#and i don’t. but like. it’s a weird thing to distinguish i guess

[ftwdb]

Don’t say go.

Chapter 18.

Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content, violence, non-graphic description/implications of SA, child abuse and domestic violence. References to addiction. Unhealthy love/obsession/relationships. Soulmate AU. Eventual smut. Love Triangle!

It’s dark by the time you feel the strength of The Pull reaching its peak, and you know what that means. You look around into the darkness. In the wastes there isn’t much besides stretches of empty barren land and mountains in the distance. You know you’re not yet at your destination which can only mean one thing; the boy with the flag was headed toward you too.

You see twin lights in the distance. A car headed toward you. Eventually you stop in the middle of the road and just wait. The lights get closer until they shine on your windscreen and you both sit, unmoving, just waiting for the other to make the first move.

You cut the truck’s engine and step out.

The boy does the same. The light of your vehicles illuminate the night just enough that you can make each other out in the darkness.

The boy steps forward enough so that he is thrown into view and you can see the warm brown of his eyes, his features which are so different from Troy’s, softer but still strong.

You hesitate. Your gun is tucked in the back of your jeans and your fingers twitch.

The boy speaks.

“Hi… I’m Nick.”

You don’t say anything, you just keep watching until he clears his throat as if a little unsure of himself.

“You came alone?” he asks.

You could have kicked yourself. Coming alone had been a risk but now that he was here, in the middle of nowhere, and no one knew where you’d gone, you realised how vulnerable you’d left yourself.

“For now,” you answered him flatly. At least if you were vague about whether you had people with you it might make him have second thoughts if he was planning anything…

The boy waits a beat before trying again.

“I guess you felt it too then…”

You don’t want to say the words out loud so you simply nod your head. The boy, Nick, continues.

“I thought I was going crazy at first. I never thought I’d find my… find you. Feel it, you know?”

You frown at this. Everyone worries they’ll never find their soulmate but something in his voice captures your attention. It’s less that he’s worried about the odds and more… something you can’t quite distinguish.

“Why?” you ask.

Nick hesitated before shrugging a little.

“That’s a… it doesn’t matter. What matters now is that I found you. It feels… weird. Don’t you think?”

Perhaps if you hadn’t already had the experience with Troy you would agree. But you didn’t want him to know that Troy was your soulmate and so you don’t answer his question.

“Look I came here to warn you. Some of the people from my community are coming back tonight to finish what they started. You need to tell your people to run.”

Nick frowns at this information.

“We agreed to a truce-“

You shake your head in annoyance. You don’t want to explain all this. You want him to just listen to your warning and leave so you can forget about whatever this mistake is between you both and go home, go back to Troy.

“They’re acting of their own accord. Some of the men have certain… loyalties. This isn’t about protecting their home, it’s about revenge.”

Nick is watching you closely now and you don’t like the way his eyes are roaming over you. You freeze. You wonder if he can feel your emotions just like you can with Troy. You reach out in the same way you do with Troy and try to find Nick, to feel what he feels… there’s nothing. Just the regular sense of The Pull.

“You’re warning me because of this feeling between us? You came looking for me because of it.”

You shake your head growing more frustrated as all you want to do is head back before Mike and the others see you out here.

“I don’t have time to explain myself. You have to get your people and go far away from here. Don’t come back.”

Nick’s eyes widen as he realises you have no intention of staying with him.

“But… you have to come with me. When I left earlier, after I saw you, it felt like my heart was being-“

“It doesn’t matter.” You say quickly, all too familiar with that pain. “I can’t come. I won’t go with you. But I don’t want you to die either so, please, leave.”

Nick is staring at you incredulously.

“I can’t do that.”

You actually growl from your frustration with him.

“Why!?”

“Because,” Nick says as he steps closer. You take a large step away from him. You can’t risk him getting too close, having him touch you. You don’t know what will happen.

“I just found you. I can’t walk away!” he continues.

“Then run! Drive! Fucking skip for all I care! If you stay, you die. Not that I care-“

“That’s a lie.” Nick cuts you off quickly. “Soulmates need each other. Hearts literally break when they lose one another. So why… why are you denying this?”

You swallow nervously and look at the truck. You could just get back in and drive away, but what if he follows? You have a feeling he would. He seems the type. Reckless and stubborn.

“I… it’s complicated.”

You say, and you hate how pathetic that sounds.

“‘It’s Complicated’ used to be a Facebook status.” Nick quips. “Tell me the truth. Why run from me?”

“I’m not!”

“Then what are you running from!? Or… wait… what are you going back to?”

You clench your jaw as Nick slowly starts to put the pieces together in his head.

“You have someone-“

“No.”

“A boyfriend? Fiancé?”

“No! No one!”

“Your home then, your community. You’re worried this would cause a problem. Conflict? But maybe it could help solve the bad blood between us! Two soulmates who find each other on opposites sides-“

“This isn’t bloody Romeo and Juliet, Nick!”

He grins and it makes you want to slap the beautiful smile off his face.

“You’re hardly Juliet sweetheart.”

You snarl, your anger beginning to erupt. Why won’t he just listen! Why make this so complicated!

“Whatever! Just get in your car and drive away Romeo!”

Nick laughs and it’s almost like he’s enjoying this.

“Oh the universe is truly a bitch. I didn’t think I’d find my soulmate because I didn’t deserve one. But maybe I do. It’s ironic that she would hate me, a poetic kind of punishment I guess…”

Your expression eases but doesn’t soften as you listen to him ramble. Hate? You didn’t hate him…

“Why would you be punished?” you ask, your senses on alert in case this was the part where he confesses to being a serial killer or something.

Nick shrugs again.

“If you got to know me, you’d understand.”

You shake your head again with a weary sigh.

“You don’t listen do you.”

Nick steps forward again and this time the light moves so he’s back in the shadows with you.

“I could… but you’d need to actually tell me something for me to hear it. Something besides “run away” because that isn’t happening.”

You swear at him and he smirks.

“We don’t have time. Your people will be killed.”

Nick rubs his hand over the back of his neck and it finally seems to dawn on him, he has other responsibilities. Other people to protect.

“When are your people attacking?”

“They’re leaving the ranch around midnight, so probably by the early hours of the morning. Before sunrise though.”

“Element of surprise, cover of darkness. They’re smart.”

“And well armed. So will you listen to me now?”

Nick stares at you for a few seconds and you almost believe he’d let his people risk being slaughtered instead of going back to warn them.

“Fine.”

You blink at him.

“Fine?”

“That’s what I said. I’ll go back. I’ll warn them.”

“And you’ll run? You can’t fight back, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Look I can’t promise anything… we have some stubborn members of our group and they might not take the truce being broken well-“

“The truce isn’t broken. It’s just a small group-“

“Still breaking the truce. Still disobeying your leader, right?”

You bite your tongue. Jeremiah wasn’t their “leader” officially but he was as good as.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess. So what? You’ll go back and they’ll try to defend themselves?”

Nick shrugs again.

“If they think it’s more beneficial than running.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I’m getting a damn headache.”

For some reason this amuses Nick.

“Head rub?”

Your look at him is deadly and he sniggers.

“Joking. Lighten up. Look, I’ll go back and do what I can to stop anymore death. But I can’t promise anything. We lost people. The guy who was in charge came at us like a demon. We didn’t stand a chance…”

Your stomach twists as Nick talks about Troy.

“You want revenge?”

Nick’s expression blanks out and you recognise the perfectly controlled mask on his face. You’d used it yourself before.

“Me? No. But there are those who do.”

“Then convince them their lives aren’t worth it. Tonight is not their night to die. Please… no more death.”

Your voice breaks as you finish your sentence and Nick tilts his head at you. You look away, hating that you’d let some vulnerability slip through.

“Who’d you lose?”

You take a slow breath and shake your head.

“Doesn’t matter. Just… do what you can. And if you can’t save them… save yourself at least.”

Nick looks like he wants to say more. He looks pained.

“Can I… see you again?”

It’s almost laughable. Like a schoolboy asking out his crush. You place your hand on the door of the truck and grip it tight as you give him a firm “no” and turn away before you can see the look on his face.

You slide into your truck and slam the door, locking it before turning in the engine. This was for the best. You didn’t know what else to do. There had been some mistake and maybe Nick had another soulmate out there somewhere too? You hoped so… you didn’t want him to be in pain.

You hear a tap at the window and you look over to see Nick still standing there, motioning for you to wind it down. You do, only a few inches so you can hear him speak.

Nick pauses as he looks you over before speaking.

“It’s him, isn’t it.”

You frown and Nick elaborates.

