<b>Nancy:</b> Mike, do you like Eleven?<p/><b>Mike:</b> That’s disgusting. And wrong. I don’t even get– why would– I’ve never liked anyone, anywhere. It’s none of your- you have- the nerve, the audacity, Eleven is my friend, technically. And she is terrible, face-wise. And how- how- do I know, frankly, that you don't like her? Maybe you do. Maybe you’re trying to throw me off? Hmm check and mate.<p/></p>
i didn’t know what the new group chat snapchat feature did i assumed it just let you send the same snap to several people and that’s the story of how i grouped like seven strangers together in a group chat to watch videos of my cat being combed
The first time he sees her, wearing that dusty blue jacket, face covered in dirt and blood, he feels nothing but anger. It’s bitterness which has built up within him for so long, tearing him apart slowly, surely, steadily—and suddenly he’s snapping.
“Let’s go!” He urges, forcefully and for the second time. They scramble at the sound of his voice. His chest tightens, because he can see the fear wrought across their faces, and even though that’s better than them looking to him with hopes he can’t live up to.
It still hurts.
He can’t believe he’s thinking about this now, of all times, as they run across the grass to his car. Hopper and the curly haired kid get in the front, while the rest pile in the back. Then he’s driving away, as fast as he can, heart beating like a drum against his chest; pulse throbbing; legs shaking.
“Where are we going?” Wheeler demands, leaning forward.
Hopper glances in the rearview mirror. Sinclair sits on the right, the girl in the middle, and Wheeler on the left. They all look pretty worn, a little paranoid, and slightly grimy. The girl’s nose has a blood stain.
“Byers’,” Hopper says, shortly, because that’s all he can manage to get out with her staring right at him.
Mike seems satisfied with this. He sits back and starts talking to the girl—who won’t glance away from the mirror—in hushed tones none of them can hear. It could be the wind speaking.
Hopper drives erratically down the back roads, cutting through a few places. The sun is doing down, turning the sky dark.
As dark as that damn jacket she’s wearing.
“What happened?” Hopper asks of the kid sitting next to him. Henderson, he recalls.
“They found out Eleven was at Mike’s place,” Dustin says. “We had to bolt.”
“Alright,” Hopper had figured as much. He gets his breath back, and slows them down the slightest bit. But then the speedometer needle rises without him doing anything at all.
“Keep going,” says the girl—Eleven—just loud enough for him to hear.
He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to. Doesn’t need to. Shit you can do with your mind, Becky had said. Her baby’s a weapon. Off fighting the commies.
The blood leaves his face. Jesus Christ. It’s true. Of course it’s true. The worst thing was the owl and now there’s this. He should have expected a shit-storm.
He turns into the Byers’ lawn, and they pile out. Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy rush out. Hopper watches the two Wheelers embrace. He can’t feel anything for them. Never had a sibling.
“Is that my dress?” Nancy asks, bemused.
“Doesn’t matter,” Hopper interrupts. Then he’s stripping off his coat and handing it to Eleven, who takes it gingerly. “Put that one on, instead of your jacket. It’s got blood on it.”
That’s not the real reason, of course. The real reason is that he can’t stomach looking at the jacket which so strongly resembles the one Sara was wearing, they day they found out about the cancer.
He turns and walks up the steps, brushing past Joyce, who brings up another whirlwind of memories and makes him feel weak just looking at her. Jesus.
