polite knife stab that struck everywhere and nowhere at once. Everything about the man was a taunt, as if he was specially designed to incense Lucifer and drive him crazy.

His mouth went dry.

And just like that, it was a millennia ago and Gabriel’s voice was ringing in his ear, as clear as the stars and the bells.

Tall and beautiful and terrible, and crowned in red.

No. No way. Not like this. Clearing his throat and forcing an unimpressed mask to hide his progressively growing alarm, he asked, “Who is this now?”

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #radioapple #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #duckiedeer #appleradio #platonic romance

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bittsships · 2 years

Note

When you get this list five songs you like to listen to, publish. Then send this to 10 of your favorite followers!

Babylon by Barns Courtney

bad guy by Billie Eilis

Blow by Ke$ha

C'est la vie by Weathers

creature by half alive

DAYWALKER by Machine Gun Kelly & CORPSE

fairytales by Gabby Sophia

Freaks by Timmy Trumpet

killer queen by Mad Tsai

SIMP by Full Tac, Lil Mariko & Rico Nasty (this one is the worse on the list)

Now I only have 5 followers so i'll just list them all.

@phinix53, @toka-san, @saurexhas, @a-red-panda, @blue-rose-queen23

#ask me questions #asks open #answered asks #ask me shit #ask Bitts

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rafikny · 1 year

Video

youtube

The Mysterious Flying Orchestra (1977)

Totally fresh. With a name of The Mysterious Flying Orchestra, definitely worth checking out. They don’t make-em like this anymore...

#Fusion Jazz #jazz funk #saxophone & guitar #smoothjazz #jazz flute #jazz blues #killer trumpet

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mikrokosmos · 2 months

Text

youtube

J.S. Bach - Orchestral Suite no.3 in D Major, BWV 1068 (c.1730)

I want to say I was listening to this one in my rocking chair next to my books on music. Or with wine and cheese at someone's party. No, I put this on while I washed the dishes. I thought I'd share my old post on this same piece but realized that I'd never written about this suite. And I don't have anything profound or introspective to say about it. It made taking down this mountain if dirty dishes feel like a grand accomplishment. It's a reminder that this music was written for the audience to enjoy. It doesn't have to be treated like music theory homework. That being said, I do like looking at the history of the orchestral suite, which would develop into the symphony. What can we hear from Bach's Proto-Symphony no.3? The Orchestral Suite was a carryover from France's Ouvertures. It would start with a slow section to draw in the audience, and then a lively counterpunctual exercise. After the "heavier" opening movement, the rest of the pieces are light dances, galanteries (minuets, bourrées, courantes, sarabandes, gavottes, allemandes, gigues, etc.). Because the German political elite had a taste for French art, they would have music played during their banquets and parties. Bach had no real interest in this kind of music (which would be a decent income source) because he was already dedicated to writing church music. But what few he did leave behind (we only have four Orchestral Suites attributed to him) sounds like great party music. The Suite in D Major is scored for 3 trumpets, timpani, oboes, violins, viola, basso continuo, giving it a louder sound than the others. The Ouverture starts with the slower grand statement announced by the trumpets and timpani. As you'd expect from Bach, this opens into a counterpunctual explorations of the melodies that developed out of the opening, but with the vibrancy of Vivaldi's fast paced concertos. The ending section cuts back and ends with a more subdued coda. The Air of this suite has stuck in our culture through films and TV, popular for its beautiful melodies. I remember first hearing it in the most ironic example I know; played during the library scene in Seven (or "Se7en") from the 1995 film. The ugliness and depraved misanthropy in the film is contrasted for a moment by the idealized "beautiful music" by an idealized "Great Composer". I thought it was showing the spectrum of human minds, that the "greatest" Baroque composer comes from the same human family as a lunatic serial killer using the Christian "Seven Deadly Sins" for gruesome punishments against his victims. Listening to it now I think it's fascinating that someone could have been touched or moved by the gorgeous Aria without words Bach wrote for whatever party or occasion, and she would have no idea that the same music would be heard again as so many of these festival pieces were back then. The latter dances show off the trumpets to make each one boisterous and lively. Two Gavottes with heavy emphasis on the beat, an upbeat Bourrée, and ending on the always fun and swaying Gigue. Of these dances I think I love Bach's gigues the most because they're always densely woven with his long waves of counterpoint across each instrument to create a dance that makes me think of old pub drinking songs or sailors dancing and drinking at sea. Another reminder that this music is supposed to be fun and enjoyable for anyone, and you can turn your own living room into an 18th century court for fun.

Movements:

Ouverture

Air

Gavotte I/II

Bourrée

Gigue

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euphoriabled-memes · 1 year

Text

So Much (For) Starters.

All starters are lyrics taken from the album So Much (For) Stardust by the band Fall Out Boy, released March 24, 2023. Please feel free to change as you see fit. ( Seeing as I’ve made this meme the day this album came out, some lyrics may be incorrect. My apologies! )

Love From The Other Side

“You know I'm dying out here.”

