CHARACTER PHOTOSET
American Horror Story → Chad Warwick
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Stranger Things
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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@ficklevanity-blog
CHARACTER PHOTOSET
American Horror Story → Chad Warwick
monstralized:
“I know—I don’t care.” I was here for my own reasons. “Stop trying to play nice or whatever it is you’re trying to do here.”
There was a beat of frigid silence before he spoke again. “I was trying to help you, but fine. You end up dead and trapped here? Don’t come crying to me.” In a mere blink, he was gone from sight, the chair he’d been seated in now vacant.
Every hour wounds. The last one kills.
Even nothing cannot last forever.
That’s when I miss you most. When you’re here. When you aren’t here, when you’re just a ghost of the past or a dream from another life, it’s easier then.
There’s never been a true war that wasn’t fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right.
I can believe things that are true and things that aren’t true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they’re true or not.
There’s none so blind as those who will not listen.
I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you’re alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it.
As sure as water’s wet and days are long and a friend will always disappoint you in the end.
I think I would rather be a man than a god.
We just keep going anyhow. It’s what we do.
Don’t start anything you’re not prepared to finish.
You are an analog girl, living in a digital world.
I want to be alive again. Not in this half-life. I want to be really alive.
It’s weird, you don’t think you can feel it, the blood, but believe me, when it stops flowing, you’ll know.
I want to feel my heart pumping in my chest again.
You know why dead people only go out at night? Because it’s easier to pass for real, in the dark.
I believe that anyone who claims to know what’s going on will lie about the little things too.
They might be dirty, and cheap, and their food might taste like shit, but at least they didn’t speak in clichés.
All your questions can be answered, if that is what you want. But once you learn your answers, you can never unlearn them.
Names come and names go.
You’re a God?
I guess it’s just another one of life’s little mysteries.
I’m tired of mysteries.
I’ll be your puppy. What do you want me to do? Chew your slippers? Piss on the kitchen floor? Lick your nose? Sniff your crotch? I bet there’s nothing a puppy can do that I can’t do!
You shine like a beacon in a dark world.
So, how’s death?
Babes. You’re dead.
If Hell is other people, then purgatory is airports.
I think I have heard of her. Isn’t she the one who killed her children?
You got to understand the god thing. It’s not magic.
Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck your mother and fuck the fucking horse you fucking rode in on.
You will not even die in battle.
You will die with a kiss on your lips and a lie in your heart.
The important thing to understand about American history is that it is fictional, a charcoal-sketched simplicity for the children, or the easily bored.
You’re fucked up, Mister. But you’re cool.
I believe that’s what they call the human condition.
I could be blindfolded and dropped into the deepest ocean and I would know where to find you.
You are the only thing I have left, the only thing that isn’t bleak and flat and gray.
I could be buried a hundred miles underground and I would know where you are.
You are the nearest thing I have to life.
They are aware of us, they fear us, and they hate us.
I’m a culture hero.
It’s easier to kill people when you’re dead yourself. I mean, it’s not such a big deal. You’re not so prejudiced any more.
It’s not what I’d want for at my funeral. When I die, I just want them to plant me somewhere warm. And then when the pretty women walk over my grave I would grab their ankles, like in that movie.
You’re walking on gallows ground and there’s a rope around your neck.
A man’s fortune is his own affair.
Gee-word?
They all do the same things. They may think their sins are original, but for the most part they are petty and repetitive.
The joy’s gone out of me like the pee from a small boy in a swimming pool on a hot day.
There are accounts that, if we open our hearts to them, will cut us too deeply.
Goodbyes are overrated.
It’s easy, there’s a trick to it, you do it or you die.
This isn’t about what is. It’s about what people think is.
You can always cheat an honest man, but it takes more work.
What makes you think I’m giving you a ride?
It’s all imaginary anyway.
Mostly you are what they think you are.
If you can’t eat it, drink it, smoke it, or snort it… then fuck it!
Tell me, as a pagan, who do you worship?
Organizing gods is like herding cats into straight lines. They don’t take naturally to it.
You should know that if we do fucking kill you, the we’ll just delete you. You got that? One click and then you’re overwriten with random ones and zeros. Undelete is not an option.
