#do we all like the horror? Just me? Well that's fine I'm my own target audience

[ghouljams]

currently Terminally In Love with your fae!Simon au, and it has resulted in some ✨Thoughts✨

so, the bond that’s between Simon and reader — we’ve seen how it functions as a kind of honing beacon that allows Simon to know if reader is being fucked with by any other fae who dare to touch what he’s laid claim to… but from what I could discern the mark reacted so violently and allowed him to come to reader’s rescue solely because it was reacting to foreign fae magic… does it work the same for physical, nonmagical harm?

(and further, asking for the girlies…. what would Simon feel through the bond if the reader were to die 😚)

So glad you asked because it means I get to do some horror stuff. The short answer is Ghost's mark doesn't react the same way to human danger, it just pings Ghost to let him know there's trouble. The long answer is, the mark is stupid and will lash out at anything that is scaring MC, which sometimes includes Simon. Most of the time it just functions as an alarm system, but there's an adjustment period when Simon sort of has to train it on who it's ok to bite.

You've been followed since you got off the train. He's not even being stealthy about it. You make a turn, he turns, you stop, he stops, always a few steps behind you. No one else seems to notice or care. You look over your shoulder and see the same crewneck, the same beady eyes. His lips curve red into a smile when he knows you spot him. Your chest is tight, you try not to look at him. You thought you were past this, always looking over your shoulder isn't a good look. Then again neither is being dead. Better to be paranoid and alive.

It's getting dark. You don't live that far from the station, at least you didn't think you did. Maybe it's fear making the street feel longer, emptier. You pick up the pace, hearing the sentiment echoed behind you. The thud of footsteps getting progressively louder and closer, until you're forced to sprint. The effort is wasted immediately as you're grabbed and dragged into the nearest alley. Your chest squeezes with fear, your heart pounding in your ears as you're thrown against the brick wall. The buzz under your skin expands and contracts with your breaths, trying to do anything but calm you down. You think it might actually be driving your anxiety higher, towards a full blown panic, as the man grips your arms tight and grins down at you. 

"Don't you know it's dangerous for little girls to wander alone at night?" He asks, he's close enough you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Your skin hurts where he touches you, bubbling with something you can't put a name to. The buzzing doesn't fit right, it slams against your ribs as you draw in shuddering breaths, there’s nothing for it to latch onto. You glance towards the mouth of the alley, the street was so empty, who would see you? This isn't right, he told you you'd be safe-

Something wet hits your face. The buzzing under your skin is reaching a fever, shaking you to your bones. You look up at the man, at the thick red and black mud falling from between his lips. He gives a wet cough. Your eyes drag to the black talons protruding from his chest, a hole punched through his ribs as if it were paper. The ribs themselves are warped outward and folded back away from the intrusion, more like wire than bone. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight, from the slick clawed hand dragging its way backwards through the viscera as you feel your buzzing start to move.

The silhouette that the collapse of your aggressor reveals is abyssal. Absorbing the shadows of the rest of the alley in a way you've never seen before. The air around it swirls with them. It's holding the man's heart in one clawed hand, tipping it's head back to swallow the organ whole. You are pretty sure you're having a panic attack. The abyss moves towards you like a ghost, and the buzz under your skin takes hold and forces you to MOVE.

The nose your fist collides with is startlingly human.

"You little bitch," Ghost snarls, making a grab for you as you sprint from the alley. Your feet slide against the sidewalk as you round the corner. The buzz under your skin rears back and strikes as his claws just miss you. "Not me you stupid-" he swears, you think he swears, you don't understand it but the buzz cowers. 

You don't stop. Not even when you pass the door to your flat. You run because you can hear him running after you, can hear the scratch of his claws on brick and concrete as he tries to grab you. The gouges that he leaves in everything he touches, you don’t need to imagine what he could do to you, you saw it. You catch a glimpse of him as you turn a corner, his teeth are bared, his movements wild and animalistic. 

His claws wrap around your throat, and you’re slammed into a wall for the second time tonight. He’s huge when he presses against your back, his chest expanding around his labored breathing in tandem with yours. You try to turn your head to look at him and he yanks your head back to stare at the stars. You both breathe, the night filled with the sound of your desperation. You swing your arm behind you to try and hit him, anything to make yourself more difficult prey. He catches your wrist easily and twists it behind your back, growling in your ear as he leans his weight on you.

“Not Me,” He tells you, it thrums through you like a universal truth, the buzz under your skin going warm and shivery, “You don't run from me. Not unless I tell you.” You nod, desperate to do something to ease your situation. “Good girl.”

His hand slides through your hair, fingers pressing to your forehead, and it all goes black.

You jolt awake shaking like a leaf. You press a hand to your mouth, choking down a sob. You’re terrified, it’s too dark in here, your skin feels like it’s been scrubbed raw, you feel like you’ve run a marathon. It must have been a nightmare, it must have been.

Simon turns on the light by the bed, woken up by your movements. “What’s wrong?” He asks, still half asleep. You shake your head, trying to get the shaking to stop. You feel like your body is trying to rip itself apart. Simon reaches a hand towards you and you jerk away, falling in a heap off the edge of the bed. You scurry away from him, you need distance, you need to get away from him. From the nightmare. Your back hits the wall as Simon stands. 

“What did I say?” His eyes tear holes through you, you press against the wall trying to make yourself small as he stalks towards you, “Not. Me.”

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗻𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): nsfw, smut with no plot, needy yel

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit wlw smut, wlw sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, kinda public sex, kinda cnc, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 2.6k

requested?: yes, you can find the request right here

note: The winner of the poll is hereeee!! Nonnieeee, it's finally here! I really hope you like it, it was so thrilling to write this lol. Thank you, anon, for this request ily. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love you, guys <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

Yelena squinted her left eye as the other one adjusted her vision through her rifle's sight.

Her mind was set on one thing only, and that was the man she was currently staring at. She didn’t know who he was, she was barely given his name and the place where she and her team would find him and that was the end of the story. She didn’t need to know more, nor that they would have let her either way.

She was supposed to take him out, making it look like an accident, a shooting, a terrorist attack. The Red Room didn’t care how, they just wanted him out of the picture and that was exactly what she was going to do.

Yelena didn’t know what she was doing, well, technically she did. But she wasn’t aware of it. She was one of the first subjects to have been tested the mind control gas on and now she had lost all senses of a moral compass. Her mind was completely clouded, full of her own thoughts but her mind wouldn’t listen to them. Her mind listened to The Red Room and did as she was told to.

“I’ve got eyes on the target,” she muttered, her voice being picked up by her team through her earpiece. “Where are my explosives?”

“We’re almost done.”

“Come on, guys. He’s about to leave, we have to be quick,” she said anxiously.

When she was given her target’s file, she was instructed to memorise his routine. The man woke up at 7am, left for work at 8. On mondays he would go out for lunch, on tuesdays he would just order something to have it delivered at work. At 7pm he would be ready to go back home, but before that he would always stop at his local cafe. It was now Yelena realised that he always did so so she could see the lovely waitress tending to his table.

And any minute now he was going to walk out the door and Yelena would pull the trigger, the bombs would go off at her command, distracting everyone and she could get a clean shot. At night the local news would communicate the tragedy, her target being the only casualty and she was sure they would claim it to be a terrorist attack or something similar, still she did not care.

“Guys, hurry the fuck up!” she couldn’t fail this mission, they couldn't fail or they will all face the consequences.

“We’re done, bombs are to explode in minus 2 minutes.”

“Roger that, let’s get this over with,” she said, adjusting her rifle aiming right at her target.

She was already annoyed, she appreciated the fact that being hidden on the rooftop of a building meant none of her partners could see her. She was almost going to lose it. Things didn't go as smoothly as she had planned but it was fine, she wouldn't fail them.

An explosion was heard a couple of metres away from her, people started shouting and running in fear afraid for their lives. Yelena watched as her target did the same, she could tell he was terrified, his eyes were wide open in horror.

She was ready to finally pull the trigger when something else got her whole attention —you.

You were running back and forth, helping people up, getting them to a safe place. She could tell you were worried and afraid, and your forehead was slightly bleeding, but that didn’t stop you from helping as many as you could. Her brows furrowed as she stared at you, her heart sinking into her tummy, her heartbeat speeding up and it felt as if someone was hammering her brain.

“Yelena, status on target,” the voice took her out of her thoughts, burying all the new emotions deep down inside.

“I’m on it,” she said, once again adjusting her rifle, this time there won’t be any inconveniences.

But she was wrong. Another bomb went off, this time a car set on fire, and you were right there watching the whole thing. You cried out loud, scared for your life. But you weren’t alone, the target was right beside you. She couldn't take a shot while you were right there. There wasn’t supposed to be any collateral damage, that was how Widows did things, the only casualty being the one who they were supposed to take out.

“Fuck!” she needed to get you out of there.

“Yelena, what’s—?”

“Lerato, I’m gonna need you to take my spot. Take him out.”

“What? But you are—”

“Do as you are told, I’ve got something to deal with,” she said, leaving the rifle on the rooftop for her partner to find.

Her eyes were set on you as she ran down to meet you. She didn’t think twice and just grabbed your hand and pulled you towards her. You were so shaken that you didn’t realise you were being pulled away by a stranger until the both of you started running away.

“What are you—? Who are you?” but Yelena wouldn’t answer you. “Hey! No, stop! Please, don’t take me. Please!”

“Just keep going,” she said, getting a firm grip on you, scared that you would run away.

The two of you stopped five blocks away from the chaos, she gently pushed you inside an abandoned building.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, not waiting for you to freak out even more.

“I, I— I can’t breathe,” you said, gasping for air.

“Hey, it’s okay. You are safe now, it’s okay,” she got closer to you, reaching for your hand and resting it on her steady heartbeat. “Here. Focus on my heart, try to steady yours.”

“I can’t—,”

“It’s okay, just breathe,” she motioned for you to copy her as she took a deep breath in and then she breathed out.

After a minute of breathing in and out, you felt your heart beating at a regular pace again. Still you were scared of what you had just witnessed and being alone with a stranger didn’t make things better.

You cleared your throat, “why did you take me?” you ask carefully.

Her green eyes found yours, her brows were slightly burrowed. She was lost in her mind, going over the last few minutes and everything that had happened before she took you away. She didn’t know why she did that. She could have had someone take you away and she could have taken the shot. But for some reason she couldn’t quite explain, she didn’t.

She didn’t take her eyes away from you but still she didn’t answer your question.

“Lerato, did you take the shot?”

“Yes, the target's dead. Just got confirmation from Helen. We’re heading back,” she heard as the girl struggled to breathe. She was probably running. “Where are you, Yel—?”

Before she could finish, Yelena took the earpiece out, throwing it to the ground and stepping on it, losing all sort of communication with her team. Something she will regret later but now she wasn't thinking properly.

“Shot? What are you talking about? Who are you?” your tone was filled with worry and fear.

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise,” she smiled at you, trying to comfort you.

“What’s going on? I don’t, I don’t understand…” you sounded desperate. And you were, a fucking car exploded right in front of you, you were about to lost your shit again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she whispered gettin closer to you. You could feel the warmth radiating from her body. “This doesn’t make any sense, I know, I’m sorry,” she dropped the tough act, wanting to be as gentle as she could with you.

“What are you—?” you swallowed hard as you watched her tug a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I just,” she licked her lips, your eyes watching her carefully. “There’s something a need to do.”

The closer Yelena got to you, the more she felt like herself again. There was something about you that just felt right. She couldn’t put her finger around it, but she felt good, you felt good and she wanted more of that. She needed more of that, of you.

Slowly but surely her lips found the soft skin of your neck, you let out a moan as soon as she made contact. You lost all sense of reality for a few seconds as she bit and kissed your sensitive skin. But then you came back to your senses and pushed her away from you.

“No. Don’t…” you said, but deep down you wanted to eat your words. “Who are you? What is this?

Yelena backed up, confusion written all over her face as she also didn’t quite know what was going on with her.

“I don’t know either, okay? This has never happened to me before but… Look, I don’t have much time, they’re probably already looking for me—.”

“Looking for you?”

She nodded, “You are doing something to me, alright? I don’t know what it is, I’m not in control,” you noticed her breathing was getting heavy. “You are doing something to me, and I— I need you…”

“You need me?”

“Will you help me out?”

“I, I don’t under—.”

“It’s okay, just do as I tell you, okay?” her voice was so soft that you just couldn’t deny her.

You could only nod at her, getting lost on her mesmerising bright eyes. Her lips found yours, in a desperate kiss, tongues fighting one against the other, her teeth bit your bottom lip, moans escaping from the both of you. You felt your body warming up under her touch and felt your tummy setting on fire as her finger squeezed the flesh on your waist.

She pressed her chest into yours, making you take a few steps back and finally you hit the cold wall, a shiver crawled up your spine. Yelena slipped her knee in between your already slightly parted thighs and gently pressed it against your clothed core.

Her fingers traced the curve of your ass to finally get into your panties, you were already wet for her and she had barely touched you. She felt like she could get used to this, to you. Seeking for both comfort and pleasure in each other, two things The Red Room had taken away from her. But maybe, with your help she could get that and more back. You groaned into her lips the moment she pushed two of her fingers inside of you.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

“You like that?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop, please,” your hips moved into her fingers, wanting her to keep on thrusting them in and out of you.

“I won’t.”

Soon enough her fingers picked up their pace and the only thing that could be her was Yelena’s finger sloppily thrusting into your cunt and the loud moans coming out of your mouth, which were quickly silenced by Yelena’s lips.

You had just met the woman and she had you almost falling to your knees. You could feel it too, she was different than any other person you had ever met before. It was as if she was intoxicating, and the only thing you wanted at the moment was to get drunk on her.

“Faster, please.”

And she did as told, like she always had. But this time she felt like she had a choice, and she chose to please you, she didn’t mind being at your mercy. She could tell you were close to your release, so she got on her knees, took your trousers and panties down and pressed her lips to your soaking wet cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned out, your hand reaching out for her shoulder in some kind of support.

She bit, licked, sucked and kissed your core like a starved woman, which she was actually. She could count with her fingers all the times she had been intimate with someone else in The Red Room. She didn’t have time for things like this in there, she barely had time to take a breath.

So she enjoyed this, eating you out, getting whimpers and groans out of your pretty lips, making your legs tremble. She slipped her tongue inside of you, her nose hitting your clit and you felt like it was all becoming too much for you to handle. She felt your nails digging into her shoulders and then a second later you cried out, getting your juices all over Yelena’s lips.