“The guy who attacked us. The one who was hurt. He’s why you won’t stay with me.”

You feel your stomach drop. Your hands clench on the wheel as you grit your teeth.

“His name is Troy.”

“Troy…” Nick repeats and you hear the sadness and disappointment in his voice. “Well, you must love him a lot to choose him over your soulmate.”

You avoid his eyes still and stare straight ahead until the light from his car burns your eyes.

Nick continues.

“… I hope he makes it, for your sake. And… I want you to know it wasn’t me. I didn’t hurt him.”

You nod, not that it would have mattered. As much as you loved Troy you could understand he’d made a choice that led to his own injuries. Even if he’d done it to protect you… you hated that the blood that had been spilt was on your hands too now.

“I have to go,” you say emptily and put the truck into reverse.

Nick steps back just in time to save his foot being run over as you reverse and turn, glancing back to see his shadow in the headlights as you drive back home. Back to Troy. Back to where your heart felt complete as you tried to ignore how it felt as if you’d just left a piece of it in the darkness behind you…

[batw1nggg]

ive always interpreted postgame hajime/izuru as for the most part separate entities but with a degree of fluidity too (some days they can communicate some days they cant, they can very distinctively tell who’s fronting some days and some days they can’t at all, some memories they share and some memories they don’t and some memories may get mixed up between the two etc etc) but ive always liked to think that komaeda, with his freakishly observant nature, teaches himself how to clock which one is which pretty accurately.

hajime doesn’t always tie his tie evenly, izuru always ties it perfect. izuru always sits with either the worst or best posture youve ever seen, hajime is always somewhere in between. only hajime seems to wear casual clothes. if the tie color is any different from the usual green, that’s izuru. izuru styles his hair a bit neater, and if they’re overdue for a trim, izuru’s probably been fronting for a while. hajime likes his coffee fairly dark, izuru likes it with 10 spoonfuls of sugar.

so using this he can also tell when one is masking as the other (usually it’s izuru masking as hajime because he doesn’t want to deal with everyone —save for komaeda —being an ass/generally weird to him unprompted. theyre still working on that. but hajime has his reasons sometimes too). hajime’s tie is a little too perfect today. he’s being slightly quieter than usual. he recoiled when kazuichi leaned in to clap him on the back — but only slightly. no one else would’ve noticed.

sometimes these conflicting tells don’t indicate one pretending to be the other, but a more merged state. distinguishing that tends to have a larger margin of error, but when one masks as the other, usually the tells are consistently towards one or the other, and when they’re more merged then the tells are mixed (wearing casual clothes but having neat hair but having hajime’s posture but having izuru’s sweet tooth for example).

a couple years postgame i think komaeda learns to tell when they’re talking in headspace too, based on the tiny little changes in expression when they zone out. to tell WHAT theyre talking about komaeda definitely needs situational context (ex: if hajime randomly zones out while youre talking to him, izuru’s probably commenting on something you or he said. given enough context, komaeda can even guess what izuru says too), but he can usually at least tell when theyre talking. hajime’s subconscious facial expressions are more obvious then izuru’s, but if izuru’s brows are a little furrowed while he’s zoned out then they’re talking, and if his face is completely neutral then he’s just zoned out.

of course komaeda is wrong sometimes, because things aren’t that simple. but he tends to be freakishly accurate. once he picks up on who’s who that day, he’ll walk up and refer to them by name and get it right first try and no one knows how. sometimes komaeda only needs to see the back of him for a second or two before he can tell (that’s already three things he can observe: hair, posture, and if the back of the tie is tucked under the shirt collar properly. hajime usually forgets to check that). or sometimes he’ll go “does izuru want to add something?” if he can tell they’re talking to each other and everyone is like how could you tell.

the freakish observation is returned on hajime and izuru’s part of course, but it’s different because komaeda is no Ultimate Analyst or anything. it’s just a gay tendency.

[eddieintheocean]

cuils

ok so if anyone's heard of cuil theory i wrote a marine biology themed set of cuils. (linked for an explanation of what they are)

trigger warning for: horror, existential dread and such, mentions of blood, and ALOT of corpses and dead bodies, and death in general

if you can guess the marine biology metaphor/theme you can have a metaphorical brownie.

0 cuils

You return home from a long journey. You’re tired and lay down to rest on your soft bed. You sleep better than you have in years.

it gets weird from here on :)

1 cuil

Your bed has moved to the living room. How did it get there? The room has a thick layer of dust covering it. You’ve tracked mud into the carpet, although it was already thick with ageless grime. The position of the bed doesn’t bother you. You’re still home, after all. Sinking into the bed, you fall asleep.

2 cuils

Something about your bed feels … off. It’s nothing you can place exactly. Maybe the mattress is harder than it used it be, maybe the bodies are rotting faster than they should be. They’re entangled in the sheets. If they weren’t decomposing, you’d think they were dreaming. When you get into the covers, a body slides limply onto the grimy carpet. An arm detaches from the hinge easily. It disturbs the dust on the carpet, rising up into the air in small vortexes. Food crumbs and plastic bags rise up with it. You ignore it all, too tired to really pay attention. Your journey has come to an end, as it always must, and always will. 

3 cuils

Water lapping at your body jerks you awake. You weren’t meant to wake up. Why can you see the beams of sunlight streaming up into the sky? This wasn’t meant to happen. The water is cold against your skin. The bed won’t stay afloat for long, the red fleshy mattress oozes blood where you touch it. Blood pools into the water, attracting things to nibble at the bed and your fingers as you sink deeper into the flowing currents. This is the way it is meant to be, isn’t it? Are you not happy to fulfil your purpose? The bed frame reaches the floor smoothly. Grime rises from the sediment in small vortexes. A corpse floats up to the surface. The water smothers you suffocatingly, but it isn’t painful. The water feels like home. You feel your nose and mouth fill with water, and your body floats. You sleep well.

4 Cuils

You’re back in the river and you’re dying. There is no bed to support you anymore, just hundreds of other bodies like yours, dying or already dead long ago. They’re swimming around hopelessly, over and under each other. The river does not have the space to support you all. Many are trying to complete their mission before they die permanently. Some have given up or have been trapped on the banks of the river.

A body turns to you. It’s a bloated corpse, like all the others.

A BODY: It feels good, doesn’t it? To have a function.

You want to reply. You want to agree. Your mouth moves, opening and closing. Don’t bother trying to make a sound. It’s too late for you now. You’ve done your job and now it’s over. You flop around uselessly. Your limbs are not cooperating anymore. You should feel fear if you were capable of it. More bodies speak. You cannot distinguish the voices from each other. You wish they would shut up and let you rest.

A BODY: Swim fast, swim fast.

A BODY: Greet the water willingly.

A BODY: Join us.

A BODY: I’m glad we met again. It was nice coming home.

You move your lifeless head as well as you can. A pathetic nod. It’s all you can manage at this stage. You joined the corpses long ago, it’s a miracle that you’re even thinking. The first body looks at you. You look at the body. Like a mirror image, you both close your eyes and sleep.

5 cuils

You’re… home. What is a home anyway? You were born here, and you’ll die here. That’s what a home is. You open the door and fall through the opening. A gaping pit greets you with comforting arms. You’re tired and welcome the fall. You wanted to sleep, but the bed was in the garden. The house was never there. It vanished as you opened the door. I think the gust of wind made you fall. Why would you choose to fall down the hole? Who would even do that?

The pit ends in a dank pool of water. You sink to the ground. Fish tear at your skin and you welcome it. Join the grime and the dirt. Join it, and sleep.

6 cuils

The trolley will roll down the hill. You will be tied to the front. The legs and arms of something else will be tied to you. You won’t know how you got these new limbs. The trolley will roll uncontrolled down the hill. You won’t see the end until it’s too late. Maybe there will be a river to greet you. Wouldn’t that be nice? Wind will batter your face like an uncaring friend. 

Why are you having these thoughts? You have never seen a trolley. What even is a trolley and what is a hill? What are legs and what are arms? What is a friend and what is the wind? Will you ever learn what these things are? All you know is your journey. You left your home, and you returned home. You’re so tired. This journey will be so tiring. You want to sleep. Will you ever sleep?

