#possum wicks

[evren-sadwrn]

“Please do not bring yet another creature into my office.”

John Wick OC, 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

#i say BRING MORE #DAVID TIME TO BRING ANOTHER POSSUM #A RACCOON EVEN #ellie my hr girlie(shes the hr director) #eleanor ‘ellie’ sallow #john wick oc #jw oc #my oc #oc posting #moodboard #mood board #puppy #light academia #aes #dog aesthetic #woc oc #poc oc

[tobytheeggo]

David D. (New JW OC‼️)

I just realized I haven’t posted David yet but here he is :3

There isn’t much about is his past yet but he’s just a guy who’s happy to be here and acts as a good omen to all; his Google Doc is linked!

#he has a thing with possums because of this one Josh photo 😭 #New Oc #john wick oc #jw oc #David Dovell #HR oc #human resources #High table OC #faceclaim #oc posting #original character #hypotropia

[trashy-roadkill]

I think ever since I saw that fnaf movie trailer my fnaf phase had came back so

#possum's art #fnaf withered bonnie #this is an excuse to draw my favorite animatronic shhh #made a absolute wicked bonnie design just to draw withered bonnie 💥 #maybe considering drawing designs for my other favorites shhh #fnaf

[utilitycaster]

How Funny is it for Chetney to die on the Next Long Rest: 3x82

since I started this only last episode here is a link the previous edition to refresh your memories re: the vibe. Also only 15 minutes or so have passed since then which means most of that post is still entirely relevant. It's okay though because for my own entertainment I have added a bonus feature at the bottom:

Hilarity considerations:

Just hard-carried the thinking of the party; farewell to what few arcana checks were made

finally: a werewolf that has reached the moon! what shall he do oh he's dead huh

there's still plenty of time on the moon today for him to pick up a piece of predathos BEFORE the long rest. Does the responsibility to pass that along fall to the rest of the party? THERE'S a shenanigan to be sure?

Does he have a death letter. He better have a death letter. Everyone should have one (Molly is excused bc he is proudly barely literate bless his heart and also Taliesin's letter for Percy was good enough for two games). If he does it's gonna be LIT.

No really imagine you are Matt though and Chet just fucking dies on the moon. This is a complication for Matt but it is funny for me.

I think he should play as Yussa if this happens.

Hilarity complications:

Honestly they are roughly the same as last time but I did just remember Dorao too. Plot is stored in the Travis Character. I don't mind plotlines ending bc of this death but man that destroys any ongoing non-moon plotlines basically except whatever the fuck is going on with Delilah. You know how two of the three post-Campaign VM one-shots are specifically because Grog pulled a card from the Deck of Many Things? This would be like the opposite of that. Campaign ends ten episodes earlier than it would have because we don't have any of Chet's stuff.

What if he plays one of Ishto's party members who DID actually make it but got trapped on the moon. That's a weird dynamic.

The return to the war council becomes messier and messier...Bells Hells has: raised the alarm for basically every Reilora. Otohan is here. They have left SO many witnesses. And now they got a new guy.

Forecast: 1% chance of Chetney Death. A weird arcane lightning rod level of hilarity.

Bonus because this might get repetitive (fun fact, the wizard tracker? also launched just as shit got WICKED repetitive because every episode was like max 3 hours of real time. it is my gift, and my curse.) Things in this episode with slightly more personality than Otohan Thull:

The polymorphed possum

The nervous unnamed Vanguard member in the tent

The tent

The hypothetical concept of Tent Kite

#chetney death hilarity meter #critical role #critical role spoilers #TENT KITE: for all your shenanigans needs.

[sonic-oc-showdown]

SONIC OC SHOWDOWN BRACKETS

Here’s the brackets for the showdown! They will be broken up into BRACKET A and BRACKET B and the winners of each will face each other in the final showdown

Below you can find the full character names and their creators. Polls will start to be posted WEDNESDAY MAY 10TH

BRACKET A

LEFT

1. Petri the Hedgehog ( @starfall-isle​​ ) vs Sky the Otter ( @hornet-protector​​ )

2. Alloy ( @starboundsingularity​​ ) vs Ember the Dragon ( @pika-yolo​​ )

3. Matilda the Ant ( @halcyon-pandion​​  & @frostios​​ ) vs Quake the Elephant (@bunnymajo​​ )

4. Myo the Breeze ( @limon-florcempoalli​​ ) vs Bolt the Cyber Cheetah (@addysfandomdump​​)

5. Rose the Husky ( @sonicanon) vs Aria ( @ask-saffron-and-friends​​ )

6. Kaleival ( @zepandovski​​ ) vs Pierrot ( @maareyas​​ )

7. Wren the Cybernetic Wolf (@rojaceartandgaming​​ )

8. Ghost the Desert Hedgehog ( @retrochao) vs Shred the Possum (@snakolyte​​ )

RIGHT

9. Ganymede the Jack ( @theknifedance) vs Caramel the Hedgehog (@t4twerehog​​ )

10. Ruby Rosario ( @galaxy-pop​​ ) vs Ava the Wolf ( @firedemon72​​ )

11. Deirdre Whitetail ( @sublimenol​​) vs Bertie ( @bobvelsebishot​​ )

12. Mandy ( @green-kat331​​ ) vs Agent VX ( @riftclaw​​ )

13. Zori ( @nintendoni-art) vs Zara-Ra the Echidna ( @julie-su​​ )

14. Pink the Cat ( @prince-o-rot​​ ) vs Wick and Casquette ( @wispon​​ )

15. Ari the Jackalope ( @wannabezangoose​​ ) vs Rose the Fox ( @spiritgenie​​ )

16. Data “Byte” the Goat ( @bunniibones​​ ) vs Quetza ( @beacon-of-chaos​​ )

BRACKET B

LEFT

1. Carrion the Cat ( @sonic-adventure-3​​ ) vs Pip ( @squidthechaotickid​​ )

2. Toon the Lemur Pup ( @poorlydrawnwhispangle​​ ) vs Ignatius ( @pretzelpizzapuppy​​ )

3. Jolly Rancher ( @killer-wizard​​ ) vs Windchester the Falcon ( @scizzors-theawsome​​ )

4. Gyro ( @pigknightwarrior​​ ) vs Serera ( @your-obedient-servant-g-mart​​ )

5. Splash the Seagull ( @splatoonlink​​ ) vs Poppy the Dog ( @zippityzap​​ )

6. Jasper ( @mynders-universe) vs Aryl the Chameleon ( @scorpiolight-madd​​ )

7. Siren ( @the-sonadow-chronicle​​) vs Lavyn the Reindeer ( @spunxter​​ )

9. Storm the Hedgecat ( @sege-h​​ ) vs Reflex the Hedgehog (@therealsirsticker​)

RIGHT

9. Sakuranbo “Ran” the Kitsune ( @starlitskvader​​) vs Haunt ( @pactwraith​​ )

10. Rey the Otter ( @mega-gh0st​​) vs Umbra the Android ( @autismshadow​​ )

11. Whistle the Wolf ( @khalewren​​ ) vs Lily Gale ( @vagevurig​​ ) 

12. Midnight Moon ( @angelicdevil​​ ) vs Sik the Hedgehog ( @getallemeralds​​ )

13. Eli ( @sonics-ask-blog​​ ) vs Tara-Ka the Echidna ( @jimmychakraborty​​ )

14. Eris ( @greyjediluke​​ ) vs Lux ( @fourhedge​​ )

15. Echo the Cat ( @sonicnewschannel​​ ) vs Khalid the Snow Leopard ( @lexo-dog​​)

16. Shai ( @spooperdedooper​​ ) vs Flax ( @new-kelp-city​​ )

#socs poll #sonic the hedgehog #sth

[tinkertack-labs]

I am back in the Lab again! Wicked West went well and I ended up selling out of a few things. The shop is back open with what I have left though! I'll be relisting things as soon as I can make them (along with a few new experiments). I'm also hard at work on a commission for an entire passel of possums so it may take a little bit to fully restock.

#tinkertacklabs

[jabbage]

Possums Book of Practical Cats/ Sherlock Holmes references

Further to my post where I described how Arthur Conan Doyle is entirely to blame for Cats (2019) by first inspiring TS Eliot who then inspired Andrew Lloyd Webber, here are some Sherlock Holmes references from Old Possom's Book of Practical Cats.

Firstly, everything about Macavity.

And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known (I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone) Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime! -Macavity the Mystery Cat

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson. He is the organizer of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.He is a genius, a philosopher, an abstract thinker. He has a brain of the first order. He sits motionless, like a spider in the center of its web, but that web has a thousand radiations, and he knows well every quiver of each of them. He does little himself. He only plans. But his agents are numerous and splendidly organized. - The Final Problem

Macavity’s a ginger cat, he’s very tall and thin; You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in. His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed; His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed. He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake; And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake. -Macavity the Mystery Cat

He is extremely tall and thin, his forehead domes out in a white curve, and his two eyes are deeply sunken in his head. He is clean-shaven, pale, and ascetic-looking, retaining something of the professor in his features. His shoulders are rounded from much study, and his face protrudes forward, and is forever slowly oscillating from side to side in a curiously reptilian fashion - The Final Problem

We also get a few references to the plots of The Naval Treaty and The Bruce-Partington Plans:

And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty’s gone astray, Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way, There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair— But it’s useless to investigate—Macavity’s not there!