Yelena moaned into your cunt and she sucked all of your juices, not wanting nor even one bit to go to waist. Once she was done, she pulled your trousers and panties back up, stood up and crashed her lips into yours, wanting for you to have a taste of yourself as well.

Your legs literally gave up on you as she kissed you, and then your butt hit the ground. Yelena took that opportunity and decided you needed to return the favour. So as best as she could, she took part of her suit off for you to work her magic on her cunt.

Yelena knew that she wasn’t going to last long, she was already so wet and on edge, she just needed some of your help to finally come. She knew you had to be quick for her to get her sweet release, so without a warning she pushed your head in between her thighs and soon enough she felt your lips beginning to work. You pushed two fingers inside of her while you sucked on her clit.

She could feel her orgasm getting closer, it was a shame she couldn’t keep this going on for a while more, but any minute now her team would be on her ass.

“Fuck, keep going,” she had your hair on her fist, helping you out.

Yelena buck her hips into your lips picking the pace and with a loud ‘fuck’ she came onto your lips. It was as if she was on cloud 9, she had never felt something like this before, not even with those few girls in The Red Room. This was new and thrilling, and she felt more like herself again. Like that little girl who was once free and unaware of the danger she was getting into. She felt like she belonged. But soon enough the happy bubble she had created for the two of you popped.

“I need you to listen carefully, okay?” she said, helping you up on your feet while the two of you tried to catch your breaths. She quickly put back her suit and cupped your cheeks to get your attention. “You need to leave. Run, run as fast as you can. Don’t look back.”

From the corner of her eyes Yelena could see some shadows getting closer, her team was there, ready to take her away.

“What? What about you? Where are you going?” your mind was rushing with thoughts, not wanting to leave the beautiful woman.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” she lied, but it was for the better. She needed you to be okay, she could handle The Red Room, she always had.

“No,” you protested. “Don’t leave me,” you felt tears burning your eyes.

“I’ll find you again, I promise,” she caressed your cheek one last time, leaving a peck on the corner of your lips. “Go!” she ordered you.

And so you did, leaving Yelena behind much to your dismay, unaware that she was being taken back by her team to drug her up once again. But you broke her out of the mind control, and Yelena was sure you would do it one more time. And as many times as it’d take for her to be free.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Going along with the Nikke train, because clearly ass. And because I like Exia.

Anyway, may I request Neon with an S/O who is just as trigger-happy as her? Two overly excitable people with weaponry makes me feel happy.

(Bonus points for S/O bringing a smol gun but it is almost the strongest thing in existence.)

(GoV: NIKKE) Neon's S/O being gun-crazed like her

Sounds like you need a Noisy Cricket. ...Does anyone even know what I'm referencing, or am I showing my age again?

Finally, Neon had someone who saw the light of overwhelming firepower!

It's no wonder to Counters why Neon fell in love with S/O, the moment they brought their own small armory, she had heart eyes upon first sight.

Much of Neon and S/O's free time consisted of going to the Firing Range to test out what kind of weapons and ammo could create the most devastating boom!

(Neon) "HAHAHAAAAA! YES! LOOK AT THE BULLETS TEAR THROUGH THE TARGET!"

(S/O) "RECOIL INJURIES, WHAT RECOIL INJURIES?! HAHA-"

Everyone watched in mild amusement and horror at S/O's arm getting brutally beaten as they tested out Neon's gun since she wanted to share her love for stronger guns.

Forgetting that S/O was human, and couldn't tank the recoil like a Nikke could.

(Anis) "...Commander, why did you think we needed to add a second Neon to the team?"

(Commander) sigh "Don't ask me, ask HQ..."

But what had piqued Neon's interest above all was S/O's weapon of choice for operations.

When the squad went to the surface, all of Counters carried their rifles, and even the Commander had a pistol for desperate measures.

Meanwhile, S/O had something even smaller than a pistol. It looked like a child's toy.

The squad paused as Neon made a noise that caught their attention, the other three watching their conversation from a distance.

Neon eyed S/O's "gun", one eye peering closely at it, making her scoff.

(Neon) "What the heck is that thing!? It looks so puny!"

(Anis) "That's what she sai-"

(Commander) "Anis, please."

(S/O) "What? It's my weapon!"

(Neon) "Weapon?! That can't even be called a pistol, your finger barely fits in!"

(Anis) "PFFFT-"

(Rapi) "Anis."

(Neon) "Come on, you're a believer of firepower like I am! What's that gun going to do, make laser noises until our enemies die of embarrassment?!"

(S/O) "It's not the size that matters, Neon!-"

(Anis) "OW! OH COME ON, THEY'RE MAKING IT TOO EASY-!"

(Neon) "It absolutely does! What caliber does that gun even fit, nerf darts?!"

(S/O) "...What's a nerf dart?"

(Neon) "Not sure, think it's some kind of old earth toy, but my point still stands!"

(S/O) "When we fight something, you'll see how valuable it is!"

(Neon) "Fine, prove me wrong!"

When combat finally broke out, S/O was the first one to take a shot.

With a single pull of their trigger, they were sent flying back as the shot vaporized an entire enemy patrol in a massive explosion.

(Neon) "WHA...HOW?! YOU NEED TO LET ME USE THAT!"

S/O poked their head out of the rubble, seemingly unharmed.

(S/O) "No way, you were mocking it earlier!"

(Rapi) "Sir, that more than likely alerted everything to our presence. We need to move-"

(Neon) "With a gun like that, we can take care of everything out here! Master, please give me authorization to-'

(Commander) "No. And S/O, you don't pull your weapon out until things get hairy, understood?"

The couple looked extremely disappointed.

(S/O & Neon) "Aaaawwww!"

(Anis) "I mean, they kinda have a point, Commander. That gun might as well be the world's smallest artillery cannon."

(Commander) "...Just how do you reload that thing?"

(S/O) "Honestly? I never needed to. It doesn't really run out, and I've been using this thing for a while-"

(Neon) "WHAT?! OH NOW YOU HAVE TO LET ME USE IT!"

[freetobeeyouandme]

Chapter 1: The Cleric Zone-of-Truth's Me

It's time!! The first chapter of my Byler Isekai AU is now up on Ao3.

I'm finally ready to start posting this and y'all have no idea how excited I am! All fanfic is self-indulgent, but this one has been more so than others, which feels very appropriate, considering it is 100% the kind of thing Mike would daydream about in class (Cin's words). I also have to credit @iryfic and @fizzseed for the concept. They were discussing a different fanfic idea, had a misunderstanding and came up with this…and since we all wanted to see it, I sat down and wrote it :D

Tags: M, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Fantasy AU, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Horror, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

Summary:

Mike Wheeler hates High School, so when he almost dies and falls through a portal to another world, he’s not going to complain. Especially not when that world does not only have swords and magic but seems to work exactly according to the rules of his favorite tabletop role-playing game. But his euphoria might be short lived because the party of adventurers he falls in with turns out to be the target of an evil god and the fate of the world might rest on their shoulders. So, exactly like his games of D&D. Except the wanna-be Paladin soon realizes that being a hero is much harder in real life than it is in-game. - Or, Mike gets isekai’d into a world where D&D is real.

An excerpt and taglist below the cut:

Excerpt:

High School has, thus far, been the worst period of Mike Wheeler’s life, so it’s not really a surprise for him when spring break starts the way it does. In many ways he should have seen it coming, and in many ways he could have prevented it. If he’d just biked home right after school, accepting that his one week’s vacation would be nothing but hiding out in his basement some more, playing Atari on his own and working on school assignments, none of this would have happened. But Mike has had a bad year, and it being the anniversary of the week his life went from ‘kinda bad’ to ‘absolute hell’ only makes him stubbornly cling to a moment of reprieve all the more. So what happens is this: He takes the long way home, and he drowns.

The way from school to the Wheeler’s house is a straightforward one, cutting through downtown and then the suburban neighborhood he calls his home. It’s a safe path. But when school lets out, Mike doesn’t feel safe, and he sure as shit doesn’t feel straightforward. He has a weird sense of foreboding, as if tomorrow he’ll wake up to find the police at his doorstep with questions about the disappearance of Eddie Munson – except Eddie has been gone for a year now. Mike would know where the former leader of Hellfire Club was these days if he bothered to ask Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, but Mike hasn’t. He knows Gareth and Jeff were in contact with Eddie through Wayne, but Eddie only sent postcards to his uncle, choosing to ignore his friends, and, well, two could play that game. Eddie was fine, that much Mike knew, but Hellfire had fallen apart in his absence – and worse become the source of ridicule and persecution for its remaining members. So, Mike couldn’t care less what Eddie was doing. Eddie didn’t care about them either, after all.

With Eddie gone, Mike only had his basement, the safety of his own four walls, the only place in the world where the bullies could not get to him. And even at home safety was a strong word considering how concerned his parents still were about him falling prey to satanism and the evil doctrine that they, like the rest of Hawkins, couldn’t quite not believe Hellfire had propagated. They had hidden it better than most, but Mike knew their feelings on his hobbies didn’t differ much from the rest of town. Their opinions rarely did.

And so Mike, contrary to what he had promised his mother, contrary to common sense and every reprimand he can bring in retrospective, doesn’t head straight home. He swings onto his bike and veers sharply in the opposite direction, speeding past houses and streets and those wonderfully concerned citizens who all judge him silently as he runs past them – must judge him, for he is known. His face had been plastered all across town on those posters that had been circulating for months even after Eddie had been found at the end of spring break, alive and hale with his runaway girlfriend, who had been everyone’s real reason of concern, let’s be honest.

He doesn’t slow down until he hits the line of trees outside of town, then jumps out of the saddle to push his bike along their shade.

The woods had been another place of safety, back when he had still been a child. If the rain and the years hadn’t washed it away, the wooden castle that they had played in must still be standing, hidden away in between the trees, safe from the town and their judgment. Sometimes he misses that boy who had been so long gone now that Mike doesn’t even remember his name anymore. His best friend, once, and then overnight nobody as his mother packed him and his brother up and hid from her ex-husband on the other side of the country.

They had only sent a single Christmas card, no return address. Reassurance that they were fine – still alive, happier, even – but also the goodbye they never got to say in person as they disappeared just the same way Eddie had. For a while Mike had kept it in a frame on his desk, as if by clinging to the picture he could keep their friendship alive. He’s not sure where the card had ended up afterwards. Probably the trash.

Mike considers walking into the woods, considers looking for the castle, but he knows he’ll be better of with the memory instead of the real thing. The memory is bittersweet, reality can only disappoint.

Maybe if he had gone down the path of nostalgia, things would have turned out differently. Instead, he continues along the edge of the trees and, eventually, inevitably, into the arms of Troy and James.

He doesn’t see them at first, but they see him.

-

Unofficial Tag List (aka you interacted with my snippet posts, please tell me if you want me to not tag you in the future (or want to be added)): @smalltownwheeler @wheelerpilled @wrong-energy @willthelies @foodiewithdahoodie @doggo9 @gardenfairie @beelikesbyler @beverlysclown @yickarus @sourdough-el @hessolivagant @hesquietoday

[brightbeautifulthings]

Katzenjammer by Francesca Zappia

"They're all so dark, Dad said one day, watching over my shoulder as I worked at the kitchen table. Why don't you paint things like a blue sky, or a field of flowers, or a bird flying on a breeze? Something happy that your mom can put on the fridge. She can put these on the fridge, I said. Maybe just one flower? he asked. There are no flowers where I live, I said."

Year Read: 2023

Rating: 4/5

About: Cat has been stuck in School for as long as she can remember. The hallways slowly expand and contract with School's breathing, the showers run red with blood, and the students have divided themselves into changed and unchanged. While the unchanged hide in the fortress of administration, Cat and her friends haunt the courtyard and hallways. Her best friend is turning into cardboard, and Cat's face has become a cat mask made of her own hardened flesh. There are no doors or windows in or out of School, and something is hunting them down one by one in the hallways. To escape, Cat will have to understand why they're trapped in the first place. Trigger warnings: Some triggers are listed at the end of the review because they include spoilers. Character death, guns, violence, blood/gore, dismemberment, body/eye horror, bullying, slut-shaming, vandalism.

Thoughts: Thanks to @ninja-muse for recommending this book, since I'm not sure I would have found it on my own. This is probably my favorite Francesca Zappia novel to date, and one of the best novels on this subject I've ever read (more on that after the spoilers). However, I believe it's best to go into it not knowing much more than the description provides. This book works extremely well as a slow reveal. What starts out as a mindfuck becomes slow understanding as we realize more or less alongside Cat what is happening in School, and you'd be doing yourself a disservice to read the spoilers if you plan to read this. However, it covers a number of very heavy and potentially triggering topics (and it's difficult to gush about how I think it works without giving things away), so I'll include those thoughts at the end. I can't stress it enough though. If you're not easily triggered, stop here and go read this book!

This is also one of the best examples of uncanny horror that I've read in a long time. Zappia expertly manages to capture the quality of a nightmare without sacrificing the continuity. School is creepy and semi-sentient, and the changes it brings about in half the students are a study in body horror. Perhaps even more terrifying are the parallels it draws to some very real life horrors such as bullying and, indeed, I found the flashback chapters of Cat's surfacing memories of her former life of being targeted, bullied, and slut-shamed at school more difficult to get through than the surreal scenes of hacked up bodies or bloody showers in School. Real life horror always affects me a lot more than the supernatural, and Katzenjammer does an excellent job of balancing both. The ending is cathartic and effective, and there's less of a plot twist than a sort of inevitable, dawning horror-- which is honestly the best kind.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS. TURN BACK BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

Remember how I said that real life horror is always worse than the supernatural or the uncanny? I stand by that statement. Zappia draws such excellent parallels to real life in her uncanny School that it's almost impossible not to realize before Cat does that the traumatic event that put them there was a school shooting. I've read a couple YA novels that handled the subject fine, but I don't think any of them capture it as well as this one. We need something like the supernatural School and the horror of bodies changing in ways we can't explain to fully grasp the senseless horror of gun violence. Killing children makes no more sense than hallways that breathe or girls who turn into their cat masks. It takes Cat the entire novel to understand the horror and absurdity of what's been done to her and to accept it-- that there are reasons but not excuses, and that we will never know all of them. I cried a little at the end, but I think the real life horror of it is too big for tears. Instead, it's a feeling that will sit with me long after I've turned the last page.