7 cuils

Your bed is where it belongs, but someone else is using it. It’s you. You’re using it. But you’re here, standing, so how can you be using it? The journey has been long and you’re fucking exhausted. It seems you already fell asleep in your bed. It doesn’t feel like your bed. You push your body out of bed and take its place. It falls to the ground into the disgusting carpet. It falls face flat into the tar rising, seeping out of the floorboards. The tar consumes your body as you watch from the bed. The tar brings more bodies through the floor. You don’t recognise any of them. Faceless corpses rotting and rotting and rotting. That will be you soon. It’s already you, can’t you see? Just accept it’s going to be you no matter what you do. The bed grows tar, enveloping you. You close your eyes. You don’t want to see your body on the floor as the tar eats away at it. Sleep seems nice, doesn’t it. The bodies are sleeping. You’re a body, aren’t you?

[tiredmamaissy]

Writing smut about Neteyam is just wrong. Even if he is aged up, doing that so you can write it is still weird. Stick to Jake Sully and adults, but this isn’t right. Don’t ignore this.

Aging Up of Characters

All characters in my literature are adults, in terran and human years. Meaning, when I'm writing them I see them as adults. Therefore, I will portray them as such - mentally, physically, culturally, etc. Although my blog is an nsfw blog, I include their character development outside of smut. Moreover, age isn't really counted on pandora. Na'vi age quicker than humans do and experience a plateau until their senior years (which they can live for well over a hundred years). What really matters to the na'vi is passing their iknimaya - that's what makes them an adult (ready for a mate, etc).

Anyways, this isn't necessarily my main point, but it's something to keep in mind going forward.

Now, I know James Cameron did such an amazing job at portraying these aliens in a light that us humans can really relate to them, didn't he? To the point where perhaps we could start applying our own laws to them. I guess that's why it's so hard for people to really differentiate the two species sometimes :) but, you know, the na'vi are humanoid aliens, after all. aliens that have their own way of life and biology? that live on another planet? that doesn't exist? are we forgetting that these are fictional characters or something?

Most importantly, their actors are of age, yes? Yes. So I don't personally see the issue here. I can distinguish that characters and actors are not synonymous, but my point is, if their actors were underage that would be a different story. Yes, I am also aware of their age when avatar was filmed. But, they grew up - much like their fictional characters will in the next movie. Everyone was once a child - everyone grows up.

I do my upmost best to tag my fictions properly and thoroughly. If there are any fictions that you feel I may not have tagged correctly, feel free to let me know. I have no issue with being corrected, I would honestly love to be corrected. My intention is never to cause harm to anyone. If you don't like this type of content - which is totally fine and your right - I strongly recommend you avoid consuming it. Especially if it's triggering. You'll have my respect if I have yours.

Anyways, I do hear you, though. I understand it, even. You're entitled to your opinion, as am I. I mean no harm to anyone, and thankfully because the characters I'm writing about are fictional - fake, it won't harm them either. No pressure to look at my (extremely nsfw) blog or to read my (heavily warned) content - you definitely have a choice here.

But here's my (also unsolicited) advice:

Remind yourself that these are fictional characters. They don't exist :) Meaning no one here is being hurt or harmed in anyway. Take a deep breath and find comfort in that. Please also remember, that there are much bigger, and better things to worry and advocate about. To be clear - yes, pedophilia is a serious issue. But, throwing around such a word when regarding aged up fake characters from a movie really dilutes it and is disrespectful to the real life victims of pedophilia as well as other victims of sexual abuse, child porn, human trafficking, slavery.. unfortunately the list goes on. These are the people that need to be advocated for. So, I would strongly encourage you to channel your passion to advocate for real life matters - not blue, fictional aliens. Because truthfully, me and my blue alien fictions should not have this magnitude of an effect on you for you to seek me out and take time out of your day to message me about it.

To conclude, I will not be engaging in any further discussions relating to this topic. This is my perspective. If you don’t share a similar one, that’s fine. Do not engage with my explicit content, especially if you are under 18. I feel very strongly about this. My content is intended for adult consumption only as it contains explicit adult themes pertaining but not limited to - pregnancy, birth, sex, dub-con/dark themes, heats/ruts, etc. If you are a minor messaging me about these things you should not be here in the first place. All further comments & messages will be disregarded and blocked.

'nuff love,

issy.

--

[presidentbungus]

Scout has incredible street smarts! While it seems irrelevant in the base dropped in the middle of nowhere, he is invaluable during contract missions located within urban areas.

He can notice an undercover cop in a second, distinguish accents, recognize a scam happening, pinpoint a drug dealer who looks like a sweet old granny and see the signs of some group's terf markings. The team is looking for some local hotshot and they have no leads? Scout runs to the downtown and locates the first bodega/laundromat/bar/gas station/pizza parlor, blends in and befriends some entry-position-apprentice who gives him all the info he needs.

South Boston is the top school in the world for the street-smarts and Scout graduated it with honors.

yep! while scout has resigned himself to the position of “the stupid one” alongside a crowd of extremely talented, socially awkward PhD owners, once somebody finally has the idea that he seems good at talking and drags him along on a mission they figure out pretty quick that holy shit this kid is good at talking.

Engie’s usually the negotiator if they need one at all, mostly because he knows how to say please and thank you when it seems necessary, but he still has sort of a… distrustful aura around him. the accent’s disarming, sure, and does a great job pushing through a crowd of white middle-aged church moms, but it turns out there are a lot of parts where a moderately-wealthy-looking fourty-year-old white man with a little bit of a weird glint in his eyes ain’t really that welcome. so they might send scout in, since he really, really wants to go in and they’re all out of options (unless they want to send sniper, and he’d probably leave the building having bitten at least four people on reflex)—and when he comes back out he’s got everything they need to know, plus some free snacks, plus an invite to some teenage boy’s birthday party.

it turns out that little air of authenticity goes a long way—and the team watches him flip from polite upstanding church-boy cashier to poor sad orphan boy on the streets to egregiously annoying emotional armor-shredding “class clown” in what seems like seconds, and I guess it should occur to someone at some point that he’s spent his entire life figuring out how to blend in places like that and get what he wants.

(everybody would joke he got the ‘good actor’ gene from spy, if it didn’t just make them sad. also, a few people see him effortlessly skating his way person-to-person, molding his conversational targets like putty, and wonder exactly how much of an act he might be putting on back at the base, too.)

addendum: of all the characters he is able to axt in, “suave” or “ladykiller” or anything along those lines is not one of them. please don’t get me wrong. he’s the friendly face you see on the other end of the sidewalk, or the guy you run into at the grocery store that turns towards you and awkwardly tells a whole bunch of jokes in a row and it’s so weirdly pathetic and charming at the same time you can’t help but laugh, but he’s still terrible at romance, and as a matter of fact most things Involving charisma in general. he just takes advantage of that sad wet kitten energy, you know? it works out

[biggaybunny]

The universe is weird and doesn’t make sense. You get yourself a crapload (technical term) of energy and some dimensions (exact number debatable) and just leave them there. You come back and your energy has gotten a bit clumpy, it’s all quarks and electrons now I guess. Sure. You leave it a little longer and the clumps get clumpy and now you got protons, and some neutrons, and electrons. You see the pattern. The clumpy clumps get clumpy and now you have hydrogen and helium, and you’re like, oh cool. That’s probably as clumpy as its gonna get, right? So you leave it and for the longest time (at least one of the dimensions you had lying around) you’re right. And then what does it do? It forms GIANT clumps MILLIONS OF ORDERS OF MAGNITUDE LARGER THAN THE PREVIOUS CLUMPS. Like, OKAY. SURE. NO MIDDLE STEP THERE. Just, fuck you, your universe has stars n-- oh what the fuck is happening in there. Nuclear fusion? What the fuck is that! Where did that come from!

But whatever! The result looks mostly the same. Sure there are fucking photons now, whatever is up with THOSE things, and all sorts of other asinine particles you don’t remember seeing before, but you’re still basically dealing with the same clumpy clump-clumps you used to, just in more varieties. You get like, lithium, and carbon, and oxygen, but what’s the big deal. Oh, the big deal is now SOME OF THEM ARE MAKING CLUMPS. There’s that middle step that MAYBE SHOULDA SHOWN UP BEFORE HUH? So now you got MOLECULES. And you have STATES OF MATTER. You had those before you guess but you didn’t really have any need to distinguish them but for fuck’s sake now you got ROCKS and boy are those bitches CLUMPY. I mean the way they ORBIT STARS is kinda nice. Pretty, right? And like, this is clearly gonna be the new status quo. It’s not like these weird rocks are gonna produce anything weirder, right? Right??