“What would you trade the pain for?”

“You were the sunshine of my lifetime.”

“I'd never go, I just want to be invited.”

“Sending my love from the other side of the apocalypse.”

“Every lover's got a little dagger in their hand.”

“Nowhere left for us to go but Heaven.”

“Give up what you love before it does you in…”

Heartbreak Feels So Good

“No matter what they tell you, the future's up for grabs.”

“Is there a word for bad miracle?”

“Nobody said the road was endless.”

“Could we please pretend this won't end?”

“We could cry a little? Cry a lot?”

“We could dance our tears away, emancipate ourselves.”

Hold Me Like A Grudge

“When you ask how I've been, I know you mean well.”

“I guess I'm getting older 'cause I'm less pissed.”

“Silent killers are these years coming like waves.”

“You put the ‘fun’ into dysfunction.”

“Hold me like a grudge.”

“The world is always spinning, and I can't keep up.”

“Part-time soulmate, full-time problem.”

“I guess, somehow, we made it back.”

“I am a diamond on the inside, just add the pressure!”

“I thought I knew better, I thought it would get better.”

“I figured somehow by now, I would have got it together.”

“We'll do more than just get by.”

Fake Out

“Make no plans and none can be broken.”

“Do you laugh about me whenever I leave?”

“Do I just need more therapy?”

“Love is in the air, I just gotta figure out a window to break out.”

“My mood board is just pictures of you.”

“I'm not sad anymore.”

“We did it for futures that never came and for pasts that we're never gonna change.”

Heaven, Iowa

“Kiss my cheek, baby, please.”

“Would you read my eulogy?”

“I will never ask you for anything — except to dream sweet of me.”

“I will never ask you for anything.”

“Tell me when the party ends.”

“Will you still love who I am?”

“They don't know how much they’ll miss.”

“Save your breath; half your life you've been hooked on death!”

“Be careful what you bottle up.”

“I'm saving this all for later.”

So Good Right Now

“We'll drive until the engine just gives up.”

“I know I've made mistakes, but at least they were mine to make.”

“I'll be whatever you need me to be.”

“I cut myself down to whatever you need me to be.”

The Pink Seashell

“There's no point to any of this, it's all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes.”

“I take pleasure in the detail, you know, a, a Quarter Pounder with cheese? Those are good.”

I Am My Own Muse

“I like playing dumb, letting you figure me out.”

“I was faded, in my own defense.”

“We got to throw this year away.”

“The trumpets bring the angels, but they never came.”

“I know I keep my feelings so tucked away.”

“Just another day spent hoping we don't fall apart.”

“Let's twist the knife again like we did last summer.”

Flu Game

“I guess to you now, I'm just a face in the crowd.”

“Oh, God, kindly please, would you kill me now?”

“Carved out a place in this world for two, but it's empty without you.”

“I've got all this love I've got to keep to myself.”

“All this effort to make it look effortless.”

“I can't be who you need me to be.”

“Every candle's gotta run out of wax.”

Baby Annihilation

“Time is luck, and I wish ours overlapped more.”

“The first time I took the mask off, just had another one on underneath.”

“I'm just melted wax on a birthday cake, another year fades away.”

“If you want a job done right, you gotta do it yourself.”

“What is there between us, if not a little annihilation?”

The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years)

“I'm pretty sure, as far as humans go, I am a hard pill to swallow.”

“I spent ten years in a bit of chemical haze and I miss the way that I felt nothing.”

“Passed my old street, the house I grew up in. It breaks your heart.”

“Four of the Ramones are dead.”

“And I miss the way that I felt nothing.”

“You don't know me anymore.”

What A Time To Be Alive

“That’s the way the world used to be before our dreams started bursting at the seams.”

“I don't care if it's pretty.”

“The view's so pretty from the deck of a sinking ship.”

“Everything is lit except my serotonin.”

“Please, I just need someone to hold me.”

“Oh, what a time to be alive.”

“They say that I should try meditation, but I don’t want to be with my own thoughts.”

“I just want to be your cherry on top.”

“when I said ‘leave me alone’ this isn't quite what I meant.”

So Much (For) Stardust

“I feel like something that's been stretched out, over and over again.”

“I don't have the guts to keep it together.”

“Life is just a game, maybe.”

“I'm stuck in a lonely loop.”

“I need the sound of crowds, or I can't fall asleep at night.”

“Another year of possibilities left unwrapped like gifts the day right after Christmas passed.”

“I'm pretty positive my pain isn't cool enough.”

“I think I've been going through it.”

“In another life, you were the sunshine of my lifetime.”

“I used to be a real go-getter.”

“I used to think it'd all get better.”

“We thought we had it all.”