[mdhwrites]

The Good of Penacony

I said I wanted to make a blog about the positive elements of Penacony and I meant it, especially since I really enjoyed the new content pretty much until after the first new boss. Some of what came after makes it hard for me to still enjoy what came before but there is plenty of good still, even in this main content.

So, of course, Star Rail 2.0 Spoilers ahead.

So a LOT of what's good is centered around Firefly. For as much as in my original blog I railed against her death, she is this bad trope done EXCEPTIONALLY well. Her scene on the rooftop is the best in all of Star Rail, hands down. Not only that but she doesn't feel like a cinnamon meant to die. She has a real personality, can be distrusting, isn't a complete airhead, still had her own secrets until she died and her own motives and desires. As far as Star Rail characters go, she is genuinely one of the best.

It's why her death hurts so much. I see people trying to joke about it and it causes twinges in my chest. I see people celebrating her and feel joy about it. She is a character who I'm really unhappy to have gone. If the writing was truly just bad, this wouldn't have happened.

A large part of what helps in all of this is that during the time you spend with her, the game drops the mysteries, mostly, and drops its pretensions to genuinely be fun. Instead, it is enthusiastic about its setting in a way we haven't been before. Firefly truly, genuinely loves the dream of Penacony and has a good reason to since it's the only place she can truly live now. She makes the biggest argument anyone could for why the dream must stay. Why it would be such a tragedy for it all to collapse.

I think the time with Sampo is really the only lull with the time with her. 'Sampo' isn't bad mind you. Sparkle may be no fun, part of why I don't like her, but while pretending to be a fun character she gives some good chances to snark and some good jokes. She also introduces neat mechanics and while the Tatalov stuff is entirely pointless, it's a fine distraction. It helps sell the absurdity of dreams.

The dungeons help in this regard too. The dreamscape that's being worked on is majestic and the bird's eye view you have to take to traverse it only helps you drink in the grandeur to this new addition to Penacony. The shooting stars like streaming fireworks are awe inspiring and Firefly is just the cutest little thing with each and every one that you do with her. It's honestly the first time that our party has truly helped add to the atmosphere of a dungeon.

This isn't as true for the Child Dreamscape but that's okay as now we descend into the uncertainty and horror of dreams. This is also part of Penacony's strength from a design perspective. I never felt like the Loufu really supported its own themes too well, nor enhanced its storytelling, with its dungeons. You go through too bland, faceless of environments for that. Penacony is entirely different. The enemies, world design and even how you traverse are genuinely trying to work in parallel with what they're trying to go with for the concept of the planet.

And man... Something Unto Death is a masterfully designed boss. My brother and I were assuming that if Sam was the boss that made sustainers shine (which kind of is true. Sam is awkward as far as a boss fight goes and I'm curious what consensus on him will be) then Unto Death would be the boss for multi-DPS teams. That it was anti-hyper carry.

Which, arguably, it still is. It still wants you rocking at least two DPSes but specifically MULTI target DPSes. Erudition isn't completely the king here though. Because they're starting to acknowledge DoTs as still dealing damage, it's really the Nihility boss and I like that there is one in main content that is specifically weakest to that group. DoT teams struggle after all in the current DPS test focused end game content and having a boss that makes them feel more relevant is a great addition.

Also, I will shout out that despite the fandom thinking the era of Hunt is over, Sam currently appears to be best fought against with Hunt characters. Their speed helps them keep up with Sam, their ults chunking so much weakness off of him is extremely useful if you don't want to have to burn down your own health to get him out of his super state and their overall extremely high damage even outside of ults against this single target mean they can make him suffer the hardest. For as much as I think the Sam fight currently feels like a giant slog, and I worry what a phase 2 and 3 will look like with him, I still respect what they're trying to do with him. If arguably Argenti is a better version of the Yanqing fight though, I'm excited to see what the better Sam fight is.

And there's still plenty of other characters I do like. Gallagher was great in his brief appearance. Misha is adorable and I'm sad we're not getting a companion quest with him. Black Swan might be an idiot right at the end but she is the most competent manipulator amongst the cast of manipulators and at least when she tells me that she's doing it for good reasons, I actually believe her. Heck, I even liked when I first met Aventurine. It's genuinely a problem for me that he's being built up to be the super cool hero of this story next to us that makes me dislike him so much because nothing about his previous appearances sold him that way. An idiot who has gotten too much power, too quickly, and is used to relying on his status getting shut down because he's finally having to deal with people with real power and skills though? I was excited for that with his first couple appearances.

I genuinely really want to like Penacony. The fact that so many things took a step up (I didn't even mention how while the elites might be easy, I think their gameplay and visual designs are amazing) is a really great thing that helped add to the possibility space to the writing. It even started trying to ape Shakespeare by trying to tell us how the story would go from the beginning.

It's just... Nothing about the patch has me excited for where it goes except for the potential for Firefly to come back. Not from the main story at least. That's just a real shame, especially after I actually did manage to get on the hype train for Penacony. I don't usually get to do that.

The last note I'll leave on is my theory for Acheron: If she is an emanator, she is the Emanator of Nihility. She brings things to an end but more importantly for this: She herself is constantly being emptied out. Her lack of memory? Her ability to get lost so easily? Those come from parts of her mind literally being consumed by her nature. It would also explain why she potentially might not know she's an emanator (that's speculation) but also be why she reacts to you the way she does. Not enough of HER is there to not be affected and changed by how you treat her and the emotions you put out. Hence the red text that changes for different players.

And I'll admit that I am excited to see if I'm right. Acheron is probably my favorite Penacony character currently who is still alive and I'll still be pulling on her banner (after it took 160 pulls for Black Swan *sobs*). I just hope Penacony improves, leans more into the dream rather than the mystery and honestly that for a while, Star Rail just stops trying to do mysteries because I don't think they're good at it. Ratio's continuance sucked for it and the thin veneer of it here is dragging everything down.

And that's a shame when so much of it is so high.

======+++++======

For those who want to see me being angrier about it, and talking about how terrible both Firefly and Robin's deaths are, you can find that blog over here. That was admittedly done with a lot more emotion than this blog was but I still stand by it for the most part.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[gothamslostboy]

Hey there! Can I please get a matchup for both The Lost Boys and Scream please? (If not no worries!)

Im a 5'2" female with a very pear shaped body. I have neck length pink hair and blue eyes. Despite my pink hair I usually wear a lot of black and gray with a small hint of pastels. A lot of my outfits actually consists of boots, fishnets, or chains. However I also wear a lot of Hello Kitty and early 2000's cartoon shirts!

I am pansexual, but have a male lean, so I'm fine with whatever character you want to match me with! As for my hobbies I'm very big on writing and reading, dancing, and collecting dolls. My favorite animal is 100% a raccoon though! I actually used to feed and name the ones outside!

I have a hard time deciding if I like comedy or horror movies more, but I do enjoy both feelings. Despite looking edgy and coming off as cold (I'm just really awkward and shy) I'm very bubbly and can definitely be a people pleaser. I love making people laugh but I constantly worry if I'm being too annoying when doing so.

I suppose I should add in that I'm neurodivergent as well and have some slightly annoying stims. I actually got yelled at at work for one of them last week 🙃 They're usually just me air punching people, rocking, or repeating different phrases but they do annoy others sometimes. However I am also extremely forgetful and a bit ditzy, I won't lie.

I hope I'm not missing anything! Thank you:)

Hey anon, I just wanted to say really quickly that I’m sorry you feel like you annoy ppl. From this little description I think you’d be really cool:] I’m also neurodivergent and funnily enough, we share some of the same stims! Don’t worry, you’ll find the ppl who you can be yourself around eventually. hope you’re having a great day🫶

I ship you with…..

SCREAM:

Stu Macher! I hc him with autism so he understands and emphasizes with having “annoying” stims. He won’t judge you, hell he’s probably gonna develop them as his own stims.

You guys are both bubbly people, although he expresses it very obviously, and will probably spend most your time making eachother laugh. He’s also a very blunt person and will tell you straight up how he feels about anything, and prefers if you’d do the same. This makes people believe he doesn’t care about others or their feelings, but he actually cares very much for those close to him. He just needs directness to understand and problem solve.

He’s gonna fidget with your chains and fishnets when cuddling or sitting close to eachother, unless you ask him to stop. You might have to remind him again if he does it subconsciously. He adores ppl with colored hair, and will definitely match with you at some point. He loves your style and will let beg you give him a makeover at least once.

He tries to sit with you to feed raccoons, but he has to much trouble staying still and quiet enough to get close. So instead he just watches from the window smiling and making lil comments to himself like “ooo that’s a big guy”

He’s not a big reader or writer but loves to lay his head in your lap and let you read aloud to him. Any time any song comes on, he’s dragging you to the dance floor, or just on your feet to move. If you don’t want to dance with him, he just dances next to you. He looks at all your dolls and lets you rant about them, but he’s watch Child’s Play one too many times to actual hold or touch them.

You’re in luck bc Stu’s favorite genre is Horror Comedy! Any movie involving either genre is enough for him to watch it at least once or twice.

THE LOST BOYS:

Dwayne! I had a harder time picking one for TLB, but I figured it out in the end. Dwayne is an extremely patient person, especially if he cares about you. The reason Paul and Marko target David for jokes is bc it’s impossible to get a decent reaction out of Dwayne.

He loves how your styles kinda match and buys two matching chains, with little charms representing you two.

He also comes off as cold at first, but once he warms up to you he’s just a protective, sweet guy who wants his loved ones to be happy.

If anyone says anything about your stims, they’re getting hit, and an ass beating if they’re not close to him.

He likes to compare your thoughts on books together, followed by recommendations for eachother. He’s anxiously awaiting for when you finish writing, want to read it as soon as possible.

He won’t initiate dancing, but is more than willing to if you ask. He also buys accessories for your dolls, and ends up loving them almost as much as you do

[moonchild-writes]

Everybody's a Suspect (It's a Scream, Baby! chap. 4)

Summary: Despite still being suspicious of Stu, Lyss and the boys go to the video store to see Randy

Warnings: Swearing, angst, mediocre writing

Alyssa walked out of the school with Billy as she led him to where her motorcycle was. She still wasn't sure if being nice to him was the right thing to do. He was an asshole, but it was hard to deny that he was extremely charismatic. Lyss screamed as Stu ran over to them and jumped away when the taller teenager laughed at her.

"So what do you say, Lyss? Do you want to come to my party tonight?" he asked as Alyssa scoffed.

"There's a curfew." she said bluntly before Billy shrugged.

"It might be fun." he commented as Alyssa looked at him, then back at Stu.

"Besides, Sid will be there. You can watch her!" he offered, finally getting her to give in and nod slightly.

"Fine. Not like anyone at home will know I'm gone," she admitted as both boys smiled. "Oh, before we head back to my place, I have to stop by the video store. Randy's got a movie for me." she said as Stu looked at Billy in surprise.

"Wait, you two are going back to your place? What's going on?" he teased playfully as Alyssa scoffed.

"Nothing. Billy just wants to make sure I get home safe. His house isn't too far from mine, so whatever." she shrugged as she grabbed the keys and handed them to Billy. "If you so much as scratch my motorcycle, I will kill you." she warned as he smiled at her playfully and took the keys.

"Don't worry. I'll be careful."

•¨•.¸¸☆･ﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨•

Alyssa pushed the door open as she and the boys went inside. Lyss made a beeline for Randy, with Stu close behind. Stu deliberately bumped into Randy, causing him to drop the tapes before Lyss knelt down to pick them up and hand them back.

"Thanks Lyss," he said as she offered a small smile.

"Do you still have my movie on hold?" she asked and he nodded, kneeling down to pick it up for her, handing it to her as Stu leaned over the shelves and looked at the case.

"Army of Darkness, seriously?" he asked as she looked back at him. "That's the worst Evil Dead movie!"

"Yeah, for an idiot who can't love horror-comedy," she scoffed in return. "It's not supposed to be taken seriously. It's a stupid movie for the sake of being stupid."

"Alright." Stu said dramatically before turning his attention to Randy. "You comin' to my fiesta tonight?"

"Yeah, I'm off early... curfew and all." he said as Alyssa smiled a little.

"Hey, what's that werewolf movie with ET's mom in it?" a blonde teenager asked as the trio looked at her.

"The Howling, Horror. Straight ahead." Randy said as she walked away. "Oh, that's in poor taste..." he added as Lyss and Stu looked over to see Billy talking to some girls from their school.

"What?" Stu asked as he and Lyss looked back at Randy.

"If you were the only suspect in a senseless bloodbath, would you be standing in the horror section?"

"It was just a misunderstanding, he didn't do anything." Stu defended as Randy shook his head.

"You're such a little lapdog. He's got killer printed all over his forehead, right?" he said as he looked at Lyss and she shrugged.

"Who knows?" she admitted and he sighed and shook his head.

"Okay! Really?" Stu scoffed as he and Lyss walked down the aisle with Randy. "Then why'd the cops let him go, smart guy?"

"Because they don't watch enough movies." Randy replied. "This is standard horror movie stuff. Prom Night revisited, man!"

"Oh yeah? Why would he want to kill his own girlfriend?" Stu asked while Alyssa looked at some movies on the shelves.

"There's always some bullshit reason to want to kill your own girlfriend. That's the beauty of it; simplicity." Randy explained to them. "Besides, if it gets too complicated, you lose your target audience."

"Well, what's his reason?"

"Maybe Sidney didn't wanna have sex with him." Randy admitted when Lyss looked back at him.

"What? She's saving herself for you?" Stu scoffed and the teen shrugged.

"Maybe... hey, now that Billy tried to maim her, do you think she'd go out with me?" he asked quietly as Alyssa stared at him for a few moments before walking off on her own to where Billy was.

She hated to admit it, but she had feelings for Randy. She knew he had feelings for Sid and not her, so she had decided to push them down and keep them out of the way so she wouldn't get hurt... but it never made it any easier to hear how much he wanted to go out with her. As she approached Billy, he turned to face her and frowned when he saw how down she seemed.

"I'm going home... I already paid for the movie, so..." she said quietly as she started for the door. Billy grabbed her arm as she pushed the door open and pulled her back as she looked up at him.

"Hey, what happened?" he asked as she shrugged.