Well guess the fuck what!! SOME ASSHOLE PUT WATER ON A ROCK. FUCK, RIGHT? And there’s like a crapton (technical term, different than crapload) of carbon down there (what the fuck!!) and carbon is like the most clump-loving bitch you’ve ever fucking seen and it makes all sorts of crazy fucked up molecules down there in the water. THAT’S RIGHT BITCHES ITS TIME FOR ORGANIC CHEMISTRY. So guess what! Some of those molecules down there are fucking UNIONIZING on you. And now they’re REPLICATING THEMSELVES. Think about that. That’s not in the fucking instruction manual. That’s not supposed to happen. Quarks didn’t do that. Particles didn’t have the fucking audacity to do that. Not even stars did that shit (not exactly, there’s this thing, with novas and nebulae-- its a whole thing just trust me). Oh, and APPARENTLY some of these things are INCREASING IN COMPLEXITY which is just a whole load of bullshit (technical term again, sorry). Like, what!!! That!! Is!!! Illegal!!!! You can’t just do that!!! Sure there was sort of a progression of states up until this point but it was more just a shuffling around of things, okay technically they’re not violating the rules but you definitely think you need a referee in here because this clearly wasn’t intended.

And before you even fucking know it some of the clumps of molecules (so, clumps of clumps of clumps of clumps of clumpy energy) are fucking OBSERVING this whole state of affairs i.e. the universe and THEMSELVES, a bunch of particles that KNOWS its a bunch of particles and part of the universe and how the fuck are you supposed to handle that situation you literally just started with energy and dimensions man, energy and dimensions, where in that equation was there room for poetry and canned goods and laughter and generational wisdom and buttons???

You realize you ought to put some pants on.

[flowerandblood]

What happened to your writing? How did it dwindle down to this dumb?..It used to actually have plot, structure, proper grammar. Characters who used to actually have…character.

Now it’s absolutely devoid of any substance, it’s almost empty. You keep starting new stories, but it’s the same exact story just with a different aesthetic. Like a cosplay of a cosplay of a cosplay of the same exact plot, if it makes sense?

One of the most upsetting thing is not even the plot, it’s your vocabulary. I understand that you’re Polish, from what I gather, but using the word “despair” in literally EVERY SENTENCE I’d a little too much. Using completely wrong words, which is something completely fixable with the help of Google translation, but the fact that you don’t even bother to simply Google the meaning of a word that you’re using-shows complete lack of care, I’m sorry.

The last 2 works of yours is what completely cemented my decision to abstain from reading you.

Referring to Roma people as gypsies, while being a European? Girl, everyone knows it’s literally not correct to call them that (in every sense!!)

And comparing Russia to, AND I QUOTE, Nazi Germany? When it was Soviets who lost literally MILLIONS of people in WWll? FIGHTING NAZIS ? What the ACTUAL fuck????

Lastly….Man, listen I don’t know what’s going on with your personal life or something but I’ve noticed this shift not a long time ago in your works. How you used to write female characters was never masculine or authoritative, they were always very feminine (from the start of your fanfic writing) and I don’t mind that at all. What I do mind is how borderline abusive the dynamic between Aemond and your female characters have become. Every. Single. Time….Your female characters used to actually have distinguishable traits and now all they do in your work is get emotionally abused and railed by him 😅 Which is fine I guess?? Like, it’s fun to read (and write!) about weird dynamics from time to time (bc it’s fam fiction and it’s fun) but when your EVERY work is about that? Odd, very odd

I see that you are very disappointed with my writing recently. I wouldn't even notice if you just stop reading my stories, but I understand you have to show me your frustration and that's okay.

About Soviet Union killing more people than Nazis: read more about Holodomor on Ukraine. It actually devastating. And to be clear, I am not grading anything here, because there is no greater or lesser evil.

[ethernetmeep]

actually, whilst having the time & sitting down in the moment, its rather important to state something which occurred today. minuscule. chicken alfredo was made, i didnt eat it. it wasn’t from a dislike of alfredo but a specific circumstance where i saw the sauce of it be viewed in a sexual light before & suddenly it made me sick. its weird, it isn’t that way unless you make it that way, yes, but from the pre-established notion of my childhood being filled with weirdly sexual innuendos it makes it all the more troublesome. i guess ive become paranoid of being viewed as sexual in general because its something i remember doing (granted, due to the friends i surrounded myself with & media) when i was younger & didn’t realize how odd it was. i admittedly can’t say i was solitary or that i was separated from my peers like most people might when they describe that adolescent era since i always made myself be around people, so its not as if i suffered from a lack of social interaction as more so that interaction almost being the issue because of whom i played with. i interacted but it probably would’ve been for the better if i didn’t. summer camp comes to mind. i still see around the boy i once knew who would share the weirdly uncomfortable LPS play stories where the dogs would abuse each other and being overly awful or be weirdly sexual. we don’t talk. i don’t even wave to him. i hope he has a good life & it has gotten better, but i have realized it is probably for the better we separated as people. i have found who i want to be, and he’s found himself too. i brought him up because i remembered him & hoped that even in a passing writing about my life my act of archiving his existence shows i still care and hope the best for him. if i archive my life, that means i can archive snippets of the people. the worst thing is to not be remembered or forgotten, i think.

i seem to have driven past the original premise— this too is fitting for the affair. i do not plan to eat chicken alfredo & i avoid being in situations where i am faced with something sexual even by accident. i look downwards at my feet when i go up stairs because i do not want to make someone else paranoid someone is staring at them in an abnormal way which is in its own way a projection. i look away when i even accidentally look in the direction of someone taking off a shirt or anything ever. i even look away when a friend or pupil is drinking something an odd way… there is a distinction, actually— it is not as if what they’re doing is odd, but yet the way i interact with the world. even if its unlikely i would ever look at another person in that way, i like to remove the hypothetical from even being vaguely possible to occur. its a projection statement, how i wouldn’t want someone to look at me eating a food which could be viewed as possibly lewd, but also truthful.

this can also explain the sort of harsh mentality i have to sexual comments & how i will immediately shut down anything implying anyone i have been in contact with over my years of living in any sexual light no matter the relation. we could hate each other & i will shut it down. we could be best friends & i will shut it down. it is something which i cannot handle and will not make someone else go through. it simply isn’t happening. i have become kinder & laughed it off a little before leaving the conversation after with it, but the ending is ultimately the same. i leave. always.

make with this what you will. it’s important to state i haven’t dealt with any kind of sexual trauma, not physically, probably not mentally. my childhood was just… strange. i cannot put the right words to it.

*it is important to distinguish from this that i do not mind the topic of sex, though. i feel like.. that might have not been obvious. like what you like. do what you want. this is simply a discussion about personal circumstances. it does not mean i hate people having sex & they should die or something. far from that. i want them to be happy. its just something which i distance heavily from myself personally but is not some weird intense hatred for people wanting to get their freak on

[secretly-an-automaton]

WELCOME TO…

random shit that most of this fandom collectively deluded into being canon, regardless of if it a) wasn’t explicitly stated in the show, b) contradicts actual lore, or c) was just straight up made up with no real basis! Also half of the bullet points end in rants; there are no words to describe this phenomenon but I’m a fanfic writer so that sure as hell didn’t stop me from trying

Ghost cores—not only the different types but also just their existence in general apparently—was pretty much entirely invented by the fandom. Like bro that’s the entire basis of ghost biology, how tf were we supposed to believe it worked in the show??

To expand on that, ghost biology.

Someone just decided Danny has freckles and that they glow in ghost form and we were all like. yeah.

Wesley Weston’s entire character. Nuff said.

Jack and/or Maddie always seemed to have grown up on a farm? Although I suppose with Maddie’s sister that could maybe be considered an educated guess

All the townsfolk refer to Danny’s ghost form as just ‘Phantom’ - oh wait, no they don’t.

Valerie’s alter ego is called the ‘Red Huntress’ - oh wait, no it’s not.

That one’s especially funny cause originally this list just included “Phantom calls Valerie ‘Red’” but then I learned the whole title was fanon and now I question everything I’ve ever thought beknownst to me.

Amity Park is a small town (not according to the background shots in the actual show).

I don’t remember how much of ghostly obsessions/Danny’s specifically was pulled out of the fandom’s ass but I imagine a fair amount of it considering the show wasn’t big on world building.

Phantom’s voice is echoey and/or staticky.

Danny smells like ozone and possibly citrus?

This one might just have to do with number psychology, but everyone seems to agree Phantom is a “level 7” on all of the arbitrary ghost rating systems invented by the Fentons?? Which were also made up tbf cause the Fentons never even invented that.

Danny bleeds both blood and ectoplasm, usually dependent on form, has a low heart rate and body temperature in human form, and possibly fangs. Aside from the latter these are mostly just logical inferences but it felt like they belonged here anyway.