And from Gus the Theatre Cat:

He once played a Tiger--could do it again-- Which an Indian Colonel purused down a drain.

“It is true,” Holmes answered. “Up to a certain point he did well. He was always a man of iron nerve, and the story is still told in India how he crawled down a drain after a wounded man-eating tiger. (From The Empty House)

#cats 2019 #sherlock holmes #old possoms book of practical cats

[dimensionhoppinghybrids]

In any criminal organisation there was always a underground market somewhere, somehow. A black market where those that either didn't want to get recognised or had ulterior motives went too to get their needs.

Through either trinket or substance, information, or at times, flesh.

These kind of markets always found a home somewhere, at someplace. Like a stubborn infection.

And it was this that Joseph had been trying to find in secret. He hadn't told the trio, or anyone of his plans. He had changed their lives in this alternative universe. Given them the life they could've had. Should've had.

It was something that both relieved and weighed on his hearts. All for different reasons. One of them being the fact that any such a drastic change, brought on more drastic changes in return.

And now he was facing one of those changes that he'd inadvertently put in place. The black market here had been going on for years, and had been peddling in things that Joseph always fought against.

But instead of it being done in a more quiet but open secret, the mishandling of young adventurers was being done now through capture and through an exchange of money, trade or favors. Things were secret sure, but it left a different kind of trail. One Joseph aimed to stop.

It had taken Joseph a good while to find the place, but now that he had, he had to act fast.

One whiff of the suspicion they were made and all of these bastards would fly to the darkest corners without a trace.

It was why he was so glad he now had his inary abilities. And why that strength was so important.

A cage of white hot electricity surrounded the area, and Joseph crashed through the roof with a crack of stone and metal, his tails extending out, puffing to make himself look bigger and more threatening. He didn't need to make it an act. Because even if he wasn't tall or big, he was still a threat.

And the guards inside knew it. With a slam of an alarm, all the buyers and owners of different stalls made to book it, but found themselves get struck by shadowed tendrils as they snaked out from every which shadow, tripping or holding them up by just the slimmest of margins. The tendrils didn't need to be strong to buy time for Joseph as he used his magic to form deadly barriers to prevent any escape, or chances for possible backup to get the supposed merchandise away.

Joseph gave a wicked, and cruel grin as his tails swayed with his cruel mood.

"Now, now." Joseph crooned to those he had entrapped. "Dont be hasty. The party. Has just. Started."

He said with a snarl and a bark. Electricity costing his body, his eye glowing a golden Amber, his mechanical eye a crimson red.

And the howls of fear, anger and pain was the only thing heard of those left inside.

The few that made it out the doors, never even got the chance to scream as the electric ward zapped away, like swatting flies down.

It took an hour of fighting, and making sure that no one played possum to get out of the judgement Joseph had decided.

For cruel monsters like these, death was the only thing he felt could be done. Too many connections would only lead to most getting away or be impacted in minor ways. Or perhaps he just didn't trust the justice system. Jack and Ruric had more faith, and he envied them for it. He didn't want them to break that faith. Because what he had found in locked cages, malnourished, abused, and beaten, were Pokemon of different ages and sizes. Some held young babes, having been captured and intended as servants, some meant to be used for fighting rings. Some not.

Those he found mainly catatonic. And those that were hale enough helped those that couldn't right now help themselves.

The cage of electricity had lomg since been put down, and Joseph used a flare to pop it into the sky.

He knew a rescue team would be by soon, and knew these people would be okay.

The op had been rushed and untidy. But it had done its job. And none of the victims had been hurt in the crossfire.

"Remember now," Joseph said, putting his finger to his lips. "I was never here." He said, hoping they would keep quiet. At least, for a time.

He would need time to find a way to explain it to Ruric.. He was going to be mad. But it would be worth it. Well to him at least.

With that said and done, he'd take the chance to slip into the shadows.

Once again, not knowing the true consequences of his actions, until much, much later.

----

"BREAKING NEWS; SMUGGLING AND BLACK MARKET RING THWARTED & GUTTED!"

Was the headline of many newspapers about a few days later. It didn't take long for news to travel fast, and for the contents to be told. At least, the photo of the site itself only held a picture of the front door, being held open like a looming dark maw, with police tape over the exit, like a horrid scene of a horror flick.

The papers didn't hold all the truth of what was found inside, but it described of finding several well known criminals, and a few of those known in either higher circles or influential circles being found among the dead. Described only in having; "Terrified expressions, like judgement finally came calling its dues," was quoted from a coroner.

The victims found near the site by rescue teams were said to be malnourished and abused, but found in good spirits.

When questioned about their rescuer, most kept quiet, except a young Ralts that said in a quote; "A spirit fox came to make all the hurt go away. Forever." And that was all he would say.

When prodded for more, the Ralts retreated into the group, none saying more.

Investigation is going into finding this strange spirit fox, but it is evident to say, justice came to those with nefarious deeds.

#striking down like a thunderburner (joseph) #drabble (lore)

[zombiebabysitter]

Back To Real Life || Charlie & Finn

LOCATION: Around Wicked's Rest TIMING: Recent PARTIES: Charlie (@zombiebabysitter) & Finn (@animotoph0bia) SUMMARY: Charlie comes knocking on Finn's door after not hearing from him in a few days. He decides to drag his friend out of his hotel room. CONTENT WARNINGS: Parental death tw , Suicide tw, eating disorder tw, drug tw

“You’re not fucking going anywhere I wouldn’t follow.”

Ever since the day of the eclipse, Charlie had been on edge. He hadn’t taken the ring that Gareth bought him off, afraid that if he did, the guilt would spill out everywhere and he wouldn’t have a place to put it again. Keeping the lid on it was best for everyone. Well, best for himself. He didn’t want to touch the deep grief that threatened to bubble over every time he opened that lid. Tapping on the steering wheel, he quickly turned the van in the direction of Finn’s shitass hotel. Usually, the two of them would be sending memes back and forth throughout the day, but it had been radio silent on Finn’s end for a day. And after he told Charlie that he’d nearly died three times or something? He wasn’t taking chances on the dude being dead from a fucking possum bite or something.

Charlie had gone out and gotten a necklace chain to hand the ring from, so he slipped it off his finger and hung it from the chain, then tucked it under his shirt once he’d successfully put it on. He’d already gotten the room number from Finn when they first saw each other, so he bypassed the front desk and took the stairs (no way in hell was he chancing it on those stairs). 

Charlie’s own mind was still reeling from the events with Gareth, how desperate his late partner had been for him to see it. Why did he think it was a good idea to torment him like that? What kind of person… Gareth was the best thing that ever happened to Charlie. Sure, they’d been friends for years. But when they started dating, everything made sense. Never mind the raging crush he’d had on Finn since he’d first met him back in high school, never mind that moment they’d had back when they were seventeen, never mind the– no. That’s not important. 

Charlie knocked on the hotel room door once. Twice. “Finn?” He called out after an extended silence. “Bud, I know you’re in there. I heard the clickety clacking of that keyboard from out here. Don’t fucking hide from me, man. I have to… tell someone about what fucking happened to me.” His voice hinged on desperation, the fact that he couldn’t even touch Gareth’s hand. The fact that he was going to fucking propose to him and never got the chance because a zombie fucking ate his brain. Charlie took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but it wasn’t working. He felt like he was about to vibrate out of his skull.

_____

Did he want it to have been real? It had to have been - Finn’s brain never would have conjured up kind words of that caliber, he wasn’t sure it was even close to capable. That made it worse, the moment being so fucking fleeting. A tiny crack had formed in the safe of his mind and that had already been hanging on with duct tape and a hefty dose of compartmentalization. He’d never be able to stuff everything back in the way it had been. 

The knocks on the door faded into background noise but hearing his name did the trick. His neck protested loudly as his head whipped up, previously buried in his arms. Come to think of it, his whole body ached, stiff and sore from not moving. How long had it been? He was sure he was supposed to feel hungry by now but it was all just a gaping hole. It hadn’t been his dad calling out. The muffled voice continued from behind the door and even though the words and their meaning didn’t quite register, Finn knew that voice. 

In a trance, stiff joints were forced to once again move as he pulled himself up from the floor, feet dragging on the way to the door and kicking away the reminders of his little meltdown strewn all across the floor. For a moment, Finn considered keeping the door shut. Letting the outside world in would make his fleeting moment feel even smaller in comparison. And then he opened the door anyway. 

“Hey.” His voice was raspy from not speaking in… however long it had been, Finn was pretty sure it had gone dark and then light again, at the very least. There was something pushing at the edges of his mind, foreign and frantic, scratching at the surface. Charlie. His feelings banged around, begging to be let in, thwarted by the sheer amount of anxiolytics Finn vaguely remembered taking at some point. They hadn’t rewarded him with sleep, though. Just made him more tired. 