"Just... Randy being Randy." she said simply as Billy looked over at Randy and Stu just as Randy had his little outburst.

"You go wait outside. We'll be out soon." Billy looked back at her as he patted her arm and she nodded slightly and walked out to her bike as she took a deep breath.

Of course, he wouldn't like her as much as he liked Sidney. But she didn't blame him, Sid was a really nice person and it wasn't hard to adore her. It just hurt because no matter what she did, no matter how much she wanted him to see her as more than just a friend, it wouldn't happen.

[cube-cumb3r]

The Means Reflect On The Ends Actually, (c!Dream & the conditioning of Exile)

What was the point of exile, storywise? What does it say about c!Dream? Sure, it’s showcasing how far he’s willing to go to achieve his own ends, but I don't think all discussion about what exile tells us about c!Dream should start and end there.

Dream is not cruel for cruelty’s sake. Dream’s end goal is not to hurt as many people as possible. He views his cruelty are “necessary evils”, and he doesn’t dwell much on whether the things he does are “good” or “bad”. He’s fully aware he’s hurting people and he ultimately thinks that hurting people, to the extent that he does, is worth it. That being said, while Dream has an ends justify the means mindset, but the truth is, the means absolutely reflect on the ends. His true intentions aren’t a mystery, it’s very clear in the text that his ultimate goal is unity, but why does he want unity? And what would said unity entail?

(Before this essay starts I have to do an ad break to promo @daggryet's very helpful [transcriptions from the exile streams], which I'll be using a lot of. Thanks for the very helpful resource.)

TW: Relatively extensive discussion abt the abuse in exile arc & the effects of said abuse.

Firstly, I don't think you should deny his relationship to control. A through-line of his character is achieving harmony through control, and more specifically, obedience. There’s a reason why he tends to single out Tommy the most. It’s not actually because Tommy is remarkably more troublesome than anyone else on the server, but rather, because his disruptive nature is at Dream’s expense. Tommy is the only character who’s consistently over and over again refused to respect Dream’s authority, and though he isn’t particularly threatening on his own, it’s the sentiment itself that’s dangerous. Similarly, this is why he has consistently targeted L’manburg, moreso than any other faction on the server such as, say, Badlands, El Rapids. It’s almost as if they represented the sentiment, “Hey, why are we listening to you anyway? Why can’t we be listening to anyone else?”, which is why he crushed them, over, and over again. What if everyone figures out they can just stop listening to him? What then?

We talk a lot about the effects exile had on Tommy, and rightfully so, but we don’t talk enough about what Dream was actually doing. What was the purpose of exile? Was it just a way to get closer to the discs? Just a means to an end? What was the end?

TOMMY: What, what could you possibly want more from me? You’ve tortured me.

DREAM: I’m just keeping an eye on you, Tommy.

TOMMY: What does that mean?!

DREAM: I’m just, I’m making sure that you’re not up to no good.

TOMMY: But, how, you’ve exiled me, you fucking stupid, manipulative fucking green bastard!

DREAM: I know! And you know why I did that?

TOMMY: Yes? 

DREAM: No, you know why?

TOMMY: Why?

DREAM: Because you don’t listen to me ever, you’re the only person who doesn’t ever listen to me. If I tell you to do something, you’re like “no, fuck you!”, and you go and like do like the exact opposite.

[full transcription]

As much as I have to preface this with that this is speculative and we may not have any irrefutable confirmation, I think it's very likely that it's literally just what Dream is saying he's doing. Tommy is the one person who refuses to listen to him, and he wants him to listen. Exile was not only conditioning Tommy to believe that nobody other than Dream cares about him, not only conditioning Tommy to be entirely reliant on him, but also conditioning Tommy to listen to him, without question, without disobeying. And that is such a significant and reoccurring motif for it to arguably just be the intended reading of exile.

Abuse is a vague term that encompasses a lot of abusive practices. There are a good handful that apply to exile, I'm sure if you ask someone qualified they'll be able to provide you a nice handy list, but ultimately, all of them target Tommy's own sense of agency and autonomy, and it all revolves around power and control. Dream creates rituals purely to disarm him, threatens him and punishes him when he doesn't listen, and rewards him when he complies (or rather, conditions Tommy into thinking that not being punished is a reward).

TOMMY: [begins throwing his armor and axe down for DREAM to explode.]

DREAM: No, no, it’s fine.

TOMMY: Re-really?

DREAM: Yeah. Today’s the party, right?

---

TOMMY: So when can I- no, I wanna go back. I… hey, thanks for letting me keep my armour today.

DREAM: You’re welcome.

TOMMY: Kinda nice of you.

[full transcription]

Dream isn’t only hurting Tommy for the sake of hurting him. People tend to frame it as if Dream Just Hates Tommy, but that’s not true. He finds Tommy fun, in a twisted way. There are a lot of moments in exile where they’re both on very good terms and Dream is friendly with Tommy. But, it's also all part of horror of exile, making Tommy reliant on him and his company, getting him to doubt his sense of reality, making him question whether his friends back in L’manburg ever cared about him at all, and possibly questioning whether he’s imagining the abuse as well, Dream is so kind to him after all, why would he ever want to hurt him?

Over the course of exile Tommy agency and sense of self start to deteriorate as well as his mental health, he starts worrying about what Dream would think, starts asking Dream for permission, going out of his way to avoid upsetting him, his only friend, his only reliable caring companion.

TOMMY: Yeah, so I’m thinking we- and then I can- but the thing is; so recently my buddy, Dream, has been doing this thing where he, uhm… it makes sense, though, because I’m not in his land anymore, but he takes my shit from me, so I need to make sure- […]

---

RANBOO: Yeah, so what do you say- does Dream like take your armor? Is that what you said?

TOMMY: I don’t know, he just- hey man, I just follow the boss.

[full transcription]

TOMMY: “Visit Techno” no, no, what would Dream think? […]

---

TOMMY: I’ve had a little idea, by the way, and I wanna know what you think, and also if I’m allowed

DREAM: Okay?

[full transcription]

TOMMY: Yeah, I know he’s actually - he’s sort of my- he’s borderline my owner, Big Q, so I’m not really sure.

MEXICAN DREAM: He’s your dad?

TOMMY: No, no-

MEXICAN DREAM: Ey! Ey, Papa Thomas!

TOMMY: No, no, we’re- as in labor.

MEXICAN DREAM: You gotta teach your child some manners.

[full transcription]

Dream’s outburst in exile after finding Tommy’s chests, is arguably one of Dream's most emotionally honest (and reckless) moments in exile considering it was what made Tommy realize he needed to save himself and escape. And it's punishing Tommy for going behind his back and planning to revolt.

TOMMY: I’m really, no, I’m really sorry, though. Why don’t we just pretend this never- yeah, let’s, shall we just pretend this-?

DREAM: Sorry doesn’t cut it, Tommy. Listen, I’ll leave you here to think about what you did-

TOMMY: What about the nether? What about the nether, my friends, what-?

DREAM: No! You can’t go to the nether, no one can come here, you are alone, okay? As soon as I think that you have changed, have become somebody who isn’t going to hide and lie and try and revolt; then people can visit you again. You can go to the nether again. But for now - no, no one can. You- I was being very lenient. Yesterday I let you go into the Dream SMP on a temporary pass, and then what do I find out the next day?

TOMMY: I’m so sorry.

DREAM: I have been nothing but gracious to you. Tommy. Think about what you did.

---

Exile wasn’t only a means to getting closer to the discs or getting Tommy out of the way. Exile was a means to conditioning Tommy into listening and respecting Dream as his superior. Dreams solution to Tommy being disruptive and troublesome was to [physically beat], emotionally abuse, and psychologically condition him into obedience. Only seeing exile as a testament to how far how willing he was go to meet his ends is reductive, and not acknowledging what Dream considers to be a “problem” and what he considers to be “solutions” is to not engage with his worldview. You have to take exile into account and what it actually says about his ideals of harmony and unity.

---

TOMMY: I can’t go back… I can’t go back, and see my friends and see Tubbo. This is a shithole! He wasn’t- he wasn’t here ‘cause he was my friend. He was here to- what did he say on the first day? Got a little bug that he can’t flig off? I’m the only person who never does exactly what he says?

TOMMY: I’m the only person who never does what he says. Me! He said that to me, didn’t he?

TOMMY: He was here to watch me.

[full transcription]

Dream’s relationship to Tommy can (and honestly should) be compared to his relationship to the entire server at large. Not to imply that He Literally Wants To Abuse The Server, but rather the he views the server revolting as a problem, and the solution? Well. The [prison]. The hall of attachments. It’s no surprise that the disc war, a conflict that was initially only primarily between Dream and Tommy*, is suddenly about everyone. Bargaining and blackmailing using attachments, something Dream initially only subjected Tommy to, to keep him under his control, is now a means to control everyone.

Is Dream's goal of unity for the sake of the overall happiness and quality of life of the people living within said unity? I don’t doubt that this at some point in time was true. But, the fact that he’s willing to ruin lives and long-term psychologically destroy people over it, means that his goal isn’t unity for the sake of the people living in his ideal version of the server, but at their expense. Him believing he needs to control people to maintain unity and harmony means that he believes himself to know what's best for people moreso than the people themselves, and therefore he's the only one responsible enough to make decisions for them. And it also means that his motives has warped and twisted overtime, it’s likely that he’s become so fixated on the goal of unity itself that he’s lost track of why he wanted it in the first place.

Anyway. Stop buying into Dream's own self-justification of "ends justify the means" and put his deeply flawed and broken worldview and view of people under a little bit of goddam scrutiny.

[bitchesgetriches]

Hi bitches, I'm a bit nervous to ask this but I'm being genuine I promise. I don't want you to think I'm some biggoted old fool.

Could you please help me understand how sex work isn't exploitative? I hear a lot of people saying "it's just the same as normal work, it's better than my job at Amazon/target/wherever and no one is calling that work exploitative" or "well you wouldn't do YOUR job if you didn't have to either" but like, checkout work IS hella exploitative??? Most work IS hella bullshit that only exists to feed the capitalist machine. I DO fight for a world where work is a choice. I understand why The Right would love onlyfans, but why is The Left lining up to defend it?

Sex work - especially things like onlyfans - is overwhelmingly done by the poor or as a way to escape poverty ("I was being paid shit in my previous job, now I can afford an apartment" is something I hear a lot). But in doing so it transfers all the risks to them, it's essentially turning sex work into the gig/hustle economy, isn't it? You end up on a zero hour contract with no union, health, benefit, maternity protection, in a job that can be hella dangerous and have serious emotional repercussions and requires huge emotional labour and/or disconnect and I don't really understand why we're just cheering this along?

I don't object on moral grounds. Sex is sex. Consenting adults do what you want. People are well within their moral and legal rights to choose to sell sex, (or the emotional labour that comes with it), or photos, or whatever they want - just like they are free to go work for target. I absolutely understand the need to - and support - decriminalisation of sex work, the need to make it safe and secure for sex workers, but I just can't see why ~the world at large~ sees huge numbers of young 18 year old women being herded and encouraged into joining Onlyfans - in several cases with people saying "can't wait for you to turn 18 so you can have an OF" so the patriarchy can pay £3-4 a month to see their tits and people cheer this along? One or two get rich, I'm sure, but who is getting REALLY rich? It's the old white men that own onlyfans and take a 20% cut, as always. It's the patriarchy working as it always has. Allowing one or two women to succeed while holding the rest down for exploitation. Except now it's mixing with the worst bits of 21st C capitalism, too. Surely all OnlyFans is is Uber for Sex work, using the gig economy to de-unionise and isolate workers, strip them of benefits, make them into independent contractors and profit off them?

Sure, it's a step up from kidnapping girls from Romania to have them do porn, but is that really the bar? Can we maybe just stop for a second and imagine a world where rich white men don't get richer off the emotional and physical labour of women? Where the other available work options aren't so shit that a zero-hour career with no employment protections, a limited lifespan, in a dangerous industry doesnt look like heaven in comparison? Sure, you can work for three years, sell your emotional labour, and pay for college. But why are we cheering that instead of asking why this has to happen in the first place? We're fiddling around the edges of the system, giving it a makeover, and rebadging it "female empowerment" instead of actually changing anything fundamental. Poor women sell sex. A few are allowed to break out. Men get to leer at naked women for pennies a year. Rich men get richer. Plus ça change. Not even to mention that because of the ~emotional~ connection that onlyfans gives beyond porn, we're embedding the idea that women are "money in, girlfriend out" machines. I know several girls that won't even *talk* to men in any situation without a minimum $50 fee. And apparently the fact we also have a crisis of men so lonely they're willing to pay this isn't a problem either? Where's our luxury communism dreams bitches?

Bitches, I trust you. What am I missing?

I don’t think you’re a bigoted old fool. Nor a prude! I think you’re incredibly enlightened about the dangers of unfettered capitalism and labor exploitation.

Almost all of the issues you highlight about exploitative sex work can be said about exploitative labor in any industry. Poor people taking shitty jobs that don’t pay enough and enrich capitalist, patriarchal corporate overlords? That happens all over the world in industries from meat packing to clothing sweat shops to, yes, sex work. The exploitation of a person’s body for labor is an ethical stain on our culture at large. It’s why we’re so in favor of labor rights advances including a higher minimum wage, unions, and humane work environments. 

Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make Our Lives Better 

Are Unions Good or Bad? 

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights 

Sex work is not unique in that it opens desperate and poor people up to labor exploitation. It’s not even uniquely dangerous to the bodies of workers--John Oliver did a bit on the US meat packing industry recently that made me faint with body horror. 

So we agree that labor exploitation is bad. And it’s something that we should work towards ending in every industry. But I can see why some people would view exploitative sex work to be a different kind of bad. Because sex is sensitive! It can be used to punish and hurt. See revenge porn and the way synonyms for “sex worker” are stigmatized and used as insults throughout society. 

Now, a few clarifications. When I refer to sex work, I’m not just talking about cam work on OnlyFans. There are lots of other outlets for many different kinds of sex work. And I’m also not just talking about women sex workers. People of all gender identities and sexualities do sex work, and we should advocate for fair labor practices and safety for all of them. I am firmly pro- decriminalizing sex work so that the industry can be made safe, regulated, and destigmatized in an effort to reduce exploitation. I want sex workers to have the power of collective bargaining! I want them to be protected by law enforcement and our justice system, instead of targeted by it! I want them to pay taxes and have the privileges associated with all tax paying workers! I want them to have the power and protection of a regulatory industry that will purge abusive and violent clients from their field!