Blob ghosts maybe?? I only think they might’ve been made up because I couldn’t find a proper photo reference of them one time and like I said, I question everything now. Maybe Jazz was never even real and the fandom just made her up so Danny could have one tiny thread of stability to support the massive load of trauma that we also dumped on him. Who the hell knows anymore, this fandom was the original Goncharov.

Accident with a capital A.

As far as I can tell, ectoblasts aren’t actually referred to as such. Admittedly I didn’t rewatch the whole show just to confirm, but according to the wiki, they’re actually called ghost rays.

Danny’s signature nervous tick is rubbing the back of his neck. I honest to god accidentally picked this habit up from reading fanfic and it is marginally embarrassing.

Danny blushes green in ghost form (admittedly this is a relatively obvious leap from “bleeds ectoplasm”.)

Ghost speak.

Danny’s middle name is James and Lancer’s first name is William (or maybe Edward.)

In all the AU’s I’ve read that involve Danny moving to Amity from somewhere else, it’s always Chicago. Admittedly I’ve only read two, but to paraphrase Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, it’s still weird that it happened twice.

Ghost ice doesn’t melt? Was that a thing? I don’t think so(?) This fandom is so bad at distinguishing canon from fanon and that does not exclude me, I haven’t seen the show in three years.

What else do y’all got? I’m sure there’s plenty more to go around

[marvelandponder]

💖 🖊? Maybe these can go hand in hand! (Unless you want to keep your favourite parts for when they come out haha)

Fanfic Ask Game! Hehehehe! I was hoping somebody would use the pen! I'll answer the first one in general, then give you a snippet from an upcoming story I just finished revising (off to be illustrated!) 💖 What do you like most about your own writing? Hard to say, but I really love writing and dialogue. I've had to read back so much of my own stuff since I try to edit it to a good point before it goes to Bevin - so I will admit a terrible sin: I laugh at my own jokes. I also cry at my own stories, but I cry easy! 🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP. (let's goooooo!)

Her knuckles clunked against the hardwood, resounding.  Floorboards shifted and sifted dust until a chain lock clocked open, and the door stepped back to let a half-awake, swollen-eyed Timber Spruce work out how to parse the view. “Sunset Shimmer?”

Mud clung to her rain-filled boots as Sunset stood on his covered porch feeling like a wet rat in a sewer drain. “... Hi,” she said, soaked through. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late, and dark, and you probably don’t exactly want to see me…” Over her shoulder, the rain splattered on her motorcycle, pouring off the roof. What’s he supposed to think? Any sense of cool had abandoned her and a chill broke through her layers. “I’ve got something I need to say to you.”

All the sleep loitering his eyes cleared out, and Timber brightened as if a shiny new bus pulled into camp. Chest sitting higher enough for her to notice his musculature, he pulled the door open with all the enthusiasm she got out of Banana or Spike. “Yeah?”

She got one look down at herself. He seemed to do the same, and he elected to join her on the porch. As he did, she reached into the inner pocket⁠ of her jacket and pulled out what she came for: two tickets to the Fall Formal. 

Once he locked eyes with the ticket stubs, the power of his intense brows shrouded over everything, trees fallen on the forest floor. Thunder rumbled somewhere so far off that it could’ve been a bend in the wind. “Oh, no,” Timber said, kind of smiling. “I gave those to Twilight. She should get a chance to use them with someone.”

Sunset only moved to nod. Her leather creaked like the rain.

The firm hold his brows had deepend, gutting a trench between themselves⁠ until suddenly, they let go. 

“Get back together with her,” she said, blacker than the pitch outside of the porch. 

“Sunset⁠—”

“You make her laugh. You’re the same kind of weird. You’re good for her.” She could hear the rasp of her voice working over that one. “Maybe she rolled her eyes a lot and things ended, but I was there. I know she loved you. And I can guess how you feel about her.”

Timber listened to her in the rain in his pajamas and bedhead-hair. 

“I thought if you broke up, she’d be sad but…” Celestia, the sound of how she cried the first night. Twilight’s rawed out voice dragged out into shaking quiet before another blast like each breath was a new wave. Sunset’s hand gripped her own soaked shirt just the same as she’d gripped the shirt on Twilight’s back. Mist crested off the eavesdrops. “I want her to stop hurting,” she said, Timber’s edges blurred. “She’s my best friend in any world.⁠⁠” Dull-eyed, she shook her head, tickets raised. “So? What’s stopping you? Go on and ask her to the dance.” 

The wind changed and Timber shook his overly fluffy head. “... You have to know I’m not going to do that, right? You have to know that.”

Sunset’s ribs cramped, stitches in her sides. She shoved the tickets into his chest. “C’mon! I know you still like her! You crazy kids deserve each other⁠—what’s wrong with you?”

Rubbing the spot where the mushrooms on his shirt distinguished him as a Fungi at Parties, Timber looked down at the tickets at his chest like he was expecting something else to be there. “I don’t know what she told you about our breakup but think about it for a second: You’re talking about Twilight Sparkle.” He turned his chin to slant his look to her. “You really think she’d ever make a big decision without thinking it through?”

[zelphin124]

SeasonTale - Chapter 2

Alrighty! You guys wanted more SeasonTale, so here you go!

TW: Abuse, needles, fear

Masterpost

~o0o~

He was scared of his eyes. 

Summer stared in horror in the mirror, repeatedly tilting his head to the side. He often pulled on his skull to get a better view, but it didn’t help much. He couldn’t remember his previous eyes, which scared him the most. 

He stood in the bathroom alone with the door locked. It was a small white room with a toilet behind him and a sink in front of him. A silent fan twirled above him as he stood on his tippy toes to view the mirror. He would often jump to get a better look until he got enough momentum to sit on the counter, getting a better look at his new eyes. 

They were suns now. Small, bright yellow dots surrounded by scattered triangles. They complimented his yellow outfit and fit with his season, but he still wasn’t used to it. Heck, he wasn’t used to any of the changes on his body. 

Summer observed the sun indents his skull, the scars on his upper ribs toward his shoulders, and his sunset tongue. However, he couldn’t distract himself from his eyes. The modified orbs felt weird in his eye sockets as if they didn’t belong. 

He knew that they didn’t belong there. He didn’t want to change his eyes or any of his body to be altered, but he had no choice. 

The procedure was incredibly painful; no matter how many times Summer begged, Summer!Gaster refused to give him any relief. Summer would often be called into the lab for his dad to experiment with him. He was told it was for the ‘greater good’ or ‘gaining knowledge.’ The only knowledge he got was how painful the experiments were. The eye procedure had been the most scarring of them all. He had trouble seeing out of his eyes for a while and guessed it would take a bit to get used to the new bulbs. It was worth it if it meant his dad loved him, right? 

He had tried to run away once. After he came home from school with Summer!Alphys, he tried going to the ocean to avoid his dad. The fear of another procedure every week scarred him. However, when Summer!Gaster found him, he cried profusely, asking why he couldn’t do a simple thing to help his father out. The endless tears that ran down his dad’s cheeks overwhelmed him with guilt, and he never ran away from a procedure again. 

How strange, Summer thought at the time. He stopped crying so quickly after I said sorry… Maybe S!Gaster believed my apology. Summer didn’t think about it much. As long as his dad accepted him, it was fine. 

He didn’t feel like he was accepted at all. Despite not making many friends in school, his father was never home. The only times he saw him were before and after he was tortured. He wished his dad would play catch the ball with him on the field, but he was always too busy. Maybe if I help him with his studies… he could play ball with me! It would go faster for both of us! He smiled to himself, but it came as quickly as it faded. But… I don’t want that magic to hurt me again… 

Summer stared into his eyes once more. He wondered how many more alterations it would take for his dad to be happy with how Summer was. What kind of magic would he use next time? What would he change about Summer next time? Would he refuse to let Summer go again? 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Summer flashbacked to the eye procedure as the horror flooded back into him. He turned around in fright, clenching his head as tears started to fall on his face. He hyperventilated as the vision faded, revealing who had touched him. 

S!Gaster seemed unphased by his reaction. “How do they feel? Can you see?” He asked quickly. 

Summer wiped away his tears and shoved his dad’s hand off his shoulder. He tried looking at S!Gaster’s long yellow robe. It was decorated with various sun colors and was in long, elegant swirls. Two blue gems were attached to the scientist’s shoulder. More gems were on his big shoes, but Summer could barely distinguish them. S!Gaster wore his water-droplet glasses and brushed some orange dust off his red and orange onesie. 

“I-I can s-see,” Summer lied; everything was so hazy he felt like he would faint. 