Clearing his throat, Finn tried again. “What’s up?” He stepped to the side, allowing the jittery shape of his friend in, vaguely noting that he looked off. Was it… fear? Maybe loss. It felt hard to really grasp anything at the moment. 

It felt like forever before the door was opened and revealed a very shitty looking Finn. “Dude, when’s the last time you slept?” Charlie questioned the other, brow raised as he momentarily forgot the reason he even showed up at Finn’s place in the first place. “When’s the last time you brushed that mane of yours?” Charlie invaded the man’s space to pluck at a strand of hair that was sticking out in a goofy direction. “Not important.” He muttered, walking into the room so that Finn could close the door behind him. “Well, false. It is important. And you’re not getting out of talking about it, but… something fucking happened.” Charlie looked down at the chipped black nail polish on his finger nails, finding himself picking at the remainder on this thumb finger anxiously.

“The eclipse.” He said, looking back up to meet Finn’s eyes. Where Charlie was usually hiding his pain by being always on the move, Charlie was serious this time. “I saw… Gareth.” Charlie began fiddling with the chain around his neck, and pulled out the ring that had never been given to him. “Told me where to find this. The asshole died on me before he could fucking…” his words trailed off, and he realized there was a new feeling he didn’t let himself feel before. “I…” the words kept getting stuck in his throat, and he pulled the chain off with a sharp tug. 

He stared down at the ring before shoving it into his pocket. “I was preparing to dump him.” Charlie finally said, feeling bad at the admission of the truth. “Looking back at it, I feel like a total jackass.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. “At least I didn’t tell his fucking ghost that.” Charlie’s eyes flitted about the room, half-expecting the guy to pop out and smack him in the face. When it didn’t happen, he relaxed a fraction. 

“Enough about what happened to me,” Charlie decided with a worried expression fixing on Finn’s eyes. “What happened?” He asked, voice becoming less on edge, softer. Finn looked like shit, but that was always cause for alarm for Charlie. Finally, someone else to worry about someone that wasn’t himself for once. He was used to worrying. Worrying is what kept him from doing stupid shit. Even if he kept telling himself he was done being anxious, he could at least use it on someone he cared about. “This town is fucked.” He decided, eyes narrowing, filled with that same imploring worry for his friend.

_____

Immediately, words spilled from Charlie’s mouth and even on a normal day, it could be hard to keep up. So Finn just mumbled something incoherent under his breath, not even sure if he’d meant for it to be a complete sentence or not, quietly letting those nervous fingers tug at his hair. If he’d had the energy, Finn would have swatted them away but it felt like too much effort at this point. Slinking over to the bed instead and taking a seat, glassy eyes followed Charlie’s pacing as best they could until he stopped. And those words definitely pierced through the fog around Finn’s brain. The eclipse. 

His own feelings rolled back into place, followed by Charlie’s sadness. It didn’t hit like a loaded tanker truck, luckily still dampened by joyous prescriptions but the dial in Finn’s head was back on, even if the signal was still fuzzy. Sadness, pain… guilt? Trying to sit up straighter, he blinked at the ring between Charlie’s fingers as the story puzzled together. Oh. Oh. “Oh fuck,” Finn commented eloquently, wincing as the chain snapped. But Charlie wasn’t done. 

The reason for his friend’s guilt was made apparent and what the fuck did you even say to that, other than a dumstruck curse which Finn had already used. “That’s not…” The words trudged through muddy water, slow but determined. “That doesn’t make you a bad person.” Was Charlie relieved that he hadn’t needed to go through with the breakup? Would never need to say no to a proposal? Finn couldn’t really tell but either way, he meant it. “Timing is shit but… it’s not like any of this is your fault.” You didn’t do anything wrong. 

Eyes squeezing shut as his father’s voice echoed in his mind, it took Finn a moment to catch back up to Charlie changing course - again. “What? Oh, y’know… same as you, I guess. Quick visit from the other side.” His tone was a strange mix of casual and borderline hysteric. Charlie’s guilt started to echo his own - his friend had come here looking for comfort, or at least to vent, yet the focus was on Finn. Again. “It’s fine, we don’t need to talk about it. Just… tell me more about Gareth.”

_____

Charlie watched as Finn squeezed his eyes shut, and Charlie narrowed his eyes even more than he already was. “Sit down, we’re talking.” Charlie grabbed Finn’s wrist and dragged him over to the unmade bed and forced him to sit down. “Talk.” Charlie insisted as he jabbed a finger out toward him. “I don’t want to fucking talk about Gareth. What’s talking about him going to do, bring him back so I can awkwardly tell him that I was never that into him after two years together? Hard fucking pass, Cooper.”

Charlie rolled his eyes as he plopped down beside Finn, then looked toward the door of the hotel room. “You need to get high?” Charlie asked, nudging the other with a raised brow. “I think you need to do something other than stay in this room.” He decided, walking over to the window and throwing open the curtains, half expecting Finn to hiss in protest. “We don’t have to talk about it, but we have to do something about it.” He decided, taking on the role of the responsible one for once. Usually he didn’t. Usually he was wreaking havoc, but right now? Right now Finn needed a friend, not an idiot. 

“So what’ll it be?” He asked once he realized the hotel window didn’t fucking open, stupid shitty room. “Are we going for a drive somewhere or are we going to talk about what happened?” Charlie looked around the room for a moment, smirking. “I don’t think either of us want to talk about our fucking feelings while sober.” Charlie rolled his eyes, the idea of talking about someone who he was supposed to love and feel broken up over coming to visit him as the dumbest fucking hallmark shit to happen to him. 

“God, this hotel room blows, dude.” Charlie muttered as he looked around the dark space. “Have you just been holed up in your room in the dark like this since…” he pulled out his phone and checked his text log with Finn. Two days ago. “Two fucking days, Cooper?” Charlie shook his head, pulling the hair tie off his wrist and pulling his hair up into a ponytail. “Come on, we’re going somewhere.” He announced, clapping his hands together twice, as if trying to pull Finn into the present.

_____

An attempt had been made but honestly, it was a shit one. Probably didn’t matter how obviously Finn was in crisis, his friend probably would have clocked it anyway. Finn might have had the advantage of literally knowing how everyone else felt but Charlie had just seen enough of the empath’s attempts at ‘fine’ to tell. Rubbing at his dry eyes, Finn gave a noncommittal shrug to Charlie’s reasoning. It made sense, kinda, that he didn’t want to dwell on it. Still, Finn wasn’t sure he could conjure up the words to explain his own situation. 

“Jeez, mom,” Finn muttered as the shades were opened, making the room look even worse. He was deflecting, and badly at that. The idea of leaving the room felt preposterous but the reasoning behind it was even more stupid. His dad hadn’t returned at this point, staying longer wasn’t going to change that. “I guess… a drive?” he answered hesitantly, suddenly overwhelmed with how grateful he was for Charlie’s presence. It was selfish and needy but he could only deal with one problem at a time. 

The moment time became a real thing again, two days, Finn knew that he wasn’t just hollow in an emotional way, he was definitely starving. “Fuck,” he breathed. No wonder everything felt achy and his mind was goo. “Yeah, okay, alright,” he relented, eyes narrowing at the loud clapping before he dragged himself up off the bed. “Just give me a sec…” Digging through a pile of clothes on the floor, he finally found a shirt that was at least cleaner than his current one, which he pulled off and added to the pile before changing. “Should probably do a food stop, though,” he noted, unable to ignore the twisting pain in his stomach now that he’d taken notice. Snatching up a jacket and a baseball cap to cover up the presumed travesty of his hair, Finn let Charlie lead him out the room, trying not to dwell on whether or not he ever would have gone over the threshold if not forced. 

“It was dad.” The words spilled out the second the doors to the van shut, fingers digging into the material of his jeans in an attempt to stop them shaking, a brutal combination of hunger, lack of sleep and everything else. Finn didn’t look at Charlie, pointedly staring down the road instead as he made some vague gesture with his head to indicate a wish to start driving. 

For once, Charlie waited patiently as Finn disappeared to change into clothes that god only knew how unwashed they were. Sniff test, nice! Works fifty percent of the time, every time. Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and looked around the hotel room. It was a mess, but then again, so was Charlie’s van ever since he took up residence in it. He really wasn’t one to call out a depression hoard when he saw one. Charlie kicked a pile of clothes by his feet, wondering how much it would take to get the guy to do his laundry. His gaze tore from the clothes on the ground and up at Finn who was requesting food. “Yeah, sounds reasonable.” He responded, watching as Finn covered up his hair with a hat. 

Leading Finn through the halls and out to his faithful van, Morty, Charlie closed the door behind him and was immediately hit with Finn’s confession. “Shit dude, really?” Charlie spoke as he started up the car, looking over to his friend to see him struggling to keep still, as if the words were going to make room for something worse. He made a weird motion toward the road. Right. Driving. Charlie nodded his head silently and pulled off onto the street, gaze flickering to Finn to make sure he was alright. 