I just saw your lyrics text fail (lololol 👍👍) and I was wondering if you could do MC lyric texting the Mystic messenger song and the RFA++ reaction
God no please don’t I’m gonna cry when I do Seven’s ahhhh ~~ mod stranger
Zen: he loves it. doesn’t really realize you’re lyrics texting at first but he feels all blushy and excited when he reads your messages
Yoosung: he enjoys it at first and then begins to feel a bit suspicious especially when you mention the ‘mysterious messages’ part
Jaehee: she thinks your messages are super cute and they make her really happy for some reason
Jumin: he’s super touched by the messages you send him and doesn’t realize you’re lyrics texting at all
Seven: (oh god i’m going to cry anon whyyy)
he thinks it’s cute at first until it slowly dawns on him who the persona is and it just matches him so much and here you are texting the words to him and he just starts sobbing as you send message after message. he eventually ends up texting you the last verse
If you get mysterious messages, stand by me hold my hand, don’t lose hope, you know why I will never leave you alone
V: he instantly guesses that you’re lyrics-texting and smiles at how cute you are for doing this
Saeran: (okay this is a bit tricky)somehow he feels as though he should be the one sending those instead of you because of how he always felt reading and sending you messages
(Seven’s the longest one of course because I love this song and I love him)
Arya fits in with the Father most, followed by the Warrior and the Maiden (especially given recent chapters, but people like to ignore the sexuality/puberty aspect of Arya’s chapters.) Those all fit her very well if we’re going to try and connect her with one of the Seven at all.
The problem with the Stranger is it is everything Arya’s not. To think she corresponds at all with the Stranger is to ignore the majority of Arya’s characterization and all of her motives.
The Father passes judgement, administers justice. The Warrior fights to the end. The Stranger is a completely cold, uncaring, out-of-society nonperson who takes lives because that’s it’s purpose, because that’s the way of the world, not because of any belief someone deserves to die or even thirst for death. The Stranger doesn’t decide, doesn’t pass judgements- that’s the Father- which is why I’m constantly baffled by this idea that Arya has anything in common with the Stranger.
The Kindly Man wishes! She’s literally failing her Faceless Men training because she can’t be an “instrument of death/god” like the Stranger. She plays the Father/Warrior too often. It really seems to be that people don’t understand what the Stranger represents when they act like there’s some connection between Arya and the Stranger.
Ilyn Payne, Kindly Man, debatably bodyguards/slaves/King’s Justice/Kingsguard, anyone who is a tool rather than acting on their own impulses. And even then that’s a stretch (except maybe the Kindly Man) because people can’t separate their desires from their actions to do that all the time (hello Jaime Lannister, couldn’t stay the tool given the knowledge he had about Aerys and what was to come.)
“He was ever the Imp’s creature. Only the Stranger knows how many men he’s sent to hell at
Tyrion’s behest.” Cersei, AFFC
“At Tyrion’s behest” because the Stranger doesn’t choose, doesn’t work that way. The judgements, the decisions to execute or kill, they’re done by the Warriors and the Fathers. The Stranger is just a representation. It’s kind of like the messenger of death in some ways.
Best yet, why don’t people use the Silent Sisters because they actually are connected with the Stranger in a big way.
“it’s said they are the Stranger’s wives, and their female parts are cold and wet
as ice.” Creighton in Brienne, AFFC
The Silent Sisters don’t kill people, they just collect the bodies. Why would they be associated with the Stranger? Because the Stranger has nothing to do with killing.
Saying the Stranger represents death is misleading. It does, but it doesn’t really represent killing. Killing is a human action, it’s an act serving some purpose (even if just insanity.) The Stranger isn’t that. It isn’t even human really unlike the rest of the gods:
…even the Stranger, carved to look more animal than human. Davos, ACoK
And the seventh face… the Stranger was neither male nor female, yet both, ever the outcast, the
wanderer from far places, less and more than human, unknown and unknowable. Here the face
was a black oval, a shadow with stars for eyes. Catelyn, ACoK
there were even a
few flames dancing below the Stranger’s halfhuman face. Sansa, ACoK
The Stranger in the shadows, his half-human face concealed beneath a hooded mantle. Jaime, AFFC
The Stranger represents Death in the sense of being a Grim Reaper type of figure.
One day she
must light a candle to the Stranger for carrying Renly off and leaving Stannis. Cersei, AFFC
“I anticipate no difficulty. The Crone will light our way, and the Warrior will give strength to
our arms.” Or else the Stranger will turn up for the whole holy lot of you…
The Stranger might have made off with the Goat before Jaime could get around to him, but fat
Zollo was still out there, with Shagwell, Rorge, Faithful Urswyck, and the rest.