S!Gaster wrote something down in his journal before glancing back at him. “Don’t lock the bathroom door, please.” 

Summer lowered his head. “I-I’m sorry…” 

S!Gaster wrote down something again. “Are you afraid, Summer?” 

Summer nodded. He couldn’t pinpoint what he was afraid of exactly. All he knew was he felt afraid when his dad was around. To him, it didn’t make sense because he wanted his father to like him and catch a rubber ball with him. He told himself he could figure it out when he was a big kid. Summer!Alphys—his teacher—told him not to worry about it, as he was only seven. 

Or did she say that about the burnt pie? 

“Tsk tsk,” S!Gaster clicked his pen, shaking his head. “That won’t do… no no, that won’t do…” he turned around and headed for the door. 

Summer got off the counter and followed him. “D-Dad?” 

“What?” S!Gaster muttered, scribbling things down in his notebook. 

Summer gently tugged on his robe. “I got a new ball!” His face lit up momentarily. “Could we go play catch by the ocean today?” 

Summer’s heart dropped when S!Gaster tugged his robe from the boy’s hands and closed the door. “No,” he could hear his father outside of the bathroom. “Dad is busy today.” 

The monster kids quickly packed up their bags as the bell rang. Summer wasn’t in a rush like them. He didn’t want to go home today. I hope the ocean isn’t cold today… He sighed, putting the papers that he drew inside of his bag. One of them caught his eye. Huh… He stared at one of them; they had a big rock on them; Mrs. Alphys called them the ‘Winter Mountains.’ They looked very cool to him, and he wondered if they were real. He planned to ask his questions tomorrow, as they would be going over it again. 

S!Alphys erased the board and glanced back at Summer. She adjusted her glasses and set the eraser down, glancing at the only other one in the room. “Hey Summer,” she called his name sweetly. “Are you doing okay?” 

Summer shrugged, swinging the bag over his shoulder and walking towards the door. “Yes ma’am.” 

S!Alphys picked up her sunflower dress and waddled over to him. “Just wanted to make sure, you didn’t look up at all during the lesson today.” 

Summer glanced up at her without a word. “I’m sorry-” 

He would never forget the horror on her face. It was so surprising that it cut him off. S!Alphys bent down, barely able to formulate words. “Summer… what happened to your eyes?” 

“My dad needed me for an experiment,” he shrugged. “It’s okay, they don’t hurt anymore.” 

S!Alphys’ breath was shaky. She motioned for Summer to sit down on a desk nearby. Once he did, she took a few breaths. “And these… experiments… do they hurt…?” 

Summer nodded again. He felt an insane amount of guilt engulf him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset…” 

“No, Summer, it’s not you. Don’t worry,” S!Alphys spoke through watery eyes. She looked away from him for a moment. “What all has he done to you?” 

“I don’t know,” Summer sighed. “He does them every week. He’s said that he’s only helping me by removing stuff I don’t need, like my previous eyes, or whatever fert-fertility is…” He had trouble pronouncing the word. “Sometimes he adds things, like this sun print,” he pointed to the sun indent on his face. “It’s kinda cool, I guess…” 

His teacher nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry, Summer…” 

“Why are you sorry?” He asked curiously. “It makes my dad happy. I want him to be happy… maybe if he’s happy enough, he’ll come play ball with me one day.” 

“Does he not play with you?” 

“No,” Summer shrugged. “He’s too busy. I think he will one day though!” 

S!Alphys wiped away the tears forming in her eyes. “Honey… I don’t…” She paused. “Will some of the boys here play ball with you?” 

“No,” Summer shook his head. “They like hopscotch more. I don’t like hopscotch, it hurts my feet.” 

“Did your dad experiment on your feet too?” 

Summer nodded again. 

S!Alphys sighed. “What he’s doing to you isn’t okay. You know that, right?” 

Summer tilted his head. “It’s not?” 

“No,” she said. “It never will be…” She thought for a moment again. “How about this? You come to school tomorrow, and I’ll bring a friend who loves to play catch. How does that sound?” 

Summer’s eyes lit up. “Really? Yeah, I’d like that.” 

S!Alphys smiled. “Okay, I will make that call right now. Be careful when you’re home, okay?” 

“Will do, thank you Mrs. Alphys,” he replied as he hurried out the door. 

For the first time in a while, he felt happy. He couldn’t contain his smile. Oh boy! Someone is going to come play catch the ball with me tomorrow! I’ll have to bring my new ball! I hope they like the color red… 

Once his feet came in contact with the sand, Summer slid to a halt. S!Gaster stood there, waiting for him. None of the other kids were around. Already? Summer cowered under his backpack. But I just had a procedure… I don’t want another one. 

“Summer, let’s go home,” his dad ordered, offering his hand. 

Summer didn’t want to upset him. He grabbed his hand and felt a sting through his ribs as S!Gaster teleported them immediately to the lab room. 

Summer shrank back in fright, realizing where he was as his eyes slowly adjusted. “Dad, please, I don’t want to do another experiment. They hurt,” Summer begged, backing away. 

“Don’t disappoint me, my child,” S!Gaster salvaged through the drawers. He turned around and held the needle in his hand. It didn’t take him long to grab Summer’s arm and set him on the bed. “I am helping you. This is for the greater good.” 

“But-” 

“This experiment will be to your soul. It will neutralize your emotions. You don’t want to be afraid anymore, right?” 

Summer couldn’t control the waterfalls falling from his eyes. “N-No b-b-but-” he caught off as he felt a burning pain when his soul was brought up. He let out a cry of pain, trying to jerk away from the magical needle. He hated the magic, he didn’t want anything to do with it. His chest tightened as the pain got more severe. He wanted to flee, he wanted to run far away. He just wanted the pain to stop… 

“Hold still,” S!Gaster pinned him to the bed. “Close your eyes, it will only hurt for a little bit…”

[raven-starlight]

I fell in love with you in the summer. 

It was hot and dry and my lips cracked and bled every time I smiled. You made me smile a lot. I like to think it was a metaphor. You made me taste death every time I laughed. Or maybe life. I could never distinguish the two with you. 

Anyway. I dreamed of you, sometimes. You made me laugh and my lips would crack and bleed and you would lean over and kiss me. My friend said it means I desired intimacy but that the blood meant I was scared. She was into Freudian dream analysis. I never liked him, anyway. 

I guess she wasn’t wrong though. I dreamed about you more than I’d like to admit. In my dreams, you were poetry. In my poetry, you were the dream of you. I laughed and my lips bled and you kissed me and I tasted death. Sometimes you wouldn’t stop at kissing me. Sometimes you would keep kissing me, keep swallowing me, keep consuming me until you’d devoured me entirely. 

“Cannibalism as a metaphor for love,” I’d once said. “What do you think?” 

You’d made a face. “I think it’s gruesome. Romanticizes weird things, you know? Like those people who defend the serial killers ‘cause they think they’re hot.” 

I didn’t tell you that sometimes, I dreamed that I bared my neck for you, and that you’d torn it apart, my heart between your teeth. A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism. 

Anyway. It was summer and school was over and everything was golden. When the light hit your eyes right they looked golden. Sometimes they were dark, a soft brown like the piano I tried to teach you to play on and the damp earth after the summer storm. Sometimes they were blue like the sky or the sea and I was suffocating, drowning. When they were gold, they were like amber, sweet-sticky-thick, trapping me. Everything looked golden when you looked at me like that. I didn’t protest so long as you kept looking at me like that. 

It was your birthday yesterday. I wish I didn’t remember. I wish I didn’t text you even though you hadn’t talked to me in months. “Hey. Happy birthday.” It’s dinner time and my mom yells at me because I keep checking my phone. You text me the next day. “Thanks.” I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved or angry. I bite my lip. It’s bleeding again. “No problem.” 

You don’t reply. 

Anyway. I quit piano. I look into my father’s eyes and see you. Blue eyes that make me feel like I’m dying. “Oedipus complex,” my friend says knowingly. “You go after the familiar.” Sometimes I wish I didn’t remember your birthday. You didn’t remember mine. My father didn’t remember my mother’s, but he bought a girl a multi-hundred dollar gift for her birthday. She was closer to my age than his. You sent me a picture of yourself shirtless. My father sent a nude to her. I dated a boy just to see what it was like to be wanted. Maybe that’s why my father cheated. Maybe that’s why you kept talking to me like you could love me. It was summer and everything looked golden and I let you keep using me so long you looked at me like you loved me. I don’t know if I am more like my mother or my father. They are both unhappy. It scares me. Who am I?