“What are we feeling, are we feeling something greasy or something healthy?” Charlie asked Finn, who seemed intent on picking holes into his pants at the rate he was going. “Greasy.” Charlie spoke before Finn could even attempt a response, and headed in the direction of that diner he’d eaten at with the band the first night they arrived in town. “What did… What did he say?” Charlie asked, wanting Finn to talk about it instead of bottling it up. That’s what his mom always made him do when something was bothering him, so he figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Finn. Not that Finn would want to talk, dude was notorious for clamming up when it suited him.

There was something in Charlie that stirred. Something that he’d ignored when he was close with Finn back in high school. He swore to himself he wouldn’t let come back. But there it was. That annoying, glaring obvious crush that he’d had on Finn back when they were seventeen. Charlie swallowed it down. This wasn’t the fucking time, dammit. Finding them stopped at a stoplight, Charlie looked over to Finn. Despite the disheveled appearance, Charlie couldn’t help but feel something. Dammit, dammit, dammit. He swallowed it down again. Not now, not ever. But especially not now. “You know.” Charlie began, as he turned left, “The last thing your dad would want is you holing up in your room pretending that you didn’t hear whatever you said. He’s your dad. Dude probably said something wise and it hurt to hear because deep down you know he was right.” Charlie admittedly was thinking of that moment in the Lion King where Mufasa tells Simba to remember who he is.

Charlie’s worry was a buzzing fly, insistently bonking into Finn’s face and not knowing where else to go. He hated it, knew he’d also hate the expression he was sure to see if he turned his head. It had felt strangely good to say that out loud, though. Carrying it around quietly for two fucking days while it expanded and pushed at him like a living, breathing thing… At the very least, it made him feel slightly less insane. Especially after Charlie’s close encounter of his own. 

Even so, it took a while for his mouth to function properly again and form words but Charlie was used to that, too. As much as it terrified Finn to have someone he cared about living in this pit of despair, he was so fucking grateful for it at this moment. The question lingered between them, almost patiently, letting Finn scoop up his father’s words and attempt to arrange them into a sentence. Like a kid desperately trying to glue together the vase they accidentally broke. It didn’t help that his heart kept skipping a beat, stomach churning in a way that was less aggressive than panic. Like butterflies. 

Somewhere, underneath the all encompassing feeling of just wanting to take a week long nap, Finn knew he recognized those exact intrusive emotions. Had studied them once, known them well enough that they became a comforting background noise. Maybe even would have puzzled it together if Charlie hadn’t continued speaking. 

“He was always fucking right,” Finn mumbled, surprising himself with the ability to speak once more restored. “It’s like… I could spend ten minutes talking and not really be saying shit, then he’d sit and think for a moment before giving the most eloquent and earth shattering argument ever… y’know?” He heaved a breath before the words kept spilling out. “But now he just… apologized. Said it…” God, the fucking hard part. “Said it wasn’t my fault. And he really wanted me to believe it, too. But how fucking can I when I knew. I knew, Charlie, exactly how he was feeling and I didn’t do anything. He doesn’t know that I knew so how can he say that? How in the fuck am I supposed to believe there wasn’t more I could have done?” 

His voice rose with every sentence, probably would have morphed into shouting if the waterworks hadn’t been turned on, a sob cutting off any further attempts to berate an answer from Charlie, to questions no one could ever really answer properly. “God,” Finn choked out, face disappearing into his hands as he shook his head. 

_____

Not wasting any time, Charlie pulled into a parking lot to what seemed to be a forest preserve and parked the car, leaving it running as he circled around the front of the van and opened Finn’s door and reached in to put his arms around his friend. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn’t say anything on this earth that would make it better. But he could, as he’d always done, be there for Finn. Since that first time he decided to run after him in the middle of a hockey game, Charlie always had a need to go after him and make sure he was alright. “And you were a kid, Finn.” Charlie said after letting Finn cry it out for a while. “You were a kid. You can tell yourself that you should have known better because of XYZ, but you were still a fucking kid.” Charlie pulled away to get a look at Finn, the shaking of his shoulders, the soft gasps as he cried. Charlie’s heart felt like it broke in half. 

“I don’t know what it means that you knew. I don’t. But even if you could feel what he was feeling, again, you couldn’t have grasped the full indication of it because you were. A. Kid.” Charlie looked at his surroundings, glad that there weren’t any cars in the parking lot. No one was around to watch this. Finn wouldn’t want that. “I blame myself for what happened to my friends, you know.” He finally said after a beat of silence. “Like, really fucking blame myself. I was the only one that didn’t want to go. And the group? They listened to me. If I had just put my fucking foot down, they’d still be alive. That’s on me. I live with that. But what happened to your dad was in no way your fault.” 

Charlie had never lost a parent. Especially not in the way that Finn had lost his father. But his own father had. It was his father who he talked to about Finn and what happened to his dad. Hudson Hart was a songwriter who had lived a life and a half by the time he was eighteen. Charlie wished that he could get his dad to dispense some wisdom to Finn. Maybe he’d call for advice. “You know, all the shit I told you when you lost your dad, it came from my dad. He lost his dad kinda the same way.” He admitted. “Told me what to tell you. Told me that it wouldn’t help heal the wounds, but at least that you would know you weren’t alone in feeling the pain.” 

Charlie stared off into the woods for a moment, a frown forming on his usually cheery expression as he let Finn cry. He deserved to cry. “I’m always going to be here for you, you know that, right? You couldn’t do anything to me that would drive me away. You say you can feel other people’s emotions? Read mine.” Charlie was serious. All he felt for his friend was love and empathy. He’d always be there for Finn. Always. He felt that to his core. “You’re not fucking going anywhere I wouldn’t follow.”

_____

Finn heard the car pull over and stall, a door opening and then another, feeling like the biggest mess in the world and wanting to tell Charlie that it was fine, they could keep driving. He didn’t say any of that, the arms wrapped around him making it infinitely easier to breathe and why would he protest that? Some of Charlie’s words filtered through but mostly, Finn was grateful for the stream of words to contradict his sobs. Charlie pulled away and his body screamed for the comforting touch just as loud as his lungs demanded more oxygen. 

For once, someone else’s pain was a relief. Charlie’s regret, his guilt, it hadn’t festered yet. It was heavy and painful but still raw, not yet complicated by years and years of not thinking about it. Later, he’d tell Charlie that taking responsibility for that night was the stupidest thing his friend had ever said, and the guy had a pretty solid track record of saying dumb shit. For now, it was all he could do to just keep breathing. 

And then he was remembering that evening. Once the police and the priest had all left the house, making it eerily quiet and empty, Finn had told the only person he knew would listen. Charlie had listened, had made his way to him despite the late hour, and held him just like this. He hadn’t explained about his guilt back then, hadn’t even registered it himself. And it was true, Finn hadn’t been alone then. Wasn’t alone now but somewhere in between, he’d shut everyone and everything out. He knew what everyone else was feeling but god forbid anyone got a glimpse at him. 

In the jarring silence of Charlie taking a beat, Finn realized he’d run dry. Breathing was still a struggle, chest aching with the effort, but he had the tiniest semblance of control. And so when Charlie demanded that he confirm, Finn did. Let the warmth, mingled with pain as it was, envelop him. Didn’t focus on why the fuck he was deserving of this feeling, it was too much of a relief to spoil. He raised his head, just enough to look at Charlie before closing his eyes again, forehead leaning against his friend’s. It didn’t change how powerful those emotions are, how strongly he could feel them, not really. But Finn still kind of felt like it did. 

“Guess it’s… lucky for me. That you have such shit standards when it comes to friends.” Even with a shaky inhale cutting through his words, they still held a genuine hint of something calm. Some semblance of normal. “Does that mean I have to follow you anywhere you go?” Finn finally leaned back, opening his eyes and forcing a smile. It was easier than he’d thought. “Because I totally will but you’re definitely going to crazier places than I am.”

_____

For a moment, Charlie felt overwhelmed. Finn was too close, too fucking close to his face. But for a moment, he let the feeling drift away and close his eyes with his forehead pressed against the guy he knew would, despite his whining, do anything for him. With all the shit he’d been through in the past month, Finn felt like a life preserver cast out to him before he went under. Completely unexpected but completely necessary in the moment he needed it most. He opened his eyes to realize the panic that surged through him at the closeness of it all and then quickly schooled his expression before Finn opened his eyes. 

Cracking a smile at Finn when he insulted the type of people he kept around, Charlie knocked his forehead against Finn’s. “Contrary to what you believe, I think you’re a pretty great friend. Not your fault the shit you’ve been through in your life. Friends stand by each other regardless of the shit they’re going through, yeah? I didn’t walk away then, I’m not walking away now.” Charlie knocked on Finn’s head, making wide eyes at him before taking a step away from him to give him space. “You need to eat.” Charlie decided as he made his way to the driver’s seat and hopped into the van. 

“You don’t have to follow me anywhere I go, because I plan on living balls to the walls crazy.” Charlie told Finn with a wicked grin on his face. Charlie put the gear into drive and headed toward the street. “But y’know. If I call for backup, it’d be cool if you answered.” Charlie shot Finn a lopsided grin before pulling his attention back to the road. “I’ve got a lot of crazy shit planned, none of which you have to involve yourself in unless I need you to.” 