“It is too late to go running back. The Stranger waits outside my door and will not be
denied.” Aemon in Sam, AFFC
If you switched the Stranger with “Grim Reaper” in the above lines, it would make sense for most modern societies (the ones who know what that is.) It’s the purest representation of death in that there is no drive, no human motive, nothing to be explained, rationalized, or understood. It’s a force. It is literally referred to as being the kiss of death at times.
“I promise you, she
will be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss.” Cersei, AFFC
It’s not human, it’s “unknown and unknowable”. When people talk about the Stranger, it’s like some death force. It’s oddly the most god-like of the Seven gods.
“And I swear it by the Stranger, may he take me
now if I am false.”. Brienne, AFFC
The best way to simplify the Stranger is to say that it is the transportation to the underworld/heaven or hell. It doesn’t kill you, it plays no part in your death, but when it shows up, you know you’ve died.
It represents death, it doesn’t cause it.
So to say most any human character- especially one as passionate and opinionated as Arya- represents the Stranger misses the meaning.
I just finished watching Stranger Things on Netflix and oh boy, is it good.
There are many things I could say about the show, the photography, production, costumes,the CAST, the MOTHER FUCKING WRITING!!
But what I want to mention right now is how the kids in the story where never underminded by the adults.
The fact that they took things on their own hands was really impressive, but also something that a 12 yo would definitely do. So you didn’t have grown ups telling them it was impossible and they shouldn’t even try.
And whenever they ABSOLUTELY needed an adult to keep going with their investigation, they approached Mr. Clarke (bless him) and would ask him in a “theoretical” way. They disguised their very real, very important questions, with their interest in science; making his teacher help them and, at times, encourage them to keep going (unknowingly of course).
I LOVED the writing and characterization of the show. I think it’s in the second episode when they mention the the boys’ interest in science, it’s part of who they are. I specially loved the scene in the 7th episode when they explain everything to the grown ups, because they know SO MUCH MORE in comparison.
Joyce and Hopper know things thanks to acting on instinct.
Jonathan and Nancy knew stuff through observation and hypothesis.
But this boys, started throwing all this knowledge at them. AND EVERYONE LISTENED!
I mean, how many times do you see something like that? Most of the times you get; a) the kid asking for help and turning into the Adult’s sidekick, b) The kid asking for help, grown ups making fun of them/calling it imagination, the kids proving them wrong.
The fact that they didn’t underestimated the kids, and actually turned them into the smartest group of the show, is, in my opinion, part of the reason this show feels so fresh.
Hats off to the Duffer Brothers and the amazing story they created.
You have trouble sleeping at night, so you climb out of bed and look out your window. You see a blackbird sitting in a tree that wasn’t there before, and the bird looks back at you with small, pitch black eyes. The bird bares its set of pearly
human teeth. You doubt that the bird had those last time you saw it.
It has been raining continuously for four weeks now, and you still can’t determine if the rain is falling down from the sky or up from the earth. The people outside on the street seem to be drowning.
You are on the train. Seven strangers, all carrying the exact same briefcase, enter the compartment. You make sure not to make eye contact, and shift uneasily when one of the seven sits down next to you. They click their briefcases open at the same time and you can see from the corner of your eye how your neighbor is sinking their teeth into a raw pike. Blood gushes out of the pike, more than it should contain. You say nothing when the blood stains your clothes. You wish you hadn’t forgotten your lunch, because your neighbor doesn’t seem willing to share.
“The water sure is rising high lately.” You note as the water reaches your chin. A man called Pieter nods in agreement. He towers far above the surface. You never bothered to ask his exact height, as it seems to change every day.
You ride your bicycle around a town you haven’t visited in years. You’re not worried about getting lost, though, because you can follow the shadows that you left last time you were there. You wonder about the other things you have forgotten, and if the shadows remember them. You hope that they can forgive you for your deeds.
While approaching the old burnt down windmill, black tulips start to sprout from your chest and your teeth fall out one by one. You laugh but make no sound. A sheep’s bleat can be heard from afar, even though you haven’t seen one in years.