I also disagree with the characterization that choosing sex work freely, even out of desperation, is a “step up from kidnapping a girl from Romania to have them do porn.” Human trafficking is not sex work. It’s slavery and torture. Even when the choice is between making $7.25 an hour working at WalMart and making $7.25 as a cam girl, there’s still a choice involved, even if it’s a shitty one. There’s consent. Trafficking victims have no choice, no consent, only violence. 

I honestly don’t want to start a debate here. We’re all on the same page that labor exploitation is bad. So I’ll just end with this: not all sex work is inherently exploitative. Which I guess is your real question!

I’ve mentioned before that I have friends who are former sex workers. Specifically strippers and a specialty dominatrix. As with any job, they had their ups and downs, their good nights and bad nights. But they all agree that they freely chose the work not out of desperation or a lack of other options. And they even enjoyed the work in some cases. If someone prefers sex work, thrives in giving that emotional labor to others, I’m not going to judge and I’m certainly not going to tell them they’re being exploited. It would frankly be insulting, condescending, to tell someone that their choice of work (when it truly is a choice) is bad for them. 

It’s a fine line, but the line does exist. Sex work CAN BE exploitative. But it is not inherently exploitative, as far as I’m concerned. 

[tinyboxxtink]

"Black Magic" *Part 12*

Ayyyyy I fixed it!

For those who missed it, I wrote this chapter also on my phone because apparently I'm addicted to this story I can't focus on my real life even when I'm out.

Also sorry this is short but it was written in a Target parking lot on my phone. And also-- I just wanna put off "THE" part. 😂😬😘

Part 11

Part 13

Tag list

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

-----

Rafael shook his head, still reeling from your encounter. You had no idea what the hell you were talking about, he loved Olivia. He was sure of it. But the last thing you said nagged at him. Even if you had been some kind of crazy mind reading witch, that didn’t stop him from telling Liv about his father.

He had never told her, and if he was really honest with himself, he had no intention of telling her any time soon, maybe ever.

Why didn’t he want to tell her?

-----

Rafael decided to show you, he went straight to Liv's bridal room and knocked on the door.

"Yes?"

"Liv it's me."

"Rafa we can't see each other before the ceremony! It's bad luck!" She called through the door.

"Well it's more bad luck if we start this marriage with secrets." He replied.

Olivia's eyes widened: was he...was he going to tell her his middle name? All on his own? She KNEW you were full of shit

"O-okay just tell me through the door." Her eyes lit up with hope.

"No, I need to be looking at you or I might lose my nerve"

That was good enough for her! She swung the door open.

Rafael stared at her in awe, she had never looked so beautiful in all the years he knew her. He knew you were full of shit, he loved her completely.

"Liv I haven't been honest with you. My middle name isn't Antonio."

"It's not…?" Her eyes began to well up. It was happening. It was really happening.

"No, it's…." He paused and gazed at her. She was beautiful, she was perfect.... But there was no...safety.

"It's Ronaldo," he lied. "I just wanted you to have the right name on the marriage license"

"God damn it Rafael are you fucking kidding me? She yelled.

"What are you talking about?" Rafael was taken aback.

"Why can't you just tell me your real middle name? Why is that so hard for you?!" She yelled again..

"I'm sorry, you know that I'm lying? You know my real middle name?"

"What.. ? Yes...maybe, I don't know," she stammered.

"How do you know my middle name?" He asked.

" I, um...did...did you finish the flask I gave you?" She asked softly.

"....Excuse me?" Rafael asked suspiciously. He turned and walked back to his room. Olivia followed behind him quickly.

"You mean this flask that you supposedly gave me for our wedding day?" He asked, holding up a silver flask with his initials on it.

"You mean this nice loving gift, a token of your love on the most important day of our lives? You're asking me if I 'finished this'?"

"I.. well…" she stuttered.

"And what exactly is this Olivia?" He turned and headed to the bathroom of the groom suite.

"No Rafael, don't!!!" Olivia chase after him frantically.

Rafael opened the flask and poured its contests into the sink. To his horror and disbelief, a dark purple liquid poured out of it; as if it was purple and blue mixed together.

"Holy shit…" Rafael muttered.

"Oh my God!" he just stared in shock as the liquid dissipated down the drain. Olivia could only stand frozen in shock and couldn't speak.

"Oh my God, that girl was right wasn't she?" He stared at her.

"What girl? Was there a girl here?" Olivia quickly turned defensive. "Rafa you shouldn't listen to random ass people--"

"Oh no, fuck that Liv!" He screamed. Throwing the flask across the bathroom.

"What the hell was that?!" He gestured to the sink, now empty of the contents of the flask. "What the hell did you do to me?!

"Nothing!" She stuck to her denial. "It's just the color of the special liquor that I bought you. It's some kind of wine," She tried to think of a lie on the spot, but she wasn't great at it.

"Oh that is a load of shit!" Rafael scoffed while throwing up his hands. "I can't believe this...I can't believe some random ass girl knew more about me than you. She's right isn't she?"

"Rafa come on--" She started to speak, but Rafael wasn't hearing it.

"Oh no fuck that, fuck 'Rafa'. We're past Rafa, don't call me that!" Rafael screamed. "That girl was right, wasn't she? You made me forget her. I'm actually in love with her, aren't I?"

"No! You were never in love with her! That shit was fake. It was as fake as this!" She slapped her hand over her face after saying the last part inadvertently.

"Oh my God...This whole thing is fake. You manipulated my mind. You made me think that I was in love with you!" Rafael felt sick to his stomach.

"You are in love with me!" Olivia screamed. "You just needed to realize it," she added softly.

"And you wanted me to drink more so what? You could make me forget this ever happened so that I would marry you willingly? Like your little robot?" Rafael paced the room angrily.

"No I love you Rafael! That's why I did this! I did this for us!" She was crying now.

"That's BULLSHIT!" Rafael yelled.

"You didn't do this for me, you did this for you. You don't love me at all! If you really loved me, then you would want me to be happy no matter who that was with! I'm not your fucking Ken doll Liv! I'm not some guy you can just manipulate and tote around like some lap dog, doing whatever you say. That's not what love is!"

"Rafael come on, just look--- just, just drink this," she pulled out another vial from her bra. "Just drink it and you'll forget about this, and then we can be happy!"

"Are you not hearing me at all Olivia? Rafael asked her in actual disgust.

"You're still just trying to stick to your delusion? Don't come near me with that. In fact don't come near me at all. I can't. I can't even look at you right now," He started to storm out of the room but Olivia chased after him.

"Where are you going!?!"

"To get back what you stole from me!" Rafael yelled back, running out of the church.

----

You stood there in front of the penguins with Maria and Chloe just staring at them. It had gotten dark now. The tank was lit up, brightening the cave with its neon blue water. They looked so happy, just swimming and carefree, not a care in the world.

"Look at you guys," You sighed. "So happy, so innocent. You wouldn't lie to each other, you wouldn't manipulate each other, you just love each other unconditionally," You started to tear up.

"Oh honey…" Chloe came and put an arm around you.

"He's not coming, is he?" You looked at her with tears now dripping down your face.

She looked down at her watch; it had been about an hour since you had shown up there. That was about 20 minutes from the church. So it had been a while for Rafael to change his mind.

"I mean... I don't want to be Debbie Downer or anything but--" She have you a pity look.

"30 more minutes?" You pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

"Alright…." She looked at Maria who just shrugged sadly. Then she linked an arm in yours, laying her head on shoulder. "As long as you need."

------

Rafael was in an Uber, heading towards Central Park. He couldn't decide how he felt at the moment. He was enraged with Olivia for fucking with his emotions, his brain, his heart. How long has it gone on for?

Now that it had been a while since his last "dose", he was starting to realize he couldn't remember yesterday, or any of the past week, and it scared the shit out of him.

How could she do this? How could she just take memories from him like taking cookies out of a cookie jar? And with absolutely NO remorse? She was STILL trying to control him even when he was confronting her! Did she ever really love him? Were they ever really friends? It was like losing a lover and his best friend in one fell swoop.

And then there was you. Maybe you really had been Liv-- his lover and best friend. But she had taken that too, he had no memory of you whatsoever.

Even now he struggled to even remember your name. He was pretty sure you had said it in his dressing room, but all the shit he had in his system still left him all foggy. He did remember you knew his middle name, his Broadway dream.

You knew about Eduardo, how could he have told you about Eduardo? How important were you to him? How could he just forget that? He wanted that back, that safe feeling you were going on about. You were absolutely on the money about him never feeling safe once his Abuela had moved in with him and his mother. His mother's house never felt safe, even after Eduardo left.

His Mami was wonderful, but he never felt like he could ever fully be himself with her, because she wouldn't accept him. Which is why he never felt comfortable sharing himself completely, ever.

He wanted that safe feeling so badly….he wanted his feelings back so badly. Even if they were someone he supposedly didn't know.

"Uh….hey man are you ok? The Uber driver's question made him realize he was crying. The driver was awkwardly glancing back at him.

"Ahem...yeah no I'm fine. Can we uh...can we go any faster?"

"Hey man I can't control New York traffic," he gestured towards the stand still grid of cars.

He was still 5 blocks away. He wasn't entirely sure just how in love with him you were, though you were pretty damn hysterical at the church.

Would you wait all night? Have you already left?

"You know what, I think I can walk faster than this," Rafael told the driver as he got out on the curb and began running towards the park.

"....Don't forget to rate me five stars!!!" The driver called after him.

----

You glanced down at your phone, it had been 45 minutes since you had asked Chloe for 30. Maria was asleep on a bench, Chloe was falling asleep on your shoulder.

He wasn't coming. Olivia had won. You had to accept it.

You put your phone down and walked up to the glass of the penguin tank. They were all sleeping, except for one. They all were wearing these adorable harnesses that had their name on them, hers read "Penny".

Penny was sitting on a rock above the water, just staring at the "shore" of their enclosure.

You wondered if there was any explanation for that-- you googled "PENNY PENGUIN CENTRAL PARK ZOO". An article immediately came up. You scanned it, reading a particular sentence.

"....Penny's mate was killed in an accident at the zoo six months ago. Penguins are notoriously monogamous, so it's likely she won't ever take another mate. She just spends her night and days looking towards the place the Zookeeper's took Leonard from the enclosure."

Your heart broke, tears came to your eyes for the millionth time that day as you pressed a hand to the glass.

"I'm right there with you Penny, I know how you feel babe…" You sniffled as if the penguin could understand you. But she still continued to stare, waiting for her love to come back.

You wiped tears away and walked away from the tank over to Chloe and Maria, shaking her awake.

"Let's go," you sniffled.

"You sure honey?" She asked you as Maria stirred awake.

"Yeah…. it's over," you sniffled again, all out of water in your body.

She let you lean on her as you walked back up the stairs to the park.

You were so downtrodden, you didn't notice you had left your phone sitting in the enclosure.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: character death, gore, jazzercise, and small mentions of El having a panic attack [will include markers]

📝: the character death and gore is a flashback from last season cause apparently making us watch Bob die once wasn't enough 🥲 also sorry the code cracking scene was so bad, it was kinda hard to write

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

It hadn't taken long to get El ready for her next trip to the void. El found a spot on the ground, dry enough to sit, and began constructing a familiar device with goggles and duct tape they had miraculously found laying around. El had been kicking herself for leaving her headband at home, she should have known she'd need it. But this would do. And it reminded her of her conversation with Joyce that night; the first time someone had helped her through her fears of the void. Y/n and Max got to work behind her, turning on each of the showers to create the white noise El needed.

When they had finished, they took a seat on either side of their friend who now sat before the photo. Drawing in a deep breath, she placed the goggles over her face and began her search.

It was cold and lonely like it always was. Again, she tried to remind herself her friends were with her but it did little to lull the growing fears of what she might find next.

A mailbox was her only clue this time. It wasn't too far away, but the way it stood alone in the distance, waiting for her, unsettled her somehow. Maybe that was just the void, but that felt like a lie she kept trying to tell herself to get through it all.

It bore the numbers 1438, and it was sprinkled in rain. When she finally reached it, she carefully reached out her hand. She could almost feel the tin under her fingertips when suddenly a crimson smoke manifested out of thin air just feet away. It didn't take long for the smoke to build and the picture to form.

"What do you see?" Max asked, after some time.

"A door," El answered, her voice obstructed from the goggles over her nose. "A red door,"

It sat there, waiting for her to move. El knew she had to, and when she did that awful feeling in her gut grew stronger. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she reached for the handle, and it took all she had not to waver as it slowly swung open.

El's frown grew at the sight waiting for her on the other side. A ways away sat a bright white bathtub. She wasn't at all eager to find out what was inside, but when she did, she wished she could say she was surprised.

Ice. Just ice.

Just like with Billy, but the ice hadn't melted yet. The tub was almost overflowing with it and—

El jumped back when a girl shot up from within so suddenly. It was Heather. She was pink-faced and trembling, but something told El it wasn't from the cold. The droplets of water covering her face had easily disguised the tears slipping down her face, and the look in her glassy eyes was pleading up at her.

"Help me," she sobbed.

El didn't have time to react before Heather was pulled violently back under. El shrieked, immediately diving after her only to be met with the watery floor. She was panting for breath, trying so desperately to calm her racing heart but she realized she didn't have time to. Heather was still there, in need of her help and she was quickly disappearing under the water that separated them.

El cried out to her, desperate to reach her but something was stopping her. She could scream and claw at the surface of water separating them, but by the time she found a way to duck her head and arm in after her, it was too late. El watched helplessly in horror as Heather was pulled into the deep black abyss of her watery grave, crying out for help.

"NO!"

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

El threw the goggles off her head in an instant, her shoulders heaving as she gulped down breaths of air.

"What happened?" Max asks immediately, her hand flying to El's shoulder for comfort. "El!"

El didn't answer. With a haunted look in her eyes, she gaped between her friends. Worried, to say the least, Max and Y/n looked to one another afraid as she buries her head in her hands. El didn't say a word and instead collapsed into shaky sobs as she tried to come down.

Y/n recognized the panic attack, and in an instant she had thrown herself to the floor beside El, laying her hand on her back and began rubbing soothing circles.

