#enough clown horror. those are my friends

[donniecore]

oh what i wouldn’t do for a little pierrot clown to raise as my own……. to feed them their favored diet of blueberries and stale sprinkles .

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence(ish) summaries of every magnus archive episode PART 2

(eps 61-110) thank u for the funny comments and tags on the last part i love u guys

the rest of these may take a while as i've caught up to where i am currently in the podcast but i will finish them like in a month i promise

----

61. the thrilling sequel to man does not open coffin: man DOES open coffin.

62. surely this doctor can find an easier way to scam people out of money than putting them in a little book.

63. THE DARK ATE MY BROTHER IN LAW.

64. this is possibly the plot of laura croft tomb raider

65. mmm crumchy

66. what's the opposite of an unboxing video

67. as close to a coffeeshop au as you're going to get from this podcast

68. Doctors hate him! Man REFUSES to die from tuberculosis!

69. your college's psych department has the worst idea ever.

70. reverse death note

71. not even death will stop this woman from taking the british subway

72. man doesn't want to be low key racist in his last moments before getting eaten

73. police versus the second coming of dark jesus

74. lady is haunted by an ad for coffee

75. mike crew says "uh fuck it let's just put this guy on a skyscraper forever"

76. ryan from buzzfeed unsolved breaks into a train yard and suffers consequences

77. you're not a enough of a bitch to be my real mom

78. man gets harassed by his cousin and then exorcises him

79. you know that chase scene in scooby doo with the doors

80. stupid idiot motherfucking jurgen leitner

81. i have been personally victimized by the sequel to the hungry hungry caterpillar

82. pov: elias threatens to cancel you

83. mannequin takes matters into its own hands after people don't like its pitch for a new window display

84. a hoarder put newspaper on my friend's face :(

85. hey there's maybe a little man upon these stairs?

86. man gets got by a squiggly thing in the dark.

87. plumber is so oblivious to spooky happenings around him that it possibly saves his life.

88. guys i think this guy likes to dig

89. lesbian investment banker finds a new, less evil job: arson!

90. guy who turns people's bones starts a gym where he promises not to turn your bones! (he is lying)

91. i was stalked by lightning for 10 years and i all i got were these stupid scars

92. jonah magnus is a bad friend // another day another elias slay

93. ocd is no match for purple fuzz

94. let the bodies drop gently to the floor let the bodies drop gently to the floor

95. im so sorry my brain refuses to remember what the war ones were about but i think one guy got gently kissed on the forehead so that's pretty nice.

96. diversity wins! the not-quite-human delivery men who stole your identity and business are maybe gay?

97. man gets gaslighted by an entire town about a hole

98. 🎶mister sandman bring me a dream, actually don't, please stay far from me 🎶

99. another one bites the dust

100. archival assistants face off against the general public (they lose)

101. jon finally levels up high enough to unlock an eldritch horror's tragic backstory

102. LOCAL MAN MARRIES BUG

103. peppa eats a clown and they cover her in concrete instead of congratulating her.

104. pennywise stole my brother's skin

105. it's world war z baby

106. Something Big Is In Space.

107. man is interrogated about the time he saw thomas the train roasts people alive and also sans is there

108. actor is stalked by mask who liked his monologue so much that it tells its mask friends to come watch.

109. sometimes a family is just a serial killer's daughter and that guy who maybe killed some vampires

110. yeah man those spiders be eating

Part 1 |

[ghostbeam]

can you feel my heart beating like a hammer? | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

You watch from your spot, shoulders tense as you anticipate the arrival of yet another creepy clown or zombie when you see him.

He’s not like the other actors. He’s not quick with his movements and doesn’t yell or jump at anyone. His terror lies in the fact that he does none of those things, that he stands across from you and stares.

And then he grins.

Your stomach turns but not in fear.

Notes: hiiiiii so this is my scare actor!dabi fic. It’s my halloween/October fic for the month!! I’ve been working on this for a while and I’ve finally finished only five days before halloween lmao. Wanna thank mari for calling me after class that day where we had the same exact thought of this at the same time and I had to pull over to put it in my notes (and also for thinking of this title cause I was struggling) anyways I hope you enjoy!!! thanks for reading!! (Title from help I'm alive by metric) listen to the playlist here!