Charlie shot a glance in Finn’s direction, curious. “So uh, you, uh, you knew.” Charlie spoke, voice calm as possible despite the racing of his heart. “How did you know? Are you really attuned to people’s emotions or something?” He questioned, wanting to know just how attuned to Charlie Finn really was. Shit, did he know that crush he absolutely had on him back in high school? Fuck, that’s fucking embarrassing as shit, wasn’t it? Charlie felt his face grow warm, tapping his finger against the steering wheel, trying to pour all his concentration on driving and nothing else.

_____

Finn huffed out some semblance of a laugh at the gentlest of headbutts, voice still feeling raw. “Fine, lucky you’re stubborn, then,” he corrected, sinking back into the car seat and wiping furtively at his face while Charlie rounded the van. Things were still pretty shit, but the vice grip around his heart had loosened just so. It was possible now to focus on his friend’s demented rambling. “You’re insane,” he chided, unable to keep a straight face with that crooked grin staring straight back at him. “But yeah, I’m there. Promise.”

There was no tension in the silence now, the question of ‘what the fuck happened’ no longer hanging between them. Finn definitely looked even more like shit than before but honestly, he was confident he wouldn’t be the worst looking thing to walk into wherever Charlie took him for food. Well, there hadn’t been tension but from nowhere, the air became electrified once more. Oh. Yeah, keeping that part secret hadn’t exactly been a priority earlier. 

Charlie was embarrassed, nervous - everyone always was when he told them. Those who believed him, anyway. “Uh… yeah. Guess that’s one way to put it. Sort of the reason I moved out here, actually. For some answers.” He risked a glance at Charlie and frowned. “I didn’t really get it, at first. In high school, I mean. Thought I was just inheriting the family crazies but… I don’t know. I thought about telling you but I couldn’t risk you… not believing me, I guess? Not sure if you noticed but you were basically the only friend I had at that point so…” 

Was there anything he could say to make Charlie less nervous? Finn had a sinking feeling that he knew the basis of that embarrassment but it was stupid - Charlie had nothing to be ashamed of and it had been years, anyway. “It helped, a bit. Convinced me you weren’t just hanging with me out of, like, pity or planning some elaborate prank to humiliate me. I’m… sorry I didn’t tell you earlier but I wanted to avoid… this. I didn’t want it to change anything but, uh… definitely get that it feels like a huge violation of privacy.”

_____

Charlie shot back a wink with a click of his tongue. “Bingo, pal.” He told Finn with a slow nod of his head. “Hey, I may be insane but at least I’m having fun.” He told the other with a raised brow, keeping his eyes on the road. Still, he smiled when Finn said that he’d be there. “Same goes for you. Whoever’s looking for you, I’m there if something goes down. Or if you find yourself in a weird situation with this town, just call me. I’ll be there.” Charlie reached a hand out toward Finn and smacked the brim of his cap. “Bitch.” He added on to mess up whatever moment the two of them were having.

He listened as Finn told his story, how it led him to this weird town of all places. “Well if you’re going to find answers anywhere, this weird town definitely makes sense to check.” Charlie agreed with a shrug of his shoulder as he turned on his blinker, tapping on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change. “Finn I’ll be honest, I don’t think I would have.” Charlie admitted, looking over to Finn out of the corner of his eyes before turning into the diner’s parking lot. “You shut everyone out. But not me. Why? Because I was too fucking stubborn to let you leave?” Charlie shot the other a wry smile as he parked the van. 

“I’ll be honest, the whole… reading my feelings thing is definitely going to take some adjustment.” He admitted, shifting in his seat so he could look at Finn. “But, I don’t care. You’re my friend, not my fuckin’ shrink. Thank god for that.” He looked Finn up and down for added effect. “And one, never in my life would I prank you to humiliate you.” He spoke, holding up a finger. “And two, you’re a good friend when you dig through all the shit you use to try and throw people off. So don’t… don’t sell yourself short, alright?” Charlie patted Finn’s shoulder before scooting out of the driver’s seat and getting out of the car. “Now come the fuck on, you gotta be starving.” He insisted, motioning for Finn to follow him into the diner. “Food’s on me.” He told his friend, pulling the hairtie free from his hair, his curls falling down past his shoulders. “You know someone clocked my sexuality based off the fact that I take care of my hair?” Charlie suddenly said, then looked at Finn’s hair hiding underneath a baseball cap. “You know what… never mind.” He muttered, staring at the obvious bedhead that Finn was sporting under the hat. 

_____

“We have two very different views on the word fun,” Finn sighed but digressed - Charlie’s little defiance against death was a battle for another day. And right now, he’d rather focus on this whole part of two people just being there for each other and not zombie shit or death. Laughing as the cap was bonked down to cover his eyes, Finn retaliated with a punch to Charlie’s shoulder. Well, something like a punch, his arms felt like noodles after his little hermit stint. “Fuck you,” he retorted fondly. 

It was a relief to find the initial panic simmering down as Charlie mulled it all over, asking questions Finn didn’t really have the answers to. Why indeed had he let his walls down with the former band geek turned outcast when it would have been so easy to bite his head off? Maybe a strange sense of kinship - Finn’s own rapid and quite brutal tumble down the social ladder as a certified insane person hadn’t exactly been a smooth ride. “I guess… you actually cared. It was nice.” A pause. “The stubborn part too, though.”

Finn hadn’t quite realized just how heavily this secret had been weighing on him, keeping it from someone who seemed intent to be there for all of the worst days in his life. It had always felt deceitful, keeping the biggest part of him hidden away while everything else lay exposed. And Charlie was cool with it, or would get there, because of course he was. Anxiety, and what could probably be described as a deep rooted fear of abandonment or some shit, had made Finn underestimate his friend. “Oh god, if I was your shrink, you would be way more messed up, man,” Finn agreed, chuckling at the mere notion. “And I promise that I, like… do try not to invade. As much as I can, at least.” The part about not selling himself short, though… They’d made enough progress for today so Finn gave a vague shrug and a mumble that he’d try, or something. 

Getting out of the van, Finn’s hunger reached a new peak at the smell of food. It was almost distracting enough to completely ignore Charlie’s comment. It made him laugh, maybe with the accuracy of it because Finn’s hair received no care - he was basically gaslighting it at this point. “Wha- don’t judge me!” he argued, shoving the other man as they moved for the doors. “We can’t all have perfect, gay hair, you jerk.” Even so, Finn furtively raked back his hair in an attempt to lessen what could be clocked from his hair - hot mess - and adjusted the cap before following Charlie inside.

—-

“Of fucking course I actually cared, you jerk.” Charlie quipped back at Finn with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “And you? Therapizing anyone? Hell no.” Charlie shook his head and waved a hand before opening the door to the diner and ushering in his friend with a dramatic flourish. There was a young girl behind the counter, and she looked up at them with a bored expression before recognition flashed in her eyes at Charlie. “Oh! You’re… Charlie Hart.” She spoke, blinking her eyes as if she couldn’t quite believe it. Charlie, ever the uncomfortable one, gave an awkward smile and pointed toward a corner booth tucked out of the way. “Not today I’m not. I’m just some guy.” He told her with a playful wink. 

After he tucked himself away in the corner out of the way of the entrance, Charlie deflated a bit. “I used to revel in being fuckin’ recognized, man.” Charlie spoke, looking out the window for a moment before forcing himself back to the present. “Now it just feels like a reminder of what I’ll never have again.” Charlie’s hand drifted to his pocket where he’d deposited the ring he’d torn off earlier. “I dunno. It’s just… a shit feeling I guess.” He muttered before the waitress walked over, an older woman with a customer service smile plastered on her face.

“What can I get you two?” She asked, looking between the two with that same plastered on smile. “Can I get a coffee?” Charlie asked with a polite smile before plucking a menu from the side of the table to finally look at the thing. “Any creamer?” She asked, to which Charlie shook his head. “Just black, thanks.” He replied, eyes scanning the menu for something that sounded remotely interesting. Charlie let himself look over the top of his menu at Finn. It was still a surreal feeling that the person he’d considered a good friend was back in his life. Then again, if anyone was going to resurface in his life that he could pester unending, it would definitely be Finn, wouldn’t it?

The waitress took Finn’s drink order and disappeared into the back, leaving the two alone, and Charlie could feel the girl behind the counter staring at him. “She’s looking at me, isn’t she?” He whispered toward Finn, eyes peeking over the top of his menu. “I mean, I know she is without looking. It’s not like I’m super famous or anything.” Charlie buried his head in his hands for a moment, willing the girl to go back to her job or something.

_____

The place wasn’t too crowded, thank fuck for that, and Finn meandered behind Charlie with the full intention of being seen by as few people as possible. Charlie Hart? It took a lot of willpower to stifle a snort, the sharp contrast of the waitress’s excitement with Charlie’s dread nothing short of hilarious. He couldn’t help the smile, though, following his friend to the booth and slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Oh my god, Charlie Hart? Can I please get an autograph?” he stage-whispered with mock excitement but the grin fell from his face the second Charlie stopped pretending. Right. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Finn reached over to give Charlie’s free hand a squeeze. Before he could think of something comforting, they were being forced to offer. Triple espresso sounded like a decent start. Drawing back his hand, he followed Charlie’s lead in looking at the menu, stomach churning at the thought of actually eating anything. Maybe there wasn’t even any space for food in there anymore. Charlie’s discomfort was growing and Finn frowned, shamelessly looking over at the waitress in question. “Yup. And trying to hide the fact that she was definitely taking pictures.” With a rather steely glare from the empath, she turned and went back to work, or at least pretended to. 