Anyway. Sometimes I dream that you kiss me and I taste my own blood on your lips. Sorry about that. Sorry about the mess. Sorry that I bleed every time you speak. Sorry that I gave you my mess of a heart. Sorry that I loved you. I’ll keep bleeding for you. Just keep looking at me like that. Just keep telling me you love me. 

I fell in love with you in the summer. My lips cracked and bled every time you made me smile. I like to think it’s a metaphor. Maybe this summer I won’t remember your birthday. Maybe. 

[r1999-transcript]

Worn Teeth And Old Marks 01 - Route 66

Horropedia: 10.5 inches, fresh root, slightly decayed … Oh! The saliva … presumably it’s from a … or say, that giant carbuncle. But it could also be another speciality of Green Lake! For my personal taste, though, monster horror is obviously of a lower class. Hm … If I remember correctly, Ms. Tooth Fairy’s pouch is about 5 inches long. The size of the tooth is almost twice that of the poor flannelette bag … and it’s a bit too conservative to call such a deadly weapon a tooth.

Tooth Fairy: Excellent point, Mr. Horropedia. That is the case. Although I don’t mind expanding my collections … As I said earlier, it’s not common to see a critter of this size. So thank you very much for getting me this, Ms. Blonney.

Blonney: Ugh … In terms of the results, yes you should thank me. In fact I just fancy its sharpness … Before you make it one of your collections, could you ask Freddie to break the stupid wood into pieces with it? … We’ll give it back to you as soon as we find the axe. Immediately!

Horropedia: Whoo! The more reliable team came back … Hey, this way!

Sonetto: Ms. Tooth Fairy, I am very sorry … There are much more teeth in the area than we thought. Most broken teeth of the critters are excluded. There are fifteen remaining. They belong to different kinds of carbuncles, lindworms and olitiaus respectively … and quite a few baby teeth of humans.

Vertin: Considering the age of some of the Zeno Youth Force, it’s not really surprising.

Sonetto: If the human teeth are all excluded, there are another three unidentifiable … Well, in fact, I cannot confirm if they are teeth or not … but I guess the collections will always be special. Ms. Tooth Fairy, you could spend some time carefully screening …

Tooth Fairy: Ah. It’s here.

Sonetto: Um … sorry? You mean it’s among the baby teeth over there? … Do you need to double check? As far as I know, these are all baby teeth of children aged around 12. They have something in common that …

Tooth Fairy: I understand your concern, Ms. Sonetto. But as you said, the nine teeth in the pouch are all my unique collections. I know every pattern, every inch of wear and tear on them … Without even a glimpse, by touching alone, I can easily distinguish them from hundreds of teeth.

Jason: Hey. This is much more like an arcanist in my knowledge. Some quirks … you know, compared to those who aim at heads or toes in the stories, it’s kind of less weird to collect your own baby teeth.

Blonney: … Shut up, Jason. If you have time talking nonsense, you’d better give me a hand!

Tooth Fairy: As I know, over 40% of humans incline to collect their baby teeth as a record of their growth. Though their purpose is different from mine, it demonstrates that collecting baby teeth is not something exclusive to arcanists. My college mate had an elaborate brass box. It was filled with her own teeth.

Blonney: Your college … mate? That means .. you studied at …

Tooth Fairy: It’s the college for humans, Ms. Blonney. It’s located in Rochester, Minnesota. From my analysis of the information, I was the only arcanist admitted to Mayo Medical School that year. However, please allow me to make one thing clear.

Lying in her palm is the baby teeth that stained with blood, like a sugar cube that tastes weird.

Tooth Fairy: … This is not my baby tooth.

…

Route 66

Route 66 starts from Chicago, Illinois, and runs west across to Santa Monica in Los Angeles County, California. It’s a highway that has developed rapidly since the war was over. On Route 66 ran Wills Keep in the past, and then Cadillac. Countless families from the east hummed tunes as they sped towards the beach, just like rockets roaring to the universe. However, the introduction of the Interstate Highway Act marked its drastic decline. Now it is barely known.

Car Radio: Welcome to Eastern Tornado! This is your old friend …

Even though the car has long been a necessity for every American now …

Car Radio: The first song is from Whitney Houston …

But for someone who had just turned 18, a lonely road trip was fresh experience indeed.

Tooth Fairy: Huh … Hopefully this meeting with the Professor will go smooth …

That’s right—a sudden call from my mentor set me on this brief journey.

…

Campbell’s Home

Tooth Fairy: Yes. Thank you very much for this. Father said I wouldn’t have completed my studies at Mayo without your help. However, as for the conference … Approximately, it takes at least five days to drive from here to Arizona. Father has been quite busy these days… I’m sorry. Please allow me to …

Professor: Hahahaha, don’t be uptight, kid! Like I said, it’s just a casual family call, a small talk … I haven’t seen you for a long time since I quit working as a visiting professor. How’s Mr. Campbell doing? Oh! He loves you very much … Of course, I must say, you never let him down. A Subaru SVX, the red one … It’s your graduation present and birthday gift, right?

Tooth Fairy: Oh … yes.

Professor: Welcome to adulthood! Now you’re 18 years old, a big boy … oh no, an adult! The talented student I tutored in person. The most impressive one in the history of Mayo. One month? Or two? Maybe we haven’t seen each other in a long time…

Tooth Fairy: If you mean the last time we met, I think it was over six months ago.

Professor: Oh, six months … quite a long time! *sigh* I still remember the first time I saw you, the textbooks you were to read was even taller than you …

Tooth Fairy: … Thank you for thinking of me, but … …

Professor: Hm?

Tooth Fairy: … Fine, fine. I’ll bring that Stags’ Leap Cabernet Sauvignon … Mother has been keeping an eye out for it when she heard of your interest.

Professor: So you’re coming, right?

Tooth Fairy: If I can make it, Professor … After all, I haven’t tried driving across half of the continent yet.

Professor: Oh! That is … fantastic! Take your time! Thank Mrs. Campbell for the wine for me, kid. I’ll see you in a few days.

…

Tooth Fairy: Hah … Hah …

The screeching of the brakes yanks me from my thoughts.

Tooth Fairy: *coughs* Damn …

I swerve to the side right in time, but the figure that suddenly appears from the side of the road …

…

Route 66 runs across the American continent. By then it has long been one of the loneliest highways.

Tooth Fairy: *cough* …! How … could there be … a child here?

…

When I think about it now … I wish I had never got this blood-stained baby tooth.

[danielstalter]

The Babysitter

The Babysitter remains one of R.L. Stine’s most notorious books outside of his Goosebumps and Fear Street titles, and rightly so. Jenny was a relatable and endearing protagonist. Stine did an excellent job with the pacing, slowly building the tension with some genuinely unnerving scenes. On the downside, I had some problems with the motives of the villain and there was some really shoddy police work that was presented as exceptional. I was also baffled by one particular action of Jenny’s mother, which I’ll save for the full review below because of spoilers. I’ll just say that sometimes it’s hard to distinguish between bad/oblivious parenting and things that were still considered OK in the late 1980s. Overall, I really enjoyed this one in spite of its flaws.

Score: 3.5 Full Review: https://www.danstalter.com/the-babysitter/

The Babysitter II

The Babysitter II was a very middle-of-the-road sequel. The characters were solid and by far the strongest part overall. But for every element I liked, there was something of equal measure that I didn’t. The book had some very dated depictions of mental health, which were hard to look past. I hated Jenny’s psychiatrist from the jump. It was immediately apparent he was a bad fit for a traumatized teenage girl. I suppose he sucked in a believable way, but I can’t help but cringe at unhelpful depictions of therapy. It’s OK to break up with your therapist, folks. Jenny certainly needed to. The dream sequences also got really tiring after the first one. Unless the book is about dreams specifically, they just feel cheap. The kid that Jenny babysits for in this round was presented as a menace to society. Eli Wexner is a child genius, he has mood swings, he likes tarantulas, and he can be straight-up weird. I think he read more as an autistic kid with inexperienced and overwhelmed parents than anything threatening. I don’t know if that’s what Stine was going for, but that’s definitely what I got as the story progressed. The other reason I’m being hard on this one is that I guessed the plot twist way earlier than I usually do. I suppose the book holds up as a competent mystery if you aren’t familiar with any other books R.L. Stine has written. For me, it felt like a partial rehashing of the first book and a mix of things I’ve seen repeatedly in the Fear Street books. The Babysitter II wasn’t the worst, and it wasn’t the best. It’s a mostly competent sequel that just didn’t bring anything particularly new to the table.