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, f!reader, explicit content, scare actor!dabi, Dabi is touya (quite literally he is not called Dabi in this at all ajhssjsjjss), sex in public, fearplay (kind of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation (very brief), oral f!receiving, fingering, multiple instances where Dabi rests his hand on ur neck but never chokes u, biting (shoulder, neck), ‘baby’ and ‘angel’ as pet names, use of ‘good girl’, frightening (debatable im not that good) depictions of scare actors and haunts, one description of gory makeup, fake weapons

Words: 5k

You’re scared, terrified actually, and your friends are nowhere in sight.

You’re cold. You’re hungry. A clown with a chainsaw won’t stop following you around, and you just want to go home. 

When you were invited to the local haunted house, your first instinct was to say no. You’d always been afraid of these things, anything with jumpscares, anything not contained in the screen of your television, you decided wasn’t for you. But your friends insisted and explained that the local haunt wouldn’t be anything like any of those expensive theme parks with big productions and highly trained actors. 

But if you were being honest with yourself, it all felt the same to you. It was maybe a little creepier, out in a field in the middle of nowhere, the closest business a couple of miles away, and no background checks for the actors. Uneasiness washed over you the moment you stepped through the wooden gates.

And now you’re alone.

Scare actors are coming at you left and right, all dressed in dark makeup or clown outfits or fake blood, each with their very own faux weapon used for getting just close enough to you without touching. They’re targeting you because you’re scared, you realize because you scream and clutch your head and run in all different directions when they come at you. 

It’s quite the production for a local haunt. It’s eerie, smoke machines pour fog throughout, and music that ranges from creepy carnival tunes to popular horror movie scores blare through worn-out speakers, which add to the effect. The actors are painted with precision or covered in liquid latex and black blood that oozes from fake wounds. You feel like you’re in a horror movie. You might be in one, for all you know, which is what scares you the most

You finally find a moment to calm yourself down, seeking a single moment of peace against a makeshift wall on the outside of a haunted house. 

You take a moment to look around you, out over the sea of people and costumes. You observe the way the actors jump at the attendees, throwing themselves forward or making loud noises, dragging and tapping their fake weapons against the ground. It’s complete chaos, and you thought that seeing it from the sidelines would make it less terrifying for you, but it doesn’t. You don’t want to be here. 

You watch from your spot, shoulders tense as you anticipate the arrival of yet another creepy clown or zombie when you see him. 

He’s not like the other actors. He’s not quick with his movements and doesn’t yell or jump at anyone. His terror lies in the fact that he does none of those things, that he stands across from you and stares.

And then he grins.

Your stomach turns but not in fear. 

He’s not scary, just strange, and oddly handsome too, you think. You don’t smile back, but you keep your eyes on him. You aren’t sure if his smile is part of his act or if he means it. Somehow, both make you uneasy. 

He’s slow as he moves towards you, calculated. His eyes rake up and down your body as he approaches. As he comes closer, you can finally get a good look at his face, smudged with paint over scars that fall underneath both eyes and line his jaw. What looks to be like staples sit in the seam between the marked and unmarked skin, and you can’t tell if they’re part of the costume or if he wears the piercings when he’s not working. You kind of hope he does.

He looms over you, close enough that you can smell a mixture of sweat and cologne on his skin, but not enough to touch you. You think you want him to, though. His eyes are a brilliant blue, almost glowing against the night. 

He’s beautiful. You can tell even hidden under the face paint. His costume is stitched together with yarn at the seams of his shoulders, silver staples that imitate the piercings on his face scatter the stitches. His coat is long and reaches the middle of his calves, and a loose white shirt drapes over his chest. His dark jeans wear the same stitches as his coat, and his dark boots are big, the sound of the soles against the pavement is loud as he steps even closer to you. 

Touya’s never had any particular interest in any of the attendees of the haunt before. Sure, he’s taken girls home who’d bravely slipped their numbers into his pocket or caught him when his shift was over, but no one had ever caught his eye quite like you. 

He’d seen you cowering before his coworkers, running away and screaming, not unlike many of the people around you. But he had noticed you.