“And what do you mean, not super famous? I for one am, like, swooning over here.” Jokes felt safer, at least until he’d had some coffee. 

—-

Charlie rolled his eyes at Finn’s playfulness, shaking him off with a small smile. “You want just an autograph when you could have whatever you want?” Charlie shot back with a wiggle of his brows. “Could have the shirt off my back but instead you’ll sell a lock of my hair on eBay or some shit.” The musician rolled his eyes dramatically. 

The squeeze of his hand was comforting. It reminded him that he was in the diner, reminded him that he wasn’t somewhere else being somebody else for the sake of image. “Of course she was fucking taking pictures, you see this rocking bod? I would too.” Charlie found himself joking in return, flipping his hair over his shoulder with an easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

He turned back to the menu, settling on a burger and fries. “You’re not getting out of eating, you’ve got to eat something.” Charlie told Finn with a point in his direction, eyes hardened like a parent scolding their child. “You know, I get that it might be too much to be seen with me when I get recognized.” He spoke, voice soft and meek. Charlie set the menu down, leaning back in his seat. “But it’ll die down, I’m sure. Once everyone stops caring about what happened. Press cycles only last so long.” 

“Oh you’re swooning, are you?” Charlie questioned, gaze incredulous. “I’ll have you know I am quite the fucking catch. And here you are making fun of me.” He smiled as the waitress returned with their drinks. Charlie ordered his burger, then stared Finn down to make sure he ordered something of substance. 

_____

“Ruin the hair? Blasphemy,” came Finn’s dry reply, contrasted by a smile because at least Charlie’s mood wasn’t so low that some shit jokes and sarcasm couldn’t help, even if it was just a bit. He was putting on an act but hopefully not for Finn’s benefit, especially since now both of them knew it was no use. “I’m always just so glad to see celebrities staying humble despite the fame,” he sighed before tossing a salt packet at the other man. 

With some halfhearted grumbling, Finn settled on an order, but not before swatting away Charlie’s accusing finger for what felt like the hundredth time in just the short span of time since he’d been back. Familiarity really was a strange thing. And then Charlie shrunk into himself again, still violently tossing between this emotion and that like a hyperactive pendulum. At least Finn was just consistently spiraling. “Funny, I weirdly remember a conversation… something about being there… even when shit is hard or weird? Ringing any bells for you?” 

Leaning back in the booth, trying not to think about how soft it was and how easy it would be to maybe just take a quick nap for a second… Finn gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Besides, not like it’s news, you just hanging out with literally just a guy, TM. And I get to make fun of all the fans that didn’t know you when you were a dork, sorry, more of a dork so…” Smiling, hoping that the dumb rambling was taking Charlie’s mind off of the atrocities, Finn’s final jab about his friend being a catch got interrupted by the waitress. Shoving a menu in Charlie’s face to block the pointed stare, Finn did order some food. Mostly picked at it, stomach full after a few bites but feeling much closer to human than he had back in the motel room. And he kept talking shit, using whatever energy he had to repay the favor of Charlie dragging him out, at least providing a momentary distraction from the rest of the world, weird fans taking creepy pictures and the ring he knew his friend was regularly grasping in his pocket. Nothing wrong with just pretending things weren’t absolute shit for a couple of hours.

#Back to Real Life #threads #t;animotoph0bia #animotoph0bia #parental death tw #suicide tw #eating disorder tw #drug tw

[evren-sadwrn]

“Ah, damn I should have brought another possum…”

John Wick OC, 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋

#david dowell #linking the characters to the og bloggers if they dont have an acc #john wick oc #jw oc #moodboard #mood board #dark academia #chaotic academia #images #friend oc

[acapelladitty]

Hi! I'm a horror movies fan too! I just wanted to ask you what do you find the most interesting in these films? For example: I've watched Possum, Lake Mungo and Possession because you talked so well about them but I found them kinda boring. (I just want to know what you like about these films, not criticise your tastes). Bye! Have a nice day!

Hmm, what makes a horror interesting for me is SO subjective for me depending on which film it is that this is a REALLY hard question to answer! I'll talk specifically about those ones though 💋

Possum: Possum is probably the coldest film I have ever seen. There is not a single moment of warmth or joy and the Possum puppet itself is a wretched wee thing. The story of the protagonist and his obvious struggle with how he's perceived and the crimes he has possibly committed is engaging and also miserable to see.

Lake Mungo: The set-up of this film as a documentary is SO interesting because it adds a wicked kind of reality to the situation that makes you feel for all the characters, including Alice as its slowly revealed just how little anyone truly understood her. I'm a big fan of the twists and turns in this film and just how sad the ending is. Plus, that fucking THING on the video recording is genuinely rank rotten and I hate it.

Possession: My muse. My fav. My flame! I fucking love this film because it's so batshit insane. NOTHING is confirmed or stated directly and the story must be picked apart in little bits and pieces from the scenes which are performed like not a single person on screen is human. It's strange and beautiful with new things to be enjoyed upon every single rewatch!

#possum #lake mungo #possession #horror movies #horror #horror films

[trashy-roadkill]

*hits the griddy /j*

#possum's art #friday night funkin #possum's ocs #MC MENTAL TAKE THIS ONE AWAY. WICKED

[latelyanobsession]

Waking sensitive billy up to a blowjob?

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

k disclaimer kiddos *always make sure you got consent for this kinda thing and thoroughly discuss it with your partner(s) because waking someone up or messing with someone asleep/coming out of sleep (yes, that counts as unable to give consent at that moment)...*

assuming you have billy's consent for this.

out of the two of you, you always tend to be the first one up. which suits you better. ever the early riser, shower hog, with a morning routine that takes careful crafting lest you look like the wreck of the Hesperus. billy usually wakes up somewhere in the middle of all this, tottering into the bathroom, curls flattened and scattered from sleep. a grunted "g'mornin" and a hand brushing across your lower back as he finds the toilet. he's not exactly unpleasant in the mornings, but pleasantries don't begin until a shower is had and a slice of toast is in hand. until then mornings are pretty quiet, save for your rushing around.

but this morning is different. it's sunday morning and you've both overslept your way into late morning. shifting under the blankets you stretch, drawing yourself out over his chest. an arm is thrown around you, a hand squeezing your thigh in acknowledgment. "we should get up..." you state to no one in particular. a low rumbled "mmmmppph" is your reply, as he pulls you in closer. he has no intention of getting up. "c'mon..." you prod. another grumbled response as you adjust your weight atop him, leg slipping between his, brushing against his crotch. his breath hitching, a wicked little grin growing on your lips.

"you're getting up..." you warned. he exhaled lazily, playing possum. hands wrapping securely around his pillow. no, i'm not.

rearranging yourself under the covers you rested your head against his navel. your target staring right at you. "last chance..." no answer, soft puffing snores reaching your ears in time with the rise and fall of his stomach. wrapping your hand around his morning wood, you stuck your tongue out, running a thick strip across the head. and back again in the opposite direction, your ears pricked for reaction. stomach muscles contracted sharply, a deep inhale following, but nothing else. you'd have to try harder.

pulling the crown snugly between your lips, your tongue lapped leisurely at him. taking the opportunity to lave patterned circles about the swollen tip, delving into his slit at the slightest taste of precum. an elongated groan hit your ears. his hips jutting up to meet you.

taking his stiff length into your mouth, you pressed your tongue flat as you descended. pairing each swallowed inch with a controlled breath, his cock nudging the pocket of your cheek as you rose on an exhale. he was rousing, a hand crawling the expanse of your back and lazily tangling itself in your hair. you weren't nearly done though.

tipping your head you worked his length in broad strokes. moans tumbling into the air above you. you pushed his length further towards the back of your throat with each thrust of your head. his cock hitting your gag reflex, the muscle tightening. "fucking ... shit" he whimpered, hand digging deep into your scalp. fighting the urge to cough and splutter, you held him there. your throat contracting around him before you pulled back only to tease up his length a few more times and deepthroat him again.

the grip in your locks was springing up tears at the edges of your eyes as his hips stuttered. your pace was steady and consistent. swirling your tongue along the crown only to drop your head down his length. once. twice. three times. and then hold. his hips jerking and trembling, thrusting to meet your lips each time. panted whines and muttered curses falling from his lips. "m close babe..." he warns. understanding, you pull back. your attentions becoming shallow and precise. a hand cupping him, squeezing. he's done for. his hips drawing up in a final thrust, as you slacken your jaw. tongue sliding along his softening underbelly as you accept each spurt of warmth. he's spent. breathing hard as you pop your head back up through the sheets. your hair skewed and smile crooked.

"brunch?" you hum as he paws for the carton of cigs on the side table.