Score: 2.5 Full Review: https://www.danstalter.com/the-babysitter-ii/

The Babysitter III

The Babysitter III felt like a sequel in search of a story. I’ll start with the good; at least Jenny wasn’t taking on yet another babysitting job after her experiences in the first two books. It changed the formula by introducing Jenny’s cousin Debra as this book’s titular babysitter. Unfortunately, I still saw the twist ending coming from a mile away. It had too many similarities to other Stine books. Everything he did here, he’s done it before and he’s done it better. There were a bunch of B-plot elements that ultimately served no purpose other than to throw the reader off the real trail. The B-plots are great for this function, but they work best when they also tie back into the main storyline. Almost none of them did. Jenny is also very clearly dealing with PTSD, but no longer appears to be in therapy or have any sort of support system in place. I’m used to dated and problematic depictions of mental health in these books, but this one just felt hard to watch. It was like one long, sad cringe. The book also relied on some characterization changes that I just couldn’t buy into. It made me wish the whole Babysitter series featured a different protagonist in each installment. Because the first Babysitter book was great; I consider it one of Stine’s best. The Babysitter II was less so but not bad. This one just felt phoned in. The ending of The Babysitter III does hold some promise for the fourth and final installment, but I can’t say I have a ton of confidence in that happening.

Score: 1 Full Review: https://www.danstalter.com/the-babysitter-iii/

The Babysitter IV

I did not go into this book with high expectations, so I was very pleasantly surprised when this book took a fresh direction. The Babysitter III had squeezed every last bit out of using Mr. Hagan as a villain, so I was happy to see that he was barely mentioned all in The Babysitter IV. In a lot of ways, this book was about Jenny reclaiming the narrative for herself. The way that Jenny’s past experiences caused her to question her own sanity at every turn made for a unique perspective that a lot of sequels miss out on. I figured out some of the twist ending early on, but I wasn’t bothered by it. What did bother me was how rushed the ending was. There was a whole other story received in the last few pages that deserved its own spotlight. It was a shame because I really liked the story it was telling, I just wanted more than an eleventh-hour info dump. I can’t be more specific without dropping massive spoilers, but almost all of the issues I had with this book stem from how it ended. I still liked The Babysitter IV more than I didn’t, and I was happy to see the final installment in the series end on such a strong note.

Score: 3.5 Full Review: https://www.danstalter.com/the-babysitter-iv/

[greetings-inferiors]

It’s so strange that I just have two animals in my house. Like they’re living, breathing things that think and feel. And go about their day. They aren’t just objects. And they are indistinguishable from objects. In my mind at least. Sure they move around, make noise, etc., but objects can do that. The thing which distinguishes objects from not-objects is for me to be able to communicate with them, and to be able to interact and get a ‘unique’ outcome. If I went up to my brother I could talk with him about anything, and I wouldn’t be able to predict what he does next. I can guess, but there’ll always be something different each time. But with my dogs, I can’t communicate with them in any meaningful way, and I can predict what they’d do. If someone comes near the door they’ll bark. If I walk up to them they’ll start wagging their tails expecting a stroke. If I start stroking them they’ll go on their back. Obviously there are differences, but they’re not noticeable to me. And also it just doesn’t feel like I’m communicating with someone. Humanity has a very unique feeling that I don’t feel when interacting with anything else.

It’s just weird to me that they ARE like us. I just can’t tell.

[keksalot404]

OMORI Guardian Angel Dreams - The Dark of Many Names

An OMORI Crossover Fic

Chapter 5 - If You’re Looking For Fun...

---

"...and that was the last time I saw him before moving away."

It was weird for Sunny to be talking about Omori as if he was a separate being, especially when he now took the appearance of him ever since being in this strange, dark world.

"Wow Sunny, I..." Aubrey stopped her speech to fully settle her thoughts, "God, that's what you were doing for 4 years?"

"..." Sunny stayed silent. It was good, wasn't it? He finally talked to somebody about his Headspace. He never thought it be important to even mention it, up until his view of it changed so jarringly.

Was all his dreams... really dreams? This world, this Dark World, it felt so different, yet felt so subtly familiar. Was what he experienced those 4 years... was it not just a place for him to escape to? A little fake world to be the hero of... could it be...?

"...H-hey! Look at that! Random stage thing!" Aubrey broke the tension in the air. "Finally, am I right? It felt like we've been walking forever now."

Sunny looked to the path ahead. The glowing lights were finally distinguished as stage lights, placed orderly round a square platform. Pass that, a large, shining city of flashing colors and music awaits them.

The pair stepped up a tiny stairway and onto the wide stage, wooden creaks echoed with each step of the floor.

"Huh," Aubrey observed the area around her, "what's this doing here so far from the city?"

Sunny looked around the empty stage, nothing but the yellow lights were present in this place.

Aubrey shrugged, "Well I guess we can just pass through here then-"

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE YOU MEATBAGS!"

A loud, boisterous voice shrieks across the stage, Sunny and Aubrey nearly stumbling back at the shock of a new entity.

"Wha-! Who are - gha!" Aubrey eyes were forced shut when the stage lights flared even brighter, circling around before pointing to 2 shadowed figures the opposite sides of her.

"Don't think you can just skip the next part of this act!" one of the figures said, his voice more nasally then his companion.

Aubrey and Sunny slowly focused their eyes at the opposing duo as the lights settled down around them. They identified their brown shoes, which covered short gray legs. Further up were pairs of round trousers, one red and the other blue. Upper more were inky black bodies that connected to white gloves. They seemed almost like exact clones of each other, the only difference them were their heads, almost resembling...

...a pair of ceramic cups?

"This might as well be the last act too!" the red cup announced. "Because now it's time for..."

"The Cuphead Show!"

The pair of childhood friends stare confounded at the brothers before them, the stage now filled with the color of yellow, and the lights shining upwards to the dark sky above.

"Um, actually it's the Cuphead AND Mugman show, hehe..." The blue trousered man timidly corrected.

"Sunny, aren't those guys cartoon characters?" Aubrey whispered near Sunny's ear. They did in fact watch something like "The Cuphead Show" airing on Frisk's TV one day. Sunny recalled the plot usually follows the 2 brothers, Mugman and the shows namesake, Cuphead, get into trouble and somehow getting by in the end, usually started by one or both of them being dumb. Aubrey only recalled the Devil guy being kind of funny.

"Well howzabout that! You guys actually know some old street smarts!" Cuphead called out. "Looks like kids these days still dig the classics!"

"Uh, Cuphead," Mugman leaned towards his brother, "They must've just seen our reboot show. We just finished the 2nd season a week ago!"

"What do you guys even want..." Aubrey was honestly getting tired of annoying duos at this point, and she's only been here for 10 minutes.

"Word has it you're the new hot shots 'round here," Cuphead leaned his head towards the two humans, "We was thinkin' we'd do a little crossover between us. A show packed with explosives, falling anvils, maybe even an encounter with the Ol' Devil!"

"Those all sound completely lethal," Sunny managed to speak out with slight fear in his tone, Aubrey inclined to agree.

"Whaddya mean? None of you's got toon insurance? Can't walk off a little bruisen'?" Cuphead tilts in confusion.

"Cuphead, I don't think they want to work with us..."

"Nonsense Mugsy!" Cuphead interrupted his brother, "Remember what Elder Kettle taught us? If you don't succeed the first time..."

Cuphead pointed his one of his finger at the sky, a flash of orange light enveloping it, before a blast of firey energy shot out of his pointer. Sunny and Aubrey step back in shock, then flinch as the bright projectile collides with the dark sky, giant stacks of casino tokens crashing down from up above, riddling the stage with red and blue.

"...you DOUBLE DOWN!"

"Pretty sure he never said that."

[ *A brawl is surely brewin'! Now go!]

---

After a year of being in basically hiatus, Dark of Many Names is up and running!

To be perfectly honest, this chapter WAS going to be the longest one yet (like 20+ pages worth) but I've figured that maybe setting high standards for a beginning fic writer is maybe a bad idea, so consider this chapter part one of two!

Also, yeah! Cuphead! The AU has been expanded, both in the Dark World and the Real World, and the cups are just the start! Don't get the wrong idea, they AREN'T going to be part of the CORE4 (OMORI, UTDT, Yume Nikki's main characters and associated ghost friends), none of them will be. They will act as guest stars in a way, maybe serving as background cameos, and perhaps star in a comic or two. As long as they’re considered Indie Games (don't want to get TOO crazy here), they get a shot at appearing! Either way I already have to balance out 8 Main Characters right now and I plan to keep it that way!

That's all from me. See you soon! (Hopefully <w<)