And now you’re standing not even an inch away from him, staring up at him with wide eyes and trembling so hard he can almost feel you. You’re adorable. He wants to see you like this underneath him with your back arched, pretty lips parted for him, just for him. 

Your moment is interrupted by the revving of a chainsaw and the dragging of metal against pavement as yet another clown laughs loudly in your ear. You jump, unconsciously moving forward, finding yourself in the arms of the patchwork man you’d been so captivated by. You squeak out a small sorry, but he says nothing, smirking down at you.

Dabi’s heart leaps in his chest. He wants to steal you away, pull you into one of the haunts, and fuck you behind one of the walls. No one would suspect a thing if he covered you in enough fake blood to pass as one of them, making you scream in pleasure against the screams of fear. 

His eyes flicker to your lips before he lowers his hands to your waist, squeezing tightly before backing away from you and leaving you alone without a word. 

…

After another half an hour of running from scare actors and looking for your friends, you finally find them near a food stand, unassuming and completely unaware you’d disappeared.

You sprint towards them, getting good at dodging anyone jumping at you after all of that time alone. Your best friend spots you first, her eyes widening as she walks towards you.

“Where the fuck did you go?” She questions with a drink in one hand that flashes different colors from the plastic light-up ice in the liquid. 

“You guys left me!” You exclaim, “I’ve been dodging those fuckers for an hour alone!”

“We thought you were with us. I promise! We went in that one haunt with the possession scene and when we came out you were gone!” She explains, but you can’t help but feel a little annoyed. You didn’t even want to come out tonight. You’d only said yes because she begged. 

“Did you look for me?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Look,” She begins, “Everything is so chaotic here. Everyone was moving on to the next house! I figured you’d catch up!”

“You suck.” You pout.

“I know I do. I’m sorry!” She pleads. “I’ll buy you something to eat. C’mon.”

She buys your meal and leads you to some of the wooden picnic tables in the small area, the rest of your friends already occupying some of the space. You’re treated warmly as they all throw questions at you about where you went. You resist the urge to act upset or make a scene, explaining that you’d been running around and looking for them while trying to avoid fake chainsaws and machetes. You’re in the middle of telling a story about getting caught in a corner with one of the zombies when your friends start to erupt in a fit of giggles. You pause your story, confused at their sudden reaction when you feel someone blow at your neck.

It only surprises you, all the fear expelled from your body in your hour of terror. You turn to look at the source and there he is again, the patchwork man from earlier. You’re not scared of him, this time, only intrigued. 

He hovers over you, moving and contorting his neck in a way that you assume is meant to be creepy, but it does nothing but amuse you. 

You smile and let out a small laugh, looking up at him through your lashes. Dabi feels his jeans tighten at the way you look up at him, eyebrows pulled up in a pout, leaning closer as he grins. 

“Are you ever gonna tell me your name?” You ask him, eyes flickering to his lips for a moment. He shakes his head slowly, maintaining eye contact while holding a finger to his mismatched lips. You give him yours, but he only stares. You’re once again pulled in by the blue in his eyes, finding yourself wondering if they’re a different shade than the last time you saw him. “Not even if I beg?”

He’ll punish you for that later, Dabi thinks. 

You watch him reach behind his back, still bent over towards your face, readying yourself for what you think might be the fake machete he carried before.

He pulls a single yellow daisy from behind him, clutching it between two fingers as he holds it out to you. You know he must have picked it from one of the patches of green that scatter the field. Your friends giggle some more, whispering things you're unable to focus on at the moment. You look between his painted face and the flower, reaching out to take it from him.

Suddenly feeling bashful, you lean away from him, smelling the flower and twirling it between your fingers. The smile he gives you is genuine.

He leans closer to you, bringing a finger up to his cheek and tapping twice to signal something. He wants a kiss, you realize. It’s against the rules, and he knows this. Scare actors are not meant to touch the guests, and doing so could get them into a lot of trouble. But Touya wants to touch you. He remembers the feeling of you pressed against him when you’d jumped in fear of the clown from earlier. He’d broken the rule then, and he had no problem with breaking it again.

If not for your friends' excited squeals around you, you’re sure you would have frozen. You push yourself forward, placing a kiss to his cheek before you can talk yourself out of it. He smiles wide as you pull away, that creepy grin still on his face as he stares down at you. 