"Hey, you're okay. You're okay. Take my hand," She whispers, carefully taking El's left hand in her own. She knew it was a good sign when El squeezed back, despite her heaving breaths. It was a sign she was responding. "We're here, it's okay. Just breath. Deep breaths, in and out,"

El's breathing barely slowed, but Y/n kept encouraging her. As they found themselves doing more and more, Max and Y/n lock eyes, their faces horror-stricken for their friend. El doesn't notice. She merely squeezed Y/n's hand tighter and allowed the sobs to come.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

HAWKINS NATIONAL LABORATORY

Once a place thriving with life and secret agency was now a desolate wasteland; a grave for rot and chaos that lay untouched for months.

The sign once erected on the outer gates now lay dented and scuffed among the mud and rain, forgotten like the rest of the laboratory.

RESTRICTED AREA

NO TRESPASSING

U.S. GOVERNMENT

PROPERTY

Hoppers truck comes to a screeching halt outside the lab's doors. Grabbing their bolt cutters and flashlights, Joyce and Hopper make their way to the abandoned laboratory that had caused them so much pain.

Joyce couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. She knew it was silly to be so worried about faulty magnets, but she didn't regret her actions. The last two times she had this unshakeable feeling in her core, she had been right to listen. The first being the moment she found Will's bed empty on the morning of November 7th, 1983. The second being Halloween night, the following year. And each time she felt it, untold horrors had followed.

And now? So far, those instincts hadn't failed her yet.

One visit to Scott Clarke about the town's sudden faulty magnets and her doubts were confirmed. And according to him, the only way an unstable electromagnetic field big enough to reach over all of Hawkins would have cost billions of dollars, and likely government-funded.

This had the lab written all over it. This had to do with the Upside Down and those monsters with it. It just had to. And she wasn't about to sit around and wait for it take her boy again. Or anybody else for that matter.

So here she was, nothing but a flashlight in hand and a fierce determination in her as she stormed the gates of Hawkins Lab, Hopper in toe.

The lab was just as they had left it that night. Glass was shattered among the floors from the busted windows, the chill seeping in from all sides; still as sharp as it was that night.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

The only answer the duo receives is the echo of Hopper's voice bouncing back to them as they step inside.

"We come in peace."

As she stood here now, Joyce realized everything was as she had last left it. That is... all but one thing.

One person.

Bob Newby. Superhero.

《•••》

He stood, the warmest of smiles gracing his face as he looked at the woman he loved. She was safe.

The next thing he felt was a harsh thud in his spine and skull as he was thrown to the floor.

All he knew was fear as he stared death in the face; its haunches in the air and its faceless head peeled away to reveal several rows of sharp thorny teeth as it pinned the man to the floors.

Joyce jumps back at the sight, her horrified screams blending with his own. The creature towers over Bob, and despite the man's best efforts he cannot quite match the beast's strength. It raises a single lean arm into the air, and in one swift motion its talons glide down to meet his left kidney. As its claws sink further into his sides, a cloud of deep crimson stains his scrubs, and a guttural cry of pain tears from deep within his chest.

"No!"

Joyce's cries of anguish alert the chief, who comes in all too late. He draws his rifle, now more in tune with the weapon without a still unconscious Will over his shoulder. But even then, it is far too late when the bullets hit the thing attacking Bob. Life has already begun to drain from the man, and in a matter of seconds, his chest had been torn to shreds.

"No!" She cries, fighting against Hopper's grip, unable to tear her teary eyes away from Bob.

"Go!"

As she is pulled around the corner, her one free arm stretches out after the man who had risked so much.

"Bob!"

The last thing she sees before the scene disappears from her view altogether is Bob's trembling and bloody hand reaching out for her in his remaining moments.

"No!"

《•••》

"Joyce,"

Her eyes are far away and haunted when she finally looks at Hopper. It looked to him as if she was pulling herself out of a memory, and he didn't have to wonder which. Hopper had a hunch this would happen, but he was in no place to blame her.

"You okay?" He asks.

But she was already burying it. Again, something he anticipated.

"I'm fine," she says quickly.

"You wanna wait in the car?"

Joyce all but scoffed and marched ahead.

"I said I'm fine."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Hours. They had been at this. For hours. At least... Well, that's what it felt like to Steve and Dustin as they continued their search.

Really it had only been a little over one.

Spycraft could be pretty boring, they quickly realized.

Their mission was beginning to feel a bit silly as the longer time wore on. After all, what were the odds they'd find an actual evil Russian waltzing around in broad daylight?

"Target acquired," Dustin gasped.

Okay, so maybe the odds were pretty decent.

"Where?"

"Ten o'clock. Sam Goody's,"

"Give me that," Steve says, taking hold of the binoculars.

Sure enough, just as Dustin had said, a towering man in shades, long blonde hair, was carrying a duffle bag as he strode through the crowd.

"Shit. Duffle bag,"

Lowering the binoculars, the duo look to one another with grave faces as it dawns on them.

-"Evil Russian"

He wasn't at all hard to spot in their sudden chase. His all-black jumpsuit stood out among the sea of neon around him as he ascended the escalator.

Despite his casted looks at his surroundings, the man didn't seem to notice the two boys close on his tail.

"Slow down," Dustin warned, as they squeezed through a group of girls.

"We're losin' him,"

"You're getting too close,"

Steve's shoulder suddenly collided with a guy not much older than him, who turned to scowl at him.

"Watch it, dickwad!"

The target slowed, peering curiously over his shoulder. Steve and Dustin fall back against the wall; Steve behind a plant that didn't exactly hide him or his bright blue uniform and Dustin ran for the payphone. He picked it up, immediately speaking into it in a monotone voice he would cringe at later.

"Hello. Yes. I am fine. How are you?"

But he didn't seem to notice, the target had already moved on. He seemed to be in a hurry.

When they were certain he had no reason to spot them, they fell back into a scurry on his tail which carried them all the way to...

Jazzercise?

Peering around the corner, Steve and Dustin watched bewildered as the man hurried to the front of the class.

"All right, everyone, listen up!" He yells.

Their minds raced as he threw the duffle bag onto the counter with an impressive thud before pulling back the zipper.

"I just have one question for you."

What evil did this man have in mind for this poor, unsuspecting group of women?

"Who..."

He rips his glasses off, and reaches into the duffle bag-

"is ready to sweat?"

-and pulls out a boombox.

Simultaneously, their faces fall into small 'o's as they gape at the unexpected turn of events.

The ladies clad in neon tights and leg warmers bounce happily on their mats, and a chorus of agreements ring out throughout the class.

"That's right!" Cheers the non-Russian. With a blindingly white smile, he presses play on the boombox and Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go begins to burst from the speakers. Stepping onto a mat of his own, he unzips his black jumpsuit — which they now realized was a tracksuit — to reveal an equally neon, dangerously thin, muscle tee. "Okay! Let's start nice and easy now."

A grimace falls over Steve and Dustin as they watch the sight unfold.

"Let's move our thighs. Yeah!"

The women cheer as he begins to grind the air.

"Yeah, ladies, warm it up."

They begin to copy his motions.

"Bring it down to your hips. Start feeling that burn, everywhere, down in the loins, right?"

Steve just blinks.

"Slow now. Just isolate."

The man begins thrusting his hips, and Dustin watches horrified.

Okay, so maybe this mission wouldn't be so easy.

But if they were going to find anything, he was sure it would be easier to handle than this.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"The week is long," Robin mutters. "The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly."

She takes a thoughtful sip of her soda, eyes raking over her notepad with the now fully translated message. Turns out, translation went a lot faster without those idiots trying to help. But something was still nagging at her.

"Tread lightly," she mumbles, discarding her drink and beginning to thumb through the translation book.

Had she gotten it wrong? She didn't think she had, but why else would it be bothering her?

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sudden sound of knocking on the back door. In a haste, she unhooks the headphones from her neck and squeezes through the partition window before yanking open the back door.

"Delivery for you,"

"Thank you," she says, grabbing for the package.

It was heavy, but that was to be expected. It must be the new shipment in from Michigan, she thought. With a huff, she drops it onto the break table before turning back to the waiting delivery man.

She scratched her signature in before handing the pen and clipboard back, and that's when her eyes linger on his uniform.

LYNX TRANSPORTATION

That nagging feeling was back, but more than anything it felt like an itch had finally been scratched.

It couldn't be, could it?

"Have a nice day,"

"Yeah, you too," she mumbles.

She could hear the wheels of his hand truck carrying down the hall and that's when Robin peered out after him.

A hint of a smirk grew on her face when she laid eyes on the insignia painted over the back of his uniform.

"Silver cat." She gasps. "Silver. Cat."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Hey, Robin, you're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian," Steve grumbled as they strode back into Scoops Ahoy.

Dustin shoved his arm.

"You did too."

"No, I did not!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I did not."

But Robin wasn't listening. She had shoved herself right past them without so much as a glance in their direction.

Out of breath in exhilaration, Robin finds herself on the ledge of the topiary in the very heart of Starcourt. Her eyes scoured the shops and she can feel everything falling into place.

"A trip to China sounds nice," she mutters. "A trip to China... sounds... nice..."

If Lynx Transportation was the Silver Cat, something in this mall — a store in this mall — then that meant...

Imperial Panda.

Her grin returns.

"A trip to China sounds nice."

She checks her notes again.

'If you tread lightly'

It had to be something with shoes...

How about Kauffman shoes?

"If you tread lightly,"

Now blue and yellow... what could that be — where had she seen that?

"When blue meets yellow..."

Her eyes fly across the walls, and for a moment she wonders if it's somewhere deeper in the mall out of sight. But that didn't make sense. What did make sense were the two clock hands at the center of the mall she had glanced at almost every hour of every shift.

"in the west."

"Robin?"

Steve and Dustin reach her side, peering up at her with a questioning look.

"What are you doing?"

"I cracked it," is all she can say.

"Cracked what?"

No longer able to contain her excitement, she jumped down from the ledge and her lips split into a small, shaky smile.

"I cracked the code."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Stepping through the airlock doors that separated the world from the gate to the Upside Down was not as daunting as it once had been.

For one, the airlock obviously was no longer functioning, nor was anything else in the building and above all, it all felt... empty. It looked more like an abandoned hospital than a notoriously evil government lab dedicated to the study of alternate dimensions and psychic child weapons.

And what once had been a gaping hole that lowered into a stories-high rift to another dimension was now just a slab of fresh concrete. The gate, and any way of reaching it, had long since been sealed.

Hopper gives a definitive, hollow knock on the plaster when they reach the wall, and turns to Joyce, "Nobody's home," and paces away.

"All the cavities have been filled. I watched 'em do it, Joyce."

At the very least, it was hard to swallow. For so long the truth had always led back here. Everything led back here.

The mind flayer, the demodogs. Will himself.

How could this not be the lab? Or at the very least, the Upside Down?

"It's over," Hopper concludes, seemingly reading her thoughts. Sharing a collective sigh with Joyce, Hopper looks around at the remains as she takes a seat on a nearby lift. "It's over,"

"I feel like I'm looking my mind," she says.

"You're not losing your mind," Hopper assures, nervously beginning to pace. "Not any more than I am."

He nibbles on the inside of his cheek as he nervously kicks a loose piece of rubble.

"You know, the other day, I almost shot Betsy Payne's dog because it came rushing at me from behind this fence, and I... I swear to God I thought it was one of those things."

The look in Joyce's eyes was all too familiar. It was a look he knew he had been wearing as long as she had

"You know that I'm keeping a close eye on things, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Because it is important to me." Hopper all but chokes. "It is important to me that you feel safe. That you and your family feel safe. I want you to feel like this can still be your home."

Joyce winces.

"What?" He asks somberly, already knowing the answer. "You didn't think I'd find out about that? Gary called me. He's said he's fixing up your house to put on the market."

Joyce makes no effort to deny his claims and Hopper realizes he never really expected her to. He didn't know what he was expecting. But the Byers leaving Hawkins was something he considered unthinkable.

And knowing that family, he wasn't the only one who'd miss them.

"The kids know yet?"

Joyce doesn't say a word, but it's all the answer he needed. The look on her face says it all; she didn't want to. She was afraid to. But she was also afraid to be in Hawkins. Afraid for her boys being in Hawkins.

And Hopper knew that feeling all too well.

"After Sarah..." he sighs, taking a seat on the ground beside her. "I had to get away... I had to get the hell out of that place, you know? Outrun those, uh... those memories, I guess."

Hopper tries to summon the words but they were having a hard time through the lump in his throat. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't think about his little girl. About what life would have been like had she still been around, how she and El would get along... All of it. But that wasn't the truth, and he knew it.

"I mean, why do you think I ended up back in this shithole?"

Eyes brimming with tears, Hopper peers up at the woman who had wormed her way into his heart all those years ago. She let out a pathetic chuckle, as he did and all he can do is smile weakly up at her.

"But you have something that I never had. You have people that know what you've been through. You have people that care about you. Right here. In Hawkins."

"You mean," she begins, her voice soft and cracked. "You mean, people like Scott Clarke?"

There's a painful silence that Joyce finally puts out of its misery.

"That was a joke," she smiled.

Hopper releases a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed in relief and her smile widens just a little further.

"Mm," he groans softly, giving a small laugh.

Lost in the moment and each other's company, they had nearly forgotten where they were had it not been for the sudden clang echoing down the nearby halls.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Okra Project:

AAIP Mental Health Association

Black Trans Lives Matter Carrd

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"The Okra Project is a collective that seeks to address the global crisis faced by Black Trans people by bringing home cooked, healthy, and culturally specific meals and resources to Black Trans People wherever we can reach them."

Taglist:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @peeperparkour @ba-responds ​ @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 ​ @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl ​ @nightbu-g @lozzybowe @gizmofishersupremacy @spiderbitch69420

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

[x-avaarts-x]

Jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

Oc x Canon

Ryoman sukuna, satoru gojo, itadori yuji, jjk ocs(Kintoki Akaruhime, Sorano gojo)

Word count : 1163

Warning:

English is not my mother language

All arts is by myself

It's not a complete story because manga isn't ended.

Pls reblog if you like and pls leave comments

Part: 1

"who are you???"