You are so full of shit. It’s a wonder your eyes don’t turn brown.
Information and knowledge: two currencies that have never gone out of style.
People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales.
Don’t knock the guys on death row.
You see, the outcome of the battle is unimportant. What matters is the chaos, and the slaughter.
Liberty is a bitch who must be bedded on a mattress of corpses.
He showed me a coin trick I don’t remember how to do, gave me some bruises, and claimed he was a leprechaun.
We do not always remember the things that do no credit to us.
Too much talking these days. Talk talk talk. This country would get along much better if people learned how to suffer in silence.
You musn’t be afraid of the dark.
I’m afraid of the people in the dark.
I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating.
Believe everything.
Only the gods are real.
Patrick is vain with a capital V A I N. He has a strict skincare regime made up of moisturizers, serums, and scrubs from the best Korean companies. He goes to the gym at least five if not six times a week and fixes most of his own meals for optimal nutrition. His style seems strangely understated, but he doesn’t like his clothes to outshine his looks.
IN LIFE & DEATH
My name is David Wong. My best friend is John. Those names are fake. You might want to change yours.
THE IMPORTANT THING IS THIS:
The drug is called Soy Sauce, and it gives users a window into another dimension.
John and I never had the chance to say no.
You still do.
an independent venture into the john dies at the end franchise, written by the illustrious existent mo.
est. 2013
graphic credit: this is all because of swid
monstralized:
“How much do you think I know?” I knew more than he thought I knew for sure. “Doesn’t matter. Fact of it is, I know about shit like this–so don’t assume you guys are the the baddest gang on the block.” Well, maybe on this block.
“Are you saying we have actual competition on the Eternal Darkness tour?” The words came complete with a light layer of sarcasm. “I’m just trying to warn you. This place messes with you--and it’s not just the spirits.”
monstralized:
My eyes narrowed as I stared him down, “Trust me, I’ve dealt with way worse than the likes of whatever is lurking in this shithole of a mansion. Your little roommates don’t freak me out.“
“They should.” As much as those words could sound like a threat, he meant them as a warning. Patrick leaned back against the wall, arms loosely folded over his chest. “How much do you actually know about this place?”
@monstralized
continued from X
“Because I haven’t heard that one before.” I rolled my eyes at the apparition, “I think I can handle my spirits.”
“If you were talking about drinks, I’d believe that.” Condescension dripped off his words, but there was a strange weight to them as well: a foreboding. “But how many ghosts do you know that can kill the living?”
“ I like you. You’ve got what the kids these days call moxie. ”
FX LEGION STARTERS // accepting
“Moxie? You sound like some guy from a 90s movie.“ But a compliment was a compliment, no matter from what era, and his features visibly soften by degrees of concern. Moxie was one thing; murderous intent another. Of the spirits of the house, Patrick was more bark than bite. The ones like Tate---they were cause of so much suffering, and this house grew more crowded by the passing years. “I’m not the only one in here that’s got it. You shouldn’t hang around this place. There’s nothing you’re going to gain from it.”
FX LEGION SENTENCE STARTERS. may contain spoilers. feel free to adjust to fit muse !!