When he stands up, he begins to back away slowly without a word. You watch him walk, clutching a fist over his heart and giving you a giddy smile as he leaves. 

You feel disheartened knowing you might not see him again tonight. You place the flower behind your ear and take your eyes off where he disappeared. 

…

You and your friends stay until closing. As the night goes on, you find yourself getting used to the fear. You think you like it now, adrenaline running through your body as you're chased with chainsaws or reached for through windows inside of the haunts. It’s exhilarating. You understand why people like these so much.

Scare actors are practically chasing people out, running at them with their weapons until they make it through the gates. It’s complete mayhem, especially with the number of people now pushed to the front of the area. 

Amidst the chaos, you find yourself alone again. You search the crowd, avoiding the actors jumping toward you as you make your way through the sea of people. You push through different groups of people until you make it to a small open spot amidst the crowd. It’s there that you see the man from before, jumping at different people who walk by him. He drags his fake machete against the floor and it scrapes with a metallic grinding sound. He’s terrifying, you think. Not to you, but to anyone around him, he must be terrifying. 

He’s tall and imposing, completely silent as he pushes his weapon toward anyone he can reach. He’s fast, too, running up on different people, the sound of his big black boots is loud against the pavement.

You can’t move. You can only stare at him, completely in his element. He’s good at what he does, better and far more intimidating than any of the other actors you’ve encountered tonight. But somehow, you aren’t scared at all, not of him and not in any real way. Maybe you should be, though. 

He turns around, looking around as he walks from his last set of victims before his eyes find you. A smile crosses his face and he lifts a hand, wagging his fingers to wave at you. You avert your eyes in embarrassment that he caught you, even in the crowd of people. 

He stalks towards you, dragging his weapon behind him. He’s menacing, and you can’t help but feel a little afraid of him, wondering if he’ll jump towards you or do something to scare you all over again. When he approaches, you watch him smirk from under his makeup, close enough to see the texture of his skin and the blue of his eyes. He runs a finger down your arm until he reaches your hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling you along with him. 

You know you shouldn’t follow him. This is how people go missing, how people are found in a ditch with their friends crying on the news about how they were just with them. 

But you can’t bring yourself to care. You find him endlessly fascinating, from the way he moves to his dark demeanor. He’s strange and unsettling, but you like it. You want strange and unsettling, contrary to your feelings earlier in the night. 

Dabi can feel your hand trembling in his. He rubs soothing circles with his thumb over the top of your hand. He doesn’t want you to be too afraid of him. He wants you to like him. He’s almost embarrassed by it, seeking the approval of a random girl who visited the haunt. When he looks back at you, your eyes are wide, mouth agape as you let him pull you through the crowd of people. You look at him with curiosity and intrigue more than fear. Dabi feels his heart beat faster in his chest.

He pulls you to one of the haunts, one you went through earlier with a zombie rock band, a ridiculous theme that you remember scaring you the least. Guitar blares through the speakers as you enter, moving the curtains back that cover each entrance. You realize that the place is empty, with no scare actors ready to jump out, no one on the sets or acting out any of the scenes you remember. It’s just the two of you now. 

You feel his arm curl around your waist as he pulls you behind one of the openings in the walls. It’s one of the spaces that the scare actors use to hide in before jumping out at the guests. It’s surprisingly spacious, and there’s a door that must lead outside of the structure or into another room. You don’t have time to ponder it before you’re pushed up against one of the walls, his hands squeezing your hips as he looks down at you with hungry eyes. 

“I’ve wanted to touch you like this all night long. You were so fucking scared.” He speaks, lowering his head to the crook of your neck, and you almost gasp at the sound of his voice. It’s rough, gravelly. It vibrates against your body where he brushes his lips against you. “It was so cute.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling him grin against your skin before licking over your pulse point. You moan, the sound almost swallowed up by the loud eerie rock music reverberating in the makeshift building. Dabi wants to make you louder. He wants you to scream.

“Are you—hah—gonna tell me your name?” You ask him as he continues to kiss your neck. His hands are all over you, squeezing the flesh of your hips, running his hands over your thighs and your arms, hands underneath your sweater, up your skirt. You can’t focus on anything but his hands and his mouth and his hard body pressed up against yours. You almost want him closer, if that’s even possible, tangling your fingers into his hair and arching your body into his. 