She woke up with the sound of her own scream. Her frightened look was fixed on the ceiling, trying to take a deep breath. Her blue eyes were filled with tears. Again, she had had a nightmare. A troubled nightmare It was not clear why had taken away her peace !! The sun was shining directly on his bed. From the moment she closed her eyes until the morning, she saw repetitive scenes that happened like a series. Her body was shocked and her muscles were numb. She tried to move her hand, but it was very difficult. She felt like someone was under the rubble. finally sat down in her bed while she put her hand on her throat. Her hair was covered her face. She still could not breathe slowly. Her heart was pounding as she were constantly running around a football field. turned her head to find some water:

" My lady, are you alright??"

The servant's voice made her turns her head in horror. Akaruhime's reaction shocked the servant. She stood for a moment and then came to her anxiously. she filled a glass with water and sat down next to her young lady:

"Did you have a nightmare again?"

The maid's voice confirmed once again that those scenes were just a nightmare. A deep breath came out of Akaru's mouth and she paused for a moment. She took the glass gently and drank then looked at the maid seriously:

I'm fine. I will eat milk and cornflakes for breakfast. "

End of Akaruhime' sentence means allowed to leave. The servant got up respectfully and hurried out of the lady's room. Akaru's serious look became a matter of concern, turned to her pillow and searched her phone. She put her hand around her phone and pulled it out. The only person who could help her, as always, was her sensie. Gojo's sibling numbers were the only numbers stored on her phone. After a short pause, she dialed her sensie' number and waited. After a few seconds, Sorano's cold, impatient voice finally rang in her ears:

"I wont to hear that you have been asleep so far! Oh, I can't believe I should see the promotion of the students of those two idiots and my student should walk on the cloths !!"

Akaru's silence lasted a little longer, even though she had heard Sorano's humor, she did not even smile! Akaru' pause caused a slight worry in Sorano's heart:

"Hey kid! Is the situation good ?? Did you have another nightmare ??"

Akaru's muffled voice finally rang in the ears of her only friend:

"Every night is worse than the night before .. I can not understand the meaning of this dream but I can not ignore it. I have been involved in this affair for a month now ... I miss a good night's sleep .."

Sorano glanced gently at Yuji, Saturo's newest student, who was also on the sidelines. She took a breath gently and turned his attention back to her inexperienced master:

"Have you any idea??"

Sorano's voice finally made Akaru to open her mouth to define her dreams:

"I only see death ... someone like me is the target of many arrows ... while defending the four-handed god ... I do not know why .. I feel I am going to die !!!"

A faint grin settled on Sorano's lips, but she answered with seriousness and awkwardness:

"Stupid !! You will not die until you see me at the funeral! So you must waite for it, cuz I will not die! "

Finally, the sound of Akaru's single laugh was heard! But again her face frowned and  stared at the ground:

"I don't know what is right anymore !!"

" Go back to high school. You missed the event but at least I must see what I can do about it."

"I should Leave the business situation hoping for a handful of stupid managers?"

" Now everything is done online. Don't worry come back anyway, you know our master has done this before !! He must see that his servant is worth serving him!"

And again a short smile settled on Akaru's lips. She closed her eyes for a moment and then nodded:

"Very well ... I will try to reach you myself."

"Bravo good girl. Now go eat your breakfast and tell that stupid manager to arrange a ticket for you. I will come for you myself.

" Well then .. see you!"

Finally, the call was cut off from akaruhime. Sorano stared at her mobile screen for a long time. She did not know what was right and what was wrong .. She did not notice Satoru at all due to distraction. The fact that Sorano stared at her phone and showed no reaction was questionable for his younger brother. When he reached her, he bent down to her phone and stared at it. Nothing was displayed except the home screen of the phone, which was one of Sorano's own paintings. He tilted his head back a little and then turned to Sorano and stared at her face:

"Why did you stare at your phone with anger, my beauty?"

Satoru's voice finally made Sorano takes her look of phone and stare at her little idiot. She put her hand on her waist seriously and replied gently:

"Akaru is getting upset. I still don't know how much she can feel Sukuna .. She has definitely felt that she is coming back, Otherwise, she would not have agreed to return. If her identity as Sukuna's servant is revealed, we will be in big trouble. She still can't control her abilities well. "

Satoru looked serious and somewhat surprised. He put his finger on his lips to think and after a moment's pause, he replied in the same way:

"Unlike you, I'm not worried about that. I'm worried that Sukuna will hit her .. you see that he's very good to throw it."

"Unlike you, I'm not worried about that. Akaru is more stubborn than that. But I do not have the patience for trouble. Sukuna is back, her servant's identity finally becomes obscene and again .. the past events will repeated!"

A grin spread across Satoru's lips and straightened his back. He clapped his palms tightly. He held his hands in front of his sister's face and laughed:

"Don't worry, the absolute power of the Gojo family will supports you!"

Satoru's lively tone made Sorano even more anxious. This idiot and his crazy games caused Sorano trouble like their childhood, and he certainly did not have the patience to sabotage it. Satoru walked away from her, whistling happily, his hands behind his head. Taking care of two stubborn idiots was a big problem for Sorano. Now she had to go and prepare herself for the return of her beautiful student. A student who was her highness and extremely inexperienced in everything!

[ideahat-universe]

Baldi's better than Security Breach (in stealth mechanics)

I thought of this while thinking about how I felt about Security Breach personally. I think for a game like that if it was just a VR sandbox and you got on rides and played games Coin Game style you would enjoy the game more than it trying to be a scary stealth em up. I mean I get it. It's a horror franchise but we have yet to have one game that actually pretends to be a convincing theme restaurant.

I think in a post UCN Fnaf world we should be able to tell stories from angles that don't impact the concluded story line but add to the lore of the world.

We can have a game that's just what FNAF is like when things are good. We could even be present for the days where everything went wrong. Maybe we are the kid, maybe we're a parent, we could even be an animatronic.

We have options is what I'm saying.

But that's an aside. My main point is this. What we got had a lot of problems but the main problem is that fundamentally the main mechanic of the game wasn't designed well enough.

And that Baldi's Basics has it beat.

Which is weird to say. For all the fun we had with Baldi's Basics it was a flavor of the month in terms of Indie break out titles (which is fine with me. What I wouldn't give to be a popular niche flavor of ice cream for a few week) so I wouldn't think that something as heavily worked on as Security Breach would not have something that a one man shitpost project has in spades.

Let me explain.

Baldi is not magical

The idea is that you're being chased by Vanny and the bots and the security bots are also on the lookout for you but the security bots are just an alarm to summon the robots to your location but the word summon doesn't mean that they hear the alarm and rush there, the robots literally appear in your general area when they were not there before.

You don't hear them coming, they're just there. Baldi is better because Baldi does not teleport to your location. He's designed to chase you based on hearing and line of sight and goes in that direction and updates based on future noises (or wanders if he can't hear or see you).

The animatronics have line of sight as well and they do react to sound but we both know that you would never be caught if that's all they had to catch you. No, teleportation through the security bot alert is almost all of the scenarios where a player is typically caught and because they were teleported there's no real chase element.

Baldi is better because you know how far away Baldi is, you know what triggers his hearing, you know how fast he's moving, and you know where you can and can't hide (there's nowhere to hide if memory serves which actually makes it more scary despite it being in broad light and you being chased by a rectangle with legs).

Baldi is running solo

The idea of being chased by five (or six) different characters at once is nice but with all the security bots swarming the map along with them you don't get to appreciate the chase.

In Baldi's Basics you are only being chased by Baldi. Everyone else lives in their own little world and they interact with you however they like which can help Baldi inadvertently but there are obstacles on the map that Baldi can't maneuver around that works to your advantage as well.

By making it to Baldi is the only person chasing you in an basically uncaring environment you and Baldi can get tripped up by other characters doing their dailies which adds to the excitement. Think about good chase scenes in movies where someone has to wade through a crowd or take a hairpin turn on street to avoid traffic.

Or how about when a character trips or falls or gets their clothing or their body stuck in something?

I mean those are elements in a good slasher film and FNAF is a horror isn't it?

Well chases need obstacles to be exciting and you need to be concerned with being followed by a definitive target that can go basically anywhere and has absolute access.

Baldi is fair

Baldi does one thing in the whole game and all his advantages are telegraphed.

You think this would empower the player but it doesn't because the player has a limited amount of tools to use on Baldi and is constantly threatened by RNG that occasionally works in his favor.

With practice the game becomes fair.

In Security Breach the second you get you start getting tools to slow animatronics down and you start damaging them in various ways you eventually get to the point where you're not hiding from the robots, you're hiding from the absurdly loud and abrupt "caught" noise.

You all but completely bleed the stealth element out of the game making it trivial.

The fact that Gregory is a terror and a humanoid typhoon plays into the power fantasy of any kid who feels like they could take on killer robots if they had the chance and it's cute.

But it's also bad game design.

For this though, In an RPG but that would be half the point but in a horror or a stealth game the point is to never have that kind of power.

You have to be disadvantaged the whole time. Gregory is never really without good options and they get better the further on you go.

SO. How would I fix Security Breach?

Now hear me out. What if. The antagonist was Vanny? Like say she was a security guard and had access to every room by default and could look at the cameras to reassess where you are and if any alert goes off she could go straight to your location from on the other side of the map if need be.

She could even taunt and talk to you over the intercom.

She can fit through the vents and chase you through the vent (which Poppy's Playtime has already proven to a very effective chase scenario).

And the Mini Music men you can axe them, and the security bots are either off, in the way, or doing their daily routine which gets in the way of the chase.

The animatronics can be in their rooms or in their areas looking for you but treating you like a customer child than something they need to attack and hurt. Vanny goes by them without issue unless she's wearing her outfit.

If she's wearing her outfit she's in stealth mode and moves really fast but the animatronics will react negatively to it and grab her.

She won't get hurt as she can easily reassert herself as the security guard but it buys you enough time to get out of the area.

Yes, this means we get way less Himbo Freddy and none of the robots get smashed but we do get more Sundrop so that should be a fair trade. We don't get giant Music Man crawling all over the walls either. Oh and Bon gets to be in the game BECAUSE

WE AREN'T BRINGING AFTON BACK

So the subplot about Bon being recycled into Afton parts doesn't happen.

That's how I would have done it. Maybe it would have been extremely hard to make a true chaser as Baldi's basics had a simple environment and Friday the 13th had that one environment that was mostly open and really easy to move around in.

They could have made Coin Game Fnaf edition or they could have made a good Stealth em up. They didn't do either so hopefully with the next game (because Security Breach sold really well!) they'll come up with something.

Or we can all become Walten Files fans instead, Idfk (we might as well, none of us are actually playing these games if the surveys are to be believed, we might as well cut out the middle man and just watch analog horror).

[a-method-in-it]

Trans(masculine) former Potterhead here! I still own the books, were a gift, a hardcover set from my mom from years ago. I even made a parody of Im a Lumberjack and I'm OK from Monty Python as I'm a Hufflepuff and I'm OK and helped found a Dumbledore's Army club at my High School I loved HP so much, I was obsessed, but now I have so many mixed emotions about the franchise I don't really know what to do.

I cannot speak for trans women, but as a queer trans person, if I see someone reading the books or watching the movies or wearing merch its like. Ok. I know I might get along with this person, they like the same stuff I (used to) like....BUT do they know how the werewolf thing is about AIDS, implying gay people are out of control monsters, and how the only villain with werewolfism specifically targets minors, implying pedophilia is a trait inherent in gay people? Do they know that when a trans woman reads the books they worry they wont be "woman enough" to keep the stairs in the girls dorm from turning into a slide, because they know that the author specifically thinks they don't deserve to sleep in the girl's dorm because of their gentials? Do they understand that JK Rowling's opinions are there, insidiously rooting into young minds? Are they reading this critically? Or do they support what JK is saying? Do they know all of these things and not care about it, dismiss it out of hand?

Does this person want me dead?

It boils down to a Feeling of Unease. Is this person safe for me to be around? There is a Very Real Danger that the person in the Ravenclaw Shirt and Golden Snitch Earrings is going to call the police on a trans woman going to the bathroom, or beat her, or even kill her, because the author of their favorite series has convinced them trans women are men in dresses and that men in women's bathrooms are dangerous. That person could also be a nice genuine nerd, queer themselves, even potentially a friend, but now I am Suspicious of that person. I am suspicious of anyone who openly enjoys it (unless they are children, kids don't know better, or if they have a tattoo, idk how old that tat is). They want to read it at home and want a discussion on new themes and how to make it better/less gross? Fine by me.

But if someone is publicaly supportting her, staying extremely active in the fandom defending the books or movies or JK herself, having and wearing merch which could direct new people (probably kids! Who will get Obsessed! And don't know better!) into buying things from her and giving her money? After all that she's done? After she literally helped create legislation against being trans?? Not cool.

The series is just simply tainted for a lot of trans folk like me. I still hold it dear foe what it did for me as a child, and I know if I read the series again I would still love it, but I would also HATE myself for enjoying it, knowing that the person who wrote this, the bit of her soul which she has given me, wants me dead. Wants my friends dead.

So I'm not really saying if you support HP publicaly people will see you as a TERF but I am also absolutely saying that people will see you as a TERF if you publicaly support the HP franchise. Death of the author is well and good when the author is dead and/or their estate doesn't get any money for new books or merch purchased, but she is alive and actively trying to kill trans folks, so literally anything that could be seen as support of her, or get others to support her even accidentally, can make trans folk uncomfortable and feel unsafe.

Hope this helped? I know I'm not the original asker, this is just my two cents.

Hi there! Thank you for posting this lengthy and very thoughtful response (and I hope you don’t mind my answering publicly -- if so, let me know and I’ll delete). There is one (admittedly very long) thing I’d like to say in response, but if you’re not looking for that, just know that I really value hearing your perspective and you can feel free to skip all of this and carry on your way. 

---

You say that you would probably enjoy the books if you reread them, but would hate yourself for doing so -- and I just want to say that what you like does not make you a bad person or act as any valid basis for deserving hate, from yourself or anyone else. 

Like, for instance, I’m a person who cannot stand horror movies and I am genuinely confused that anyone would enjoy watching terrible things happen to people for 90+ minutes. But I would never say that people who like horror movies are bad people just because they do enjoy that. The same goes for violent video games -- I don’t like them, but I don’t think the people who do are bad.

Because what media you personally enjoy has really no bearing on whether you are a good person. Being a good person is about how you treat others, whether you are kind, whether you are patient, whether you are understanding, whether you help people when you can and show up for the people in your life when they need you. It has nothing to do with whether you like a particular book or movie or videogame. 

So if you do want to reread those books because you think they would bring you joy, I hope that you do. 