“ I have to know. Is this real? ”
“ That’s just low, son. ”
“ Don’t worry about me. It’s you that’s got problems. ”
“ They’re coming and they’re gonna kill you. ”
“ I know - I’m dead - you killed me. And I gotta say, not cool, man. ”
“ Don’t give a newbie a bazooka and then be surprised when she blows shit up. ”
“ If the readings are right, he may be the most powerful mutant that we’ve ever encountered. ”
“ Why are all the hots ones so crazy? ”
“ Do you wanna be my girlfriend? ”
“ Careful. I bite. ”
“ Please keep talking, so we can pretend that our problems are all in our heads. ”
“ I like you. You’ve got what the kids these days call moxie. ”
“ All I’m saying is, what if your problems aren’t in your head. What if they aren’t even problems? ”
“ Something new needs to happen - soon. ”
“ On the plus side I’ve mastered eating with a spoon. ”
“ And honestly, all I really need is your body. And your mind? Well, I could give a shit about your mind. ”
“ Look, I know you’re just trying to help, but this just doesn’t for some reason feel real. ”
“ My whole life is a lie. I just need to know—who am I? ”
“ It wears a human face. Be careful, he wears a human face. ”
“ He doesn’t seem fragile, not since he came back. ”
“ We can’t lose him. ”
“ Who teaches us to be normal when we’re one of a kind? ”
“ It’ll be fun. Kick some ass. Save the girl. Get a snack. ”
“ I think I know what I am. ”
“ I’m the magic man. ”
“ I met your husband. He was a beat poet? ”
“ Monster as metaphor: I like it, but wrong. ”
“ Because we’re at war, and we’re losing. ”
“ It’s sweet, really. They think they can save you. ”
“ What are you doing, kid? You think you’re safe here? With these clowns? ”
“ Why are you doing this? You’re supposed to be my friend. ”
“ Could you, maybe, not break everything this time? ”
“ I’m not gonna promise that. ”
“ We’re having a romance of the mind. ”
“ ____, I think I killed your friend. I’m so sorry. ”
“ We could give God a run for his money, right? ”
“ I knew your father, did you know that? Your real father. ”
“ He makes me laugh, and I keep him safe. ”
“ I was sick. But I’m not sick anymore. ”
“ Who are we if not the stories we tell ourselves? ”
“ ____. You’re freaking out. Stop it. ”
“ I needed you and you left me. ”
“ What is the point of life? All of you running around trying to what? Be happy? Fulfilled? You tell me. ”
“ I came back for you, I love you. ”
heya everybody. I’d love to get some things started on here, so consider this post a PLOTTING CALL. You like the post and I’ll come hit you up via IM to figure out something for our muses to do.
….long lean casual lean, yummiest arms I ever seen.
monstralized:
“Have you ever tried scaring anyone before? I mean, postmortem.” I barely missed a beat, a small taste of said fear niggling at the back of my neck. Not fear, alarm. He had popped out of nowhere on me. That was supposed to be alarming. No, Patrick didn’t scare me. And neither did his hollow threats.
“Because…you don’t seem very good at it. Unless you put on some Hugo Boss, if you know what I’m trying to get at.” I was staring up at him, challenging him to try something, anything–any kind of retaliation. “I’m saying you look like a member of the Aryan race. Or brotherhood, or whatever.”
“—Also that, yes, I do want to keep this up.“
Rage began boiling up in him, startling in its ferocity. It’d been so long since he’d felt anything so strongly---something so truly human. If this guy wanted to play this little game, for once, Patrick was more than ready to oblige. A low thrum began underneath the floorboards, a subtle tremor like the beginning of an earthquake. The light fixtures flared with light, overloading the bulbs and sending a spray of glass from every socket. Voices started in a cacophony of whispers and grew into a symphony of screams. It took little to coax the other damned souls of this house to lend their words, and they came in curses, warnings, and out right threats. Many of them had been trapped for decades longer than he had, and their anger had taken years to distill. Flames spontaneously licked up from the baseboards, raced up the wallpaper, and scorched holes in the curtains. In the space of a blink, Patrick reappeared in front of David, shoving him backward and pinning him against the front door. “Can’t you feel it? No one wants you here.”
@monstralized
It was easy to live and let live. . .when the living didn’t go out of their way to pester the restless dead. The murder house always got its fair share of rubber neckers from the Eternal Darkness tour, but few dared get closer than the front door when no one else was looking. Even less actually broke in when the house was on the market---- Except for this asshole. Once could be considered a ballsy incident. More than twice was an annoying hobby in his book. Manifesting at the top of the stairs, he leaned against the guard rail, watching the man crossing the foyer.
“You sure you want to keep this up? Honestly, I’m getting ready to go Beetlejuice on your ass if you don’t get out.”
Goes to the gym at least six times a week. Wears both shoes with no socks on his feet. And I hear he's on a new diet and watches what he eats.
a couple things of note since I’m about to go on a following spree: - I still have a lot of things to do for this blog so forgive the mess. - I’m rewatching the season since I haven’t seen it in ages so I may be a little rusty on some Murder House events. - I’m super hype about this blog so pls love me.