You’re sure your neck must be covered in smudgy face paint. His mouth is probably a muddy mess, or maybe all of the paint is gone, but you don’t care. His lips feel good on your skin. He feels good. 

It barely registers that he ignores your question. “What? You’re back to not speaking?”

He’s silent, once again, pulling away from your neck to smile down at you. You were right, the paint is almost completely gone from the bottom half of his face, leaving behind the sight of scars in contrast to the unmarked skin on his cheeks. You’re panting, looking into his eyes as he reveals nothing. He leans forward to kiss you, catching you by surprise even though he was sucking on your neck just moments ago. The kiss is short, with barely enough time to feel his tongue against yours before he pulls away. 

“So mysterious.” You quip, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment of being affected by one kiss. He pulls his long coat from his shoulders to reveal surprisingly muscular arms covered in the same scars and piercings that litter his face. He continues with his vow of silence as he starts to lower himself before you, placing kisses against your chest and your stomach as he falls to his knees. His hands sneak up your skirt. “Oh, fuck.”

He raises the front of your skirt, moving one of your hands to hold it against your stomach. He runs his hands up the front of your thighs, looking up at you through thick lashes, spreading your legs even further apart. He brings a hand forward, pressing the pad of his thumb against your clothed cunt. He gives you a look, and he doesn’t need to speak for you to know what he’s thinking, for you to be embarrassed by how wet you are from just a little groping. 

He moves his hand and leans forward, pulling you by your hips and burying his face in between your legs. You feel his tongue through your underwear, gasping at the feeling, simultaneously too much and not enough. You bury your free hand in his hair as he licks you through the layer of fabric. Your panties are thoroughly ruined, your inner thighs sticky with your slick. He groans against you, tasting what little of you he can through the barrier. He pulls away and rips them from your thighs, wasting no time before he’s in between your legs once more. 

“God!” It’s not his name, but it’ll do. “Fuck, right there!”

He laps at your entrance, completely lost in making you feel good. Every moan he pulls from you only spurs him on, tonguing your cunt like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He thinks that maybe it is. 

You buck your hips against his face, fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt and pulling at his hair as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm. He runs one hand up your thigh, pulling away for a moment to slip a finger inside of you. He groans at how much of a mess you’ve become, how much of a mess he’s made you. He adds another finger, watching how easily they slide in and out of you. He looks up at you, silently asking if it’s something you like, and the moan you let out tells him that it is. You nod at him, moving your hips while he moves his fingers in and out of you. 

“Please!” You whine, missing the feeling of his tongue on you. “Need more!”

He slows the movements of his fingers down, pulling another unsatisfied groan from your throat. It’s cute how impatient you are, how he’s reduced you to such a hungry little thing, all for him.

He moves one hand behind your knee, hiking your leg over one of his shoulders and earning a surprised gasp from your lips. His tongue finds your clit again, running tight circles around you as his fingers speed up. 

You grind against his face, closer to the edge than before, moaning at the sensation of his mouth against your entrance. He curls his fingers inside of you and licks over your clit, his motions repetitive and focused as he feels you clench around his fingers. You’re close, and he can feel it, and it’s taking everything in him not to beg you to come for him.

“I’m gonna—” a strangled cry escapes your throat as he brings you to the edge. He slows his movements down as you ride out your orgasm, thrusting his fingers slowly and licking languid strokes over your clit. Hips spamming against him, you have to push his head away from your sex, breathing heavily and running your fingers through the hair falling in his eyes. He’s gorgeous when he looks up at you through a glistening grin. He rises from the ground, bringing the two fingers, now covered in your slick, towards his mouth. You whimper as you watch him wrap his own lips around the two digits, his eyes never leaving yours. He releases them with a sticky pop, surging forwards to capture your lips with his. 

It’s better than the one before, longer, slower. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He slots his body against yours as he deepens the kiss, and you can feel him hard against your thigh. His hands run up your sides, over your breasts up to your sternum. He rests one hand against the front of your neck, gently and not squeezing, just to keep you there against him. He slips his tongue into your mouth while his other hand sneaks up the back of your sweater. He has your bra off before you have any time to think, and then he runs his fingers over your nipples. 