#not sure what you meant by sensitive so i went with this #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove blurbs #billy hargrove x female reader

[vronism]

☠♒ൠ ;))))))

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

I don't think anyone really realizes how dangerous and violent Jess really is. She is very inconspicuous in looking like a scringly possum straight from the garbage disposal, but if given a hit she WILL freakin-- John Wick the target and not bat an eye. There's a lot of suppressed anger in there.

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

Being brought up on Night City artificial food, she's having major troubles to get over the texture of real actual food after she joins the Aldecaldos. :,(

ൠ - random headcanon

All of her tattoos she designed and drew herself, but physically was able to tattoo only her thighs; the rest was tattooed by some of her friends from the tattoo shop she used to work at!

#woo finally got to answering these #gonna do one ask a day i think #thank you! #having a shitty weekend need some kid of distraction haha #** week lol #whole week is being shitty and also its wednesday

[bumblebeeappletree]

Costa visits a sustainable house and garden, designed to make efficient use of every space. Subscribe 🔔 http://ab.co/GA-subscribe

Mike and his partner bought an unrenovated house on a leafy Mt Colah street 10 years ago. Their garden starts on the verge with edibles, and the front yard is a thriving ‘no dig’ food forest. There’s another obvious sign that there’s something interesting going on here - a community swap stall with seeds, plants and books all enclosed in a big, old red phone box. 

Mike says he’s met more of my neighbours in the last month, than in seven years!

Mike’s aim is to improve livability while caring for the planet. Mike renovated the original house to increase its energy efficiency, with solar water and solar electricity. He’s built a hardwood pergola down the west side of the house which hosts a grapevine that shades the house in summer. It’s the first of many clever structural innovations he has installed in his garden using mostly recycled materials.

Compost System:

The three-bay compost system is built from recycled roof sheets and brick pallets. Liquid from the back of the bays runs and into a well-positioned bucket. Like all the compost, this liquid is then diluted and used on the garden.

Chook House:

The chook house is palatial and has been built using leftovers from the renovation. It’s both vermin and fox proof, and he used the old front door as the human entrance.

Irrigation:

Rainwater is captured across the site, stored and cleverly distributed. Mike has four tanks positioned around the garden that collectively hold 27,000 litres of water. The garden is irrigated via overhead driplines and tank overflows are redirected to garden beds. Storm water from the driveway is redirected into a set of pipes that are re-directed into the garden.

The entire back lawn was dug up to create swales (a series of contoured ditches) designed to slow down water flow and hold it in the soil.

There’s was a rocky outcrop in the backyard where water naturally collected into a pond. Mike has since bricked in the pond, added a bathtub for an outdoor pool for the kids and then found a bathroom basin which he turned into a bird bath.

Wicking Beds:

Mike has made wicking beds from second hand bulk containers. One is used as a liquid fertiliser brewer and the other four have been chopped in half to make 8 wicking beds. The sides of the wicking beds are protected from the sun with recycled zinc aluminium panels take from a roof. The wicking beds are placed in an ‘exclusion zone’, that has been covered with netting to prevent fruit fly, possums and rats making off with the produce.

For Mike, the journey of the garden is infinitely more important than the destination. He’s learnt a lot on the way and is keen to keep learning. It’s inspiring to see what can be achieved in such a short space of time and what will follow, as Mike’s sustainable gardening journey continues to grow.

Featured Plants:

SYDNEY GREEN WATTLE - Acacia decurrens *

THYME - Thymus vulgaris cv.

PINEAPPLE SAGE - Salvia elegans

SILVERBEET - Beta vulgaris cv.

PEACH ‘FLORDAGOLD’ - Prunus persica cv.

QUINCE - Cydonia oblonga cv.

BASIL ‘PERENNIAL’ - Ocimum cv.

FENNEL - Foeniculum vulgare cv. *

* Check before planting: this may be an environmental weed in your area

Filmed on Dharug Country | Mount Colah, NSW

#gardening australia #Solarpunk #Australia #sustainable home #garden #home #house #sustainable house #food forest #no dig gardening #Dharug Country #Mount Colah #NSW #composting #rain water #rainwater harvesting #Youtube

[whileiamdying]

Barry Humphries (Dame Edna to You, Possums) Is Dead at 89

Bewigged, bejeweled and bejowled, Mr. Humphries’s creation was one of the longest-lived characters ever channeled by a single performer.

Barry Humphries as Dame Edna Everage in the one-person show “Dame Edna: Back With a Vengeance” at the Music Box Theater on Broadway in 2004. Credit... Sara Krulwich

by Margalit Fox April 22, 2023Updated 12:35 p.m. ET

Oh, Possums, Dame Edna is no more.

To be unflinchingly precise, Barry Humphries, the Australian-born actor and comic who for almost seven decades brought that divine doyenne of divadom, Dame Edna Everage, to delirious, dotty, disdainful Dadaist life, died on Saturday in Sydney. He was 89.

His death was confirmed by the hospital where he had spent several days after undergoing hip surgery. In a tribute message posted on Twitter, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese of Australia praised Mr. Humphries as “a great wit, satirist, writer and an absolute one-of-kind.”

A stiletto-heeled, stiletto-tongued persona who might well have been the spawn of a ménage à quatre involving Oscar Wilde, Salvador Dalí, Auntie Mame and Miss Piggy, Dame Edna was not so much a character as a cultural phenomenon, a force of nature trafficking in wicked, sequined commentary on the nature of fame.

For generations after the day she first sprang to life on the Melbourne stage, Dame Edna reigned, bewigged, bejeweled and bejowled, one of the longest-lived characters to be channeled by a single performer. She toured worldwide in a series of solo stage shows and was ubiquitous on television in the United States, Britain, Australia and elsewhere.

A master improviser (many of Dame Edna’s most stinging barbs were ad-libbed) with a face like taffy, Mr. Humphries was widely esteemed as one of the world’s foremost theatrical clowns.

“I’ve only seen one man have power over an audience like that,” the theater critic John Lahr told him, after watching Dame Edna night after night in London. “My father.” Mr. Lahr’s father was the great stage and cinematic clown Bert Lahr.

Mr. Humphries conceived Edna in 1955 as Mrs. Norm Everage, typical Australian housewife. “Everage,” after all, is Australian for “average.”

Housewife, Superstar, National Treasure

But Edna soon became a case study in exorbitant amour propre, lampooning suburban pretensions, political correctness and the cult of celebrity, and acquiring a damehood along the way. A “housewife-superstar,” she called herself, upgrading the title in later years to “megastar” and, still later, to “gigastar.”

Mr. Humphries as Dame Edna, wearing a hat in the shape of the Sydney Opera House, in 1976. Credit... Wesley/Getty Images

In Britain, where Mr. Humphries had long made his home, Dame Edna was considered a national treasure, a paragon of performance art long before the term was coined.

In the United States, she starred in a three-episode series, “Dame Edna’s Hollywood,” a mock celebrity talk show broadcast on NBC in the early 1990s, and was a frequent guest on actual talk shows.

She performed several times on Broadway, winning Mr. Humphries a special Tony Award, as well as Drama Desk and Theater World Awards, for “Dame Edna: The Royal Tour,” his 1999 one-person show.

In her stage and TV shows, written largely by Mr. Humphries, Dame Edna typically made her entrance tottering down a grand staircase (Mr. Humphries was more than six feet tall) in a tsunami of sequins, her hair a bouffant violet cloud (she was “a natural wisteria,” she liked to say), her evening gown slit to the thigh to reveal Mr. Humphries’s surprisingly good legs, her body awash in jewels, her eyes agape behind sprawling rhinestone glasses (“face furniture,” she called them).

Addressing the audience, she delivered her signature greeting, “Hellooooo, Possums!”

By turns tender and astringent, Dame Edna called audience members “possums” often. She also called them other things, as when, leaning across the footlights, she would address a woman in the front row in a confiding, carrying voice: “I know, dear. I used to make my own clothes, too.”

Mr. Humphries with the English actress Joan Plowright at the Lyric Theater in London. Credit... Evening Standard/Getty Images

Performances concluded with Dame Edna flinging hundreds of gladioli into the crowd, no mean feat aerodynamically. “Wave your gladdies, Possums!” she exhorted audience members who caught them, and the evening would end, to music, with a mass valedictory swaying.

Between the “Hellooooo” and the gladdies, Dame Edna’s audiences were treated to a confessional monologue deliciously akin to finding oneself stranded in a hall of vanity mirrors.

There was commentary on her husband and children (“I made a decision: I put my family last”); her beauty regimen (“Good self-esteem is very important. I look in the mirror and say, ‘Edna, you are gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous’”); and the constellation of luminaries who routinely sought her counsel, among them Queen Elizabeth II and her family. (“I’ve had to change my telephone number several times to stop them ringing me.”)

Dame Edna’s TV shows were often graced by actual celebrity guests, including Zsa Zsa Gabor, Charlton Heston, Sean Connery, Robin Williams and Lauren Bacall.

They came in for no less of a drubbing than the audience did, starting with the inaugural affront, the affixing of immense name tags to their lapels — for eclipsed by the light of gigastardom so close at hand, who among us would not be reduced to anonymity?