#has anybody done this yet #Lyric Meme #lyric starters #fall out boy lyric meme #fall out boy rp meme #Fall Out Boy lyric starters #fall out boy rp starters #indie rp meme #indie rp starters #indie roleplay starters #indie roleplay meme #indie roleplay prompts #rp meme #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay prompts #so much for stardust starters #so much (for) stardust starters

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kyne-grotto · 7 months

Text

Bonus Match: Assassin vs. Merch

Left:

Name: Simplekiller (also known as assassin)

Age: 40-45

Job: crime, assassinations,occasionally a mechanic.

How They Come Off to Most People: friendly uncle vibes, to enemies? silent . cold killer.

Have They Ever Flushed a Hotdog: no.

Favorite Colors: blue and red

Have They Ever Killed Before: a lot. Usually just hired to.

Do they play an instrument: yes. guitar, used to know trumpet, ended up forgetting.

Entrance:

they enter most situations casually.

neatly signs the register and join because “competitions are fun!” then proceed to order a small lasagna in an aluminum tray. Eating it properly and sitting patiently down in the common room, a gleeful smile across their face as they await and see what happens Right:

Name: Merch

Age: 36

Job: Merchant, ex-policeman

How They Come Off to Most People: Charming, polite. A cunning salesman, but an honest one.

Have They Ever Flushed a Hotdog: Who in there right mind would? No.

Favorite Colors: Blue, Brown,

Have They Ever Killed Before: N/A

Do they play an instrument: No

Entrance:

Merch makes his way into the hastily thrown together Event Hall. He was "late", but Senze had recommended him to enter this silly little tournament anyway. Something about the head of the Tournament requesting him specifically…?

Odd.

But who was he, Papyrus Underfell Cavern, to throw away a perfectly good opportunity to make inter-universe connections (safely, this time)?

He registers with the blank figure at the counter (Dave). Afterwards, he makes his way outside, fully intending to introduce himself to the vendors here and find some new stock. He is out of luck, however. These blank people seem to have no identity, no personality, and no real business. It was like they weren't even real people.

Unnerving-- but what should he have expected? This is a pocket world beyond even the Undertale Multiverse, after all. It had to be strange.

He obtains a bowl of borscht with sour cream from a Slavic food truck and made his way inside and into the lobby, narrowly dodging Desperation Sans's sudden assassination attempt. He flees into the Common Room, avoiding certain death taking a seat beside a potted plant and some books. A square, pulsing barrier forms between the Common Room and the Lobby, halting Desperation's murder attempt.

Ah, this isn't a Common Room-- this is a Living Room!---

Assassin/ Simpletale by frostyerwinters and NewAccount21

(@simpletale-officiale)

Merch/ Fell Cavern owned by Grotto-kay

The poll booth will close at 9PM CDT on 10/8/2023: www.deviantart.com/grotto-kay/…

#undertale #simpletale #simpleverse #undertale au #undertaleau #grotto's journal #fell_cavern

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 7 months

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God's Love & Justice Because nothing says just and loving like sending babies straight to Heaven, after mercilessly butchering them and their mothers, and letting their virgin sisters live, so they could be 'married' by their killers.

Numbers: 31:1-18

And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Avenge the children of Israel of the Midianites: afterward shalt thou be gathered unto thy people. And Moses spake unto the people, saying, Arm some of yourselves unto the war, and let them go against the Midianites, and avenge the Lord of Midian. Of every tribe a thousand, throughout all the tribes of Israel, shall ye send to the war. So there were delivered out of the thousands of Israel, a thousand of every tribe, twelve thousand armed for war. And Moses sent them to the war, a thousand of every tribe, them and Phinehas the son of Eleazar the priest, to the war, with the holy instruments, and the trumpets to blow in his hand. And they warred against the Midianites, as the Lord commanded Moses; and they slew all the males. And they slew the kings of Midian, beside the rest of them that were slain; namely, Evi, and Rekem, and Zur, and Hur, and Reba, five kings of Midian: Balaam also the son of Beor they slew with the sword. And the children of Israel took all the women of Midian captives, and their little ones, and took the spoil of all their cattle, and all their flocks, and all their goods. And they burnt all their cities wherein they dwelt, and all their goodly castles, with fire. And they took all the spoil, and all the prey, both of men and of beasts. And they brought the captives, and the prey, and the spoil, unto Moses, and Eleazar the priest, and unto the congregation of the children of Israel, unto the camp at the plains of Moab, which are by Jordan near Jericho. And Moses, and Eleazar the priest, and all the princes of the congregation, went forth to meet them without the camp. And Moses was wroth with the officers of the host, with the captains over thousands, and captains over hundreds, which came from the battle. And Moses said unto them, Have ye saved all the women alive? Behold, these caused the children of Israel, through the counsel of Balaam, to commit trespass against the Lord in the matter of Peor, and there was a plague among the congregation of the Lord. Now therefore kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman that hath known man by lying with him. But all the women children, that have not known a man by lying with him, keep alive for yourselves.

#christianity #judaism #bible #bible study #god of war #god's love #god's justice #god is love #god of love #bible horrors #book of horrors #religion of war #religion of violence #religious violence #religion #religion is a mental illness

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