He’s much gentler than you thought he’d be, especially under the circumstances. He has you pressed up against a wall in public. You’re someone he’s only just met, and you know you must not be the first person he’s done this with. 

But he kisses you like he loves you. 

And maybe it’s the adrenaline or the raucous music preventing you from thinking clearly, but you think that maybe he could. Maybe you want him too. 

God, you’re crazy. 

He sucks your tongue into his mouth again and you tug at the strands of hair at the back of his head. Your movements become more frantic as you push your bodies closer together. Twitching hands find the front of his jeans, thumbing the button open and stroking your hand over him. He groans into your mouth, a faint curse as he pushes his hips forward. He bites your lip hard before pulling away from you, pulling a shiny square package from his pocket and releasing himself from the constraint of his underwear. He tears it open with his teeth and rolls the condom on, reaching down to hike your leg back up like it had been before. With one strong hand holding you up from behind your knee, he drags the head of his cock through your folds, pulling another moan from you that you try to suppress in the crook of his neck. 

His lips find yours once more, swallowing the sounds you make as he sinks into you. You arch your back, pushing yourself closer as he stretches you. The stretch is almost too much, even with the mess he’s made of you, but you feel good, full, complete.

He starts slow, long drawn-out thrusts of his hips that drive you crazy. He touches you everywhere, squeezing anywhere he can get his hands on, sucking on your neck, your chest. He kisses over your face, sweet pecks of his lips to your jaw and cheeks. It’s overwhelming, the attention he gives you, the need to put your pleasure before his, to make you feel wanted. You are wanted. 

He’s getting desperate now, speeding up as he moves against you. He reaches so deep, keeping your leg hiked up with your back against the wall. You aren’t gonna last much longer, not with his tongue in your mouth, not with the sound of his own whines meeting your ears as he quickens his thrusts. 

“Please—” You beg, digging your fingers into his hips. You’re so close, clenching around him so tightly he can barely think. His eyes find yours as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to your release, neon blue clouding your vision before you throw your head back against the wall behind you. Pleasure wracks through your body as he pulls you even closer. You fall limp in his arms, feeling him release your leg and pull out of you. You rest your forehead against his as you calm your breathing.

“Think you can give me one more?” The rare sound of his voice startles you. His hand finds the back of your head, pulling away to look into your eyes. Dazed, you nod at him, watching him smile down at you. “Good girl.”

He kisses your cheek, and you let him spin you around to face the wall. You brace yourself against it, two hands flat on the surface as you feel him behind you. He places sloppy kisses against your neck, slowly entering you once more. You gasp, still sensitive from before, but he shushes you, nibbling on your earlobe as he moves in and out of you. 

“Your—hah—your name.” You whine, barely getting the words out as he quickens his pace. He groans behind you, leaning forward to bite your shoulder, thrusting in quick short motions against you. “Please! Fuck! Wanna—”

“You wanna what, baby?” He breathes against your ear. He places a kiss beneath it, peppering more down your neck as he slows down. 

“Don’t! Please don’t slow down.” You beg, pushing yourself against him. 

He leans his large frame against your back, bringing an arm around the front of your chest, resting his hand at the base of your neck. He pulls your back against him, lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna—ngh—scream it.” You pant, feeling his thrusts speed up at your admission. “Wanna scream your name.”

“‘Course you do, angel.” He coos, running a hand down the front of your body until it slips up your skirt. You feel his fingers against your clit and gasp, twitching from the sensitivity. It’s too much. You want more. “Call me Touya.”

“Touya!” You cry, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. Touya, Touya, Touya. It sounds perfect falling from your lips. You were meant to say it, meant to scream it just like this. “Wanna come. Make me come, Touya.”

He buries his face into your neck, biting down hard as he speeds up the movements of his hips and his fingers on your clit. You scream, just how he’s wanted you to all night, the feeling of pain and pleasure leaving you dizzy. 

“Gonna—” You choke, moaning his name once again. He groans against your skin.

“I know, baby, me too.” His thrusts become sloppier, feeling himself approach the edge, but not before you. You scream his name one last time, reaching your high just moments before him. He cries out after, pulling your face towards his to kiss you deeply once more. 