“Chuck,” Mr. Heston’s name tag read. Ms. Gabor received two: a “Zsa” for the right shoulder and a “Zsa” for the left.

A few pleasantries were exchanged before Dame Edna moved in for the kill.

“You’ve had nine hits this year,” she purred fawningly at the singer-songwriter Michael Bolton on one of her British TV shows. “On your website.”

Turning to the audience after delivering a particularly poisonous insult, she would ooze, “I mean that in the most caring way.”

Those guests who emerged relatively unscathed had the savvy to take Dame Edna at face value and interact with her as though she were real. The moment he donned those rhinestone glasses, Mr. Humphries often said, Dame Edna became real to him too, an entirely separate law unto herself.

‘I Wish I’d Thought of That’

“I’m, as it were, in the wings, and she’s onstage,” he explained in a 2015 interview with Australian television. “And every now and then she says something extremely funny, and I stand there and think, ‘I wish I’d thought of that.’”

But the truly funny thing, Possums, is that when Mr. Humphries first brought Dame Edna to life, he intended her to last only a week or so. What was more, she was meant to have been played by the distinguished actress Zoe Caldwell.

Mr. Humphries created a string of other characters over the years, notably the boorish, bibulous Australian cultural attaché Sir Les Patterson. But it was Dame Edna, the outlandish aunt who engenders adoration and mortification in equal measure, who captivated the public utterly — despite the fact that in later years, her mortification-inducing lines sometimes landed her, and her creator, in trouble.

So fully did Mr. Humphries animate Edna that he was at continued pains to point out that he was neither a female impersonator in the conventional sense nor a cross-dresser in any sense.

“Mr. Humphries, do you ever have to take your children aside and explain to them why you like to wear women’s clothes?” an American interviewer once asked him.

“If I were an actor playing Hamlet,” he replied, “would I have to take my children aside and say I wasn’t really Danish?’”

By all accounts far more erudite than Dame Edna — he was an accomplished painter, bibliophile and art collector — Mr. Humphries, in a sustained act of self-protection, always spoke of her in the third person.

She did likewise. “My manager,” she disdainfully called him. (She also called Mr. Humphries “a money-grubbing little slug” and accused him of embezzling her fortune. He did, it must be said, cash a great many of her checks.)

But as dismissive of her creator as Dame Edna was, she rallied to his aid when he very likely needed her most: after years of alcoholism culminated in stays in psychiatric hospitals and at least one brush with the law.

Mr. Humphries at the Booth Theater on Broadway in 1999 in “Dame Edna: The Royal Tour,” for which he won a special Tony Award, as well as Drama Desk and Theater World Awards. Credit... Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

‘I Hated Her’

John Barry Humphries was born in Kew, a Melbourne suburb, on Feb. 17, 1934. His father, Eric, was a prosperous builder; his mother, Louisa, was a homemaker.

From his earliest childhood in Camberwell, a more exclusive suburb, he felt oppressed by the bourgeois conformism that enveloped his parents and their circle, and depressed by his mother’s cold suburban propriety.

Dame Edna was a response to those forces.

“I invented Edna because I hated her,” Mr. Humphries was quoted as saying in Mr. Lahr’s book “Dame Edna Everage and the Rise of Western Civilization: Backstage With Barry Humphries” (1992). “I poured out my hatred of the standards of the little people of their generation.”

Dame Edna emerged when the young Mr. Humphries, under the sway of Dadaism, was performing with a repertory company based at the University of Melbourne; he had dropped out of the university two years before.

On long bus tours, he entertained his colleagues with the character of Mrs. Norm Everage — born Edna May Beazley in Wagga Wagga, Australia, sometime in the 1930s — an ordinary housewife who had found sudden acclaim after winning a nationwide competition, the Lovely Mother Quest.

Unthinkable as it seems, Edna was dowdy then, given to mousy brown hair and pillbox hats. But she was already in full command of the arsenal of bourgeois bigotries that would be a hallmark of her later self.

For a revue by the company in December 1955, Mr. Humphries wrote a part for Edna, earmarked for Ms. Caldwell, an Australian contemporary. But when she proved too busy to oblige, he donned a dress and played it himself. After Edna proved a hit with Melbourne audiences, he performed the character elsewhere in the country.

By the end of the 1950s, hoping to make a career as a serious actor, Mr. Humphries had moved to London, where Edna met with little enthusiasm and was largely shelved. (She blamed Mr. Humphries ever after for her lack of early success there.)

Mr. Humphries played Mr. Sowerberry, the undertaker, in the original West End production of the musical “Oliver!” in 1960, and reprised the role when the show came to Broadway in 1963.

But though he worked steadily during the ’60s, he was also in the fierce grip of alcoholism. Stays in psychiatric hospitals, he later said, were of no avail.

His nadir came in 1970, when he awoke in a Melbourne gutter to find himself under arrest.

With a doctor’s help, Mr. Humphries became sober soon afterward; he did not take a drink for the rest of his life. He dusted off Dame Edna and, little by little, de-dowdified her. By the late ’70s, with celebrity culture in full throttle, she had given him international renown and unremitting employment.

Edna did not seduce every critic. Reviewing her first New York stage show, the Off Broadway production “Housewife! Superstar!!,” in The New York Times in 1977, Richard Eder called it “abysmal.”

Nor did Edna’s resolute lack of political correctness always stand her, or Mr. Humphries, in good stead. In February 2003, writing an advice column as Dame Edna in Vanity Fair, he replied to a reader’s query about whether to learn Spanish.

“Who speaks it that you are really desperate to talk to?” Dame Edna’s characteristically caustic response read. “The help? Your leaf blower? Study French or German, where there are at least a few books worth reading, or, if you’re American, try English.”

A public furor ensued, led by the Mexican-born actress Salma Hayek, who appeared on the magazine’s cover that month. Vanity Fair discontinued Dame Edna’s column not long afterward.

In an interview with The Times in 2004, Mr. Humphries was unrepentant.

“The people I offended were minorities with no sense of humor, I fear,” he said. “When you have to explain the nature of satire to somebody, you’re fighting a losing battle.”

Mr. Humphries drew further ire after a 2016 interview with the British newspaper The Telegraph in which he denounced political correctness as a “new puritanism.” In the same interview, he described people who transition from male to female as “mutilated” men, and Caitlyn Jenner in particular as “a publicity-seeking ratbag.”

Sailing Above the Fray

Dame Edna, for her part, appeared to sail imperviously through. She returned to Broadway in 2004 for the well-received show “Dame Edna: Back With a Vengeance” and in 2010 with “All About Me,” a revue that also starred the singer and pianist Michael Feinstein.

Mr. Humphries was back on Broadway as Dame Edna in 2010 with “All About Me,” a revue that also starred the singer and pianist Michael Feinstein.Credit...Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

As herself — it was she, and not Mr. Humphries, who was credited — Dame Edna played the recurring character Claire Otoms (the name is an anagram for “a sitcom role”), an outré lawyer, on the Fox TV series “Ally McBeal.”

Under his own name, Mr. Humphries appeared as the Great Goblin in “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” (2012); as the voice of Bruce, the great white shark, in “Finding Nemo” (2003); and in other pictures.

Mr. Humphries’s books include the memoirs “More Please” (1992) and “My Life as Me” (2002) and the novel “Women in the Background” (1995). He was named a Commander of the British Empire in 2007.

Dame Edna also wrote several books, among them “Dame Edna’s Bedside Companion” (1983) and the memoir “My Gorgeous Life” (1989).

Mr. Humphries’s first marriage, to Brenda Wright, ended in divorce, as did his second, to Rosalind Tong, and his third, to Diane Millstead. He had two daughters, Tessa and Emily, from his marriage to Ms. Tong, and two sons, Oscar and Rupert, from his marriage to Ms. Millstead.

The Sydney Morning Herald reported that his survivors include his wife of 30 years, Lizzie Spender, the daughter of the British poet Stephen Spender, as well as his children and 10 grandchildren.

Mr. Humphries continued to perform until last year, when he toured Britain (as himself) with a one-man show, “The Man Behind the Mask.” He returned to Australia in December for Christmas.

Dame Edna’s husband, Norm, a chronic invalid “whose prostate,” she often lamented, “has been hanging over me for years,” died long ago. Her survivors include an adored son, Kenny, who designed all her gowns; a less adored son, Bruce; and a despised daughter, the wayward Valmai. (“She steals things. Puts them in her pantyhose. Particularly frozen chickens when she’s in a supermarket.”)

Another daughter, Lois, was abducted as an infant by a “rogue koala,” a subject Dame Edna could bring herself to discuss with interviewers only rarely.

Though the child was never seen again, to the end of her life Dame Edna never gave up hope she would be found.

“I’m looking,” she told NPR in 2015. “Every time I pass a eucalyptus tree I look up.”

Constant Meheut contributed reporting.

Margalit Fox is a former senior writer on the obituaries desk at The Times. She was previously an editor at the Book Review. She has written the send-offs of some of the best-known cultural figures of our era, including Betty Friedan, Maya Angelou and Seamus Heaney. More about Margalit Fox

#Barry Humphries #Dame Edna Everage #Edna Everage #Moonie Ponds #Australia #Obituary