Long before she became a TERF -- (and for the record, I don’t think that she was actively and consciously transphobic at the time when she was writing the books, for the simple reason that most of the people who are TERFs today weren’t at that point) -- I had already gotten used to tuning out Rowling and her fondness for Word of God pronouncements. 

Like, Dumbledore being gay actually fit into the canon very well, but others? They just felt tired and not thought-out and her whole short history of American magic was incredibly lazy. The werewolfism=AIDS thing was offensive in very real ways--and also it should be noted just does not make sense as a metaphor. Not just because AIDS will kill you and being a werewolf will not and there’s no way to bridge that fundamental disconnect -- but also because the way people talk about being a werewolf in the damn books doesn’t resemble at all the way people talk about AIDS patients in real life. Which makes me think she didn’t actually mean for it to be a metaphor when she wrote it and then years later threw it out there because it sounded good to her in the moment because she hadn’t thought it through.

By the time we got to wizards shitting on the floor because she very clearly forgot that she had already had chamber pots referenced in the text, I was long-since tapped out. 

Which is all just to say that it is beyond fair for you to use being a fan of Harry Potter as a data point in gauging your safety as a trans person -- but if we’re talking just about you enjoying the books?

Well, in that case, fuck Rowling and her weird post-canon comments that half the time don’t even make sense. If she wanted trans girls to not be allowed up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, she should have put it in the damn text. As far as I’m concerned, trans girls and trans boys are allowed up whichever staircase matches their sense of themselves (and, I like to think, nonbinary kids get the run of the whole tower). 

In fact, as far as I’m concerned, she lost the right to have me care what she says about the Harry Potter universe when all of her comments started being unbearably lazy, asinine, and/or nonsensical. If she’d been half this uninspired and careless when writing the actual books, I would have stopped reading them. 

This has been a very long reply on that single point, but I want to end by saying that the point is, even if I accepted the premise that liking the Harry Potter books is in and of itself wrong -- and I hope I’ve made something of a case that it’s not -- it still shouldn’t be something you hate yourself over. Short of actually murdering people, I’m not sure there’s anything that’s grounds to outright hate yourself, honestly, but liking a book is definitely not on the list. 

Either way, you seem like a lovely person, one who is very thoughtful and has been very patient and generous with your time in writing all of that out. I hope that you find ways to also be a little more patient and generous with yourself -- about Harry Potter or any other topic -- because you deserve that and you do not deserve to be hated by anyone, least of all yourself. And I also hope you have a good rest of your night. 

[lewishamil10n]

Please more de-aged Sam, I'm in love😻🙈

@mangomochaa asked too, so here it is!!

notes: set in season 5.

[part one]

–

“What do you mean you don’t know when he’ll be back!” Dean snaps into the phone. “It’s been a week!”

Cas sighs over the phone. “These things are not always predictable, Dean. It could take anywhere from a few days to a few months.”

“A few months?” Dean repeats incredulously. “Cas, the world is ending! How are we supposed to save it if Sam’s a child?”

“When I examined him the day before I told you he had only a few traces of magic left in his system,” Cas tells Dean patiently. “He will be back in some time, Dean. I cannot predict exactly when.”

“And you’re sure you can’t do anything?” Dean asks, not caring how desperate he sounds, or that it’s the sixth time he’s asking.

“No, Dean,” Cas says. “I cannot. The magic must wear off on its own. I do not want to accidentally cause even more damage.”

“Fine,” sighs Dean. “Fine. If he’s not back within another week, though,” he adds, “I’m kicking your ass.” And then he hangs up before Cas can say anything else.

Pocketing his phone again, Dean steps back inside the motel room. Sam is lying in his bed, curled under the covers, his little chest rising and falling as he sleeps. His head is poking out from the blankets, messy brown curls everywhere, and he’s got his face pressed into his pillow.

Dean sighs again, kicking his shoes off and getting into his own bed. He sits with his back against the headboard, eyes on Sam. His little brother is unusually pale; he’d been complaining of a “tummyache” before Dean had put him to bed, and Dean’s afraid he might be coming down with something. His little nose is red, and he’s sniffling a little in his sleep, and Dean’s worried it might be the flu. Some of that’s been going around, and while adult Sam may be immune, little Sam definitely isn’t.

Dean’s fears are proven right when Sam wakes up a couple hours later, cranky and miserable. He reaches out for Dean as soon as he’s awake, clinging to him tightly when Dean gets into bed with him. “’M sick,” he mumbles, climbing into Dean’s lap.

Dean puts the back of his hand to Sam’s forehead first, and then his neck. “Yeah, you’ve got a temperature,” he mutters, heart sinking. “Does your tummy still hurt?”

Sam shakes his head. “No, but m’head does.” He sniffles. “An’ my nose feels funny.”

Dammit, curses Dean silently. Definitely the fucking flu. They’ve got some meds in the first aid kit, but all of them are too strong for someone of Sam’s size and age – and in any case, Sam can’t have them on an empty stomach, and there’s nothing to eat except for some crackers and a bag of gummy bears.

(Dean vaguely remembers adult Sam telling him they should stock up on food that was actually healthy, and he remembers just scoffing at him before loading their shopping cart with junk. Should’ve listened to him, but no point crying over spilled milk.)

There’s nothing else for it – he’s going to have to take Sam out.

He doesn’t want to; Sam’s absolutely miserable, sniffling into Dean’s shirt and probably spreading snot all over it. There’s also the very real risk of them being tailed by some angel or demon, and the last thing Dean needs is for word to spread that Sam Winchester, for the time being, is a child. He’s not an easy target, not when he’s got Dean with him, but Dean doesn’t want to give any opportunity to angels, demons, or any hunters still gunning for Sam.

But he can’t leave Sam alone in the motel either, especially when he’s sick.

Sending up a wordless prayer to no one in particular, Dean gathers Sam in his arms and gets off the bed, lifting Sam with him. At five, Sam should be too old to be carried, but he’s ill, and so damn tiny it makes Dean’s heart hurt, and fuck, he just wants his little brother close.

“Where are we going?” Sam asks, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck.

“Gotta get you some food and medicine, kiddo,” Dean tells him. He gives Sam a once-over, making sure he’s dressed fine, and then picks up his car keys from the motel side table. He’s still in his jacket from when he’d gone outside to talk to Cas, and Sam is wearing a hoodie over two shirts, so they should be fine.

Thankfully the town is really small, and Dean doesn’t have to drive for too long to reach the pharmacy. Sam’s growing lethargic now, head heavy on Dean’s shoulder, one pudgy little hand tangled in Dean’s shirt under his jacket. His skin is too hot against Dean’s, and he tries to ignore the curl of stress in his belly as he loads up a basket with children’s flu medicine and lozenges.

The cashier coos at Sam as she rings them up, and Sam, shy on his best day, is absolutely not having it. He buries his face into Dean’s neck, arms tightening around him, and Dean forces a chuckle as he fishes his wallet one-handed out of his pocket. “He’s shy,” he murmurs to the cashier. “And not doin’ too good right now.”

“I hope he feels better soon,” she says with a sympathetic smile as she accepts the hundred Dean hands her. She tries to get Sam’s attention again when she hands Dean his change back, but Sam’s not having it -- he tightens his limbs around Dean, until it feels like Dean’s holding on to a particularly nervous octopus.

“The lady just wanted to say hi, you know,” he tells Sam once they’re back at the car.

“I know,” Sam mumbles, curling up in the back seat.

Dean fastens the seatbelt over him before getting in the driver’s seat. “You still feelin’ sick?”

“Uh huh,” Sam says from the back. “Where we goin’ now?”

“Gettin’ you some food,” Dean tells him.

“‘Kay.” Then, a second later, “Dee?”

“Yeah?”

“How come Daddy lets you drive his car?” 

Dean pauses. “Well, uh,” he says. “He said I might need it, so he let me have it. Made me promise to take real good care of it.”

“Then what’s Daddy drivin’?”

“Ah, you know, I’m sure he found a car,” Dean hedges, pulling up in front of the supermarket. “All right, kiddo, what d’you feel like having?”

Sam shrugs. “Dunno. When’s Daddy gonna be back?”

“Couple days,” Dean says as he gets out, hoping hope against hope Sam’s an adult by then. He really does not want to have to explain the circumstances of John’s death to his toddler brother. “What do you think ‘bout soup?”

Sam shrugs again, letting Dean unfasten his seatbelt. He reaches out for Dean as soon as he’s free, and, getting the hint, Dean picks him up, letting Sam wrap his limbs around him again. Sam’s nose is cold when he presses it against Dean’s neck, and Dean resolves to get him back to their room as soon as possible.

It takes him no more than ten minutes to gather the ingredients he’s looking for, and another two to check them out. The cashier here, a tired-looking college-aged student, makes no effort to talk to him or Sam any more than necessary, something both of them are grateful for. Ten more minutes, and they’re back at the motel.

Dean settles Sam back in bed with a lozenge as he throws together the ingredients for tomato rice soup. There had been instant options at the supermarket, and Dean had been tempted, but had thought better of it in the end. He’d had the luxury of someone making an effort to make him feel better when he’d been sick as a child, and it wouldn’t be fair to deprive Sam of that. Besides, instant had nothing on Mary’s recipe. 

Sam manages to get through half a bowl before declaring he’s full, at which point Dean pours some medicine down him and settles him back against the pillows, sheets pulled up to his chest. He undresses, stripping down to his shirt and boxers, and is just about to get into his own bed when Sam asks, voice impossibly small, “Dee?”

Dean turns to smile at him. Sam looks even paler in the lamplight, just his head poking out from under the covers. “What is it, Sammy?”

“Can you - can you sleep with me? Please?”

“‘Course I can,” Dean says after a moment. He changes course, getting into bed with Sam, and his little brother immediately burrows into his side, grabbing on to Dean’s arm and wrapping it around himself. Dean chuckles, letting himself be manipulated into whatever position Sam wants. “You comfortable?” he asks, when Sam has managed to situate himself securely between Dean’s arms.

“Mm-hmm,” Sam says, pressing his face into the space between Dean’s chin and shoulder. “You’re warm.”

“How are you feelin’ now?” Dean asks, running a hand down Sam’s back. His brother is so small right now that Dean’s palm almost covers his entire back. Sam had always been a bit on the small side for his age, Dean remembers fondly, until the Great Dramatic Teenage Growth Spurt, better known as the time Dean spent endlessly bitching about Sam being taller than him.

“‘M okay,” Sam tells him sleepily. “Dee?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“What happened to big me?” 

Dean pauses in the act of rubbing Sam’s back. In his worry over Sam being sick, he’d almost forgotten the kid’s propensity for questions and his endless curiosity. “Well, big you became small you,” he says in the end. “It’s the same ol’ you, kiddo. You’re just a bit smaller now.”

Sam is quiet at that. Just when Dean begins hoping his curiosity is satisfied, though, he asks, “Is big me good?”

“Is big you good?” Dean hums thoughtfully. He has no idea how to even begin to answer. There’s nothing about adult Sam’s life that’s even halfway palatable for a child to hear. All the pain and horror, and not to mention the fact that until Sam had become a child, Dean hadn’t been speaking much to him... he has no idea how to explain it.

Sam, it seems, takes the worst possible idea from his silence. He sniffles, in a wet sort of way that has nothing to do with his illness, and then asks, voice watery, “Dee? Am I a bad person?”

“What? Sammy, no,” Dean says at once, heart sinking. Sam sounded so afraid when he asked, like he thought the answer would be yes, and Dean can’t fathom how someone this young could worry so intensely about something like this. “Sammy, you’re not a bad person at all! You’re like a hero, kid. A superhero, like Dad. But even better,” he adds.

“I don’ feel like a superhero,” Sam says after some time, voice thin and shaky. “I feel... I feel bad.”

“Like sick?” Dean asks, though he knows that’s not what Sam meant.

Sam shakes his head, curls tickling Dean’s chin. “No, not like ‘m sick. Just... bad, Dee.”

“But you’re not,” Dean tells him, moving his hand from Sam’s back to his head so he can run his fingers through Sam’s hair. He scratches lightly at Sam’s scalp, knowing he likes it, and sure enough, Sam lets out a small sound of contentment, almost against his will. “You’re not bad, Sammy. Not small you, and definitely not big you. In fact, you’re the best person I know.” And as he says it, he realizes it’s true; despite every mistake Sam’s made, he’s the bravest person Dean knows, and the strongest. Not everyone has the strength to keep on fighting against the worst odds in the world like Dean’s little brother does.

“Even when I’m big?” Sam asks, sounding infinitely hopeful. He raises his head to look at Dean, eyes wide and bright, and the innocence of his expression makes something stick in Dean’s throat.

“Yeah,” he says, trying not to sound choked up. “Especially when you’re big. You’re my favorite person, Sammy. In the whole wide world. Nothing’s ever gonna change that, kiddo.”

“Promise?” Sam asks, voice small.

Dean nods. “Promise,” he whispers, and tilts his head forward so he can kiss Sam’s forehead.

Sam watches him for a few seconds, as if searching his face for the truth. Whatever he finds satisfies him; he smiles and presses a tiny, pudgy hand to Dean’s cheek. “You’re my favorite too, Dee,” he tells him, and plasters a wet kiss to Dean’s face. “On the whole planet.”

And then he lays his head back down on Dean’s chest, thankfully before he can see Dean begin to tear up. Dean takes a moment to compose himself, swallowing the lump in his throat and discreetly wiping at his tears with his free hand, before settling back down with both arms around Sam again. “Thanks, Sammy,” he murmurs into Sam’s hair.

What he wouldn’t give, he thinks as Sam begins dozing off, to hear the same words from the adult version of his brother. He misses him so much, so ferociously it’s an ache in his chest, even though little Sam makes him smile and makes his heart feel lighter than it has in forever. And it’s strange, he thinks, to want someone when they’re right next to you, literally sleeping in your lap, but there it is. He misses his Sam, with his stupid floppy hair and his bitchfaces and his weird obsession with salad.

But until the spell wears off, and he gets his Sam back, he’s going to make the most of his time with little Sam. And if Dean has to tell him every day that he’s the best person in the whole world, he’ll do it and not complain even once. It’s the least Sammy deserves.

God, he’d move heaven and hell for Sam if he had to. Any version of him. And every part of him aches to be able to tell his Sam that. He just hopes he gets the chance soon.