Realizing where you are, music still playing loudly through the speakers, your body up against a rough wooden wall, and Touya’s tongue in your mouth, you force yourself to pull away. He moves away from you, taking a moment to discard the condom and pick up your ruined underwear from the ground. You lay your head against the wall, throwing your arm over your eyes and laughing at the absurdity of the situation. 

You think about the feeling of dread from the beginning of the night, how quickly you ran from the men in masks and makeup, the fake chainsaws and knives. And now you’d been fucked by one, one you’d learned the name of just seconds ago. 

When Touya returns, you’ve fixed yourself, putting your bra back on and pulling your skirt down, though you’re still without underwear. He walks towards you, cupping your face with one large hand and looking down at you.

“You okay?” He questions, genuine concern in his cyan gaze. You give him a shy smile and nod. He narrows his eyes before giving you a sly smile. “I need verbal confirmation.”

“I’m okay, Touya.” You tell him, wrapping your hand around his wrist and resting it there. 

“Fuck,” he speaks, “say it again.”

“You should’ve told me sooner.” You say, ignoring the command. He rolls his eyes, kissing your forehead before pulling away. He takes your hand in his and opens the door beside you.

“C’mon let’s get you cleaned up, then I’ll take you home.” He leads you through the door, down a labyrinth of alleys all connected by the various haunts. He looks back at you and shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry. Your friends are probably gone.”

“Probably.” You don’t care, but you should. And you shouldn’t let him take you home. You shouldn’t let him touch your face gently or take you to one of the twenty-four-hour diners nearby after you leave. You shouldn’t give him your number. You shouldn’t let him take you out once, twice, three times. You shouldn’t let him sneak you into a different haunt the next time you visit him at work.

You do anyway. 

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Birthday Parties Part 2

Alien: Do you have plans for the days of ending? Human: You mean weekend? Human: Yeah, I’ll be out celebrating my birthday. Alien: What the florp is a birth day? Human: A day we celebrate the day of our birth. Alien: In your case more of a blight upon the universe, no? ----------------------------

Alien: What purpose does this “Birthing day” serve? Human: It’s different for each person. Human: Some celebrate it as a day of vanity all about themselves. Human: Other’s see it as a mark of honor to have survived another year in a universe bent on their eradication. Human: Then there are those who seek companionship with friends and loved ones for a day of joy. Alien: Which are you? Human: The kind were I can eat an entire cake and not have anyone judge me. -----------------------------

Alien: What are those stacks of colorful boxes? Human: They are called “Presents”. Human: Guests give them to the person with the birthday. Alien: Ah, so you are paying tribute. Human: What? No. Alien: Does a larger gift not constitute a desire for a greater ranking? Human: I mean, sometimes it’s the thought that counts. Alien: I take it yours is the smallest offering on the table then? Human: Shut it! ---------------------------

*Giant cake rolled in and children get all excited* *Top bursts open and a clown jumps out* Clown: Who’s ready for fun with Boggles the Clown!? *Kids start cheering* *Alien comes up from behind and smashes a wooden chair into the Boggle’s back sending him to the ground while the kids scream and scatter* Alien: You do not deceive me pennywise the clown! *Lifts Boggles up and throws him into wall* Alien: You shall not have minen or these tiny human’s souls today! Human friend: *Off to the side drinking* This is the last fucking time I show you a horror movie. ---------------------------

Alien: What purposes does this activity serve? Human: It’s a game. Human: You get blindfolded and you try to pin the tail on the donkey. Alien: What manner of barbarians would remove a tail of such a noble create, only to then mock it by reattaching it? Human: I think you are reading too much into this. Alien: Were as I think you not enough. ----------------------------

Alien: FINE! *Alien is finally blindfolded and given the tail to pin* Human 2: You did warn them not to use their full strength, right? Human: Oh shit… *Alien stabs out with all their might but misses wall entirely and instead impales nearby party guest* Alien: I hear screams, does this mean I win? ----------------------

Human: So you take the knife and you cut a piece off for everyone. *Hands alien the knife* Alien: What if I do not wish to share this pastry? Human: I mean, that’s not really an option. Alien: But I have the knife; who would stop me? Human 2: *whispers* What do we do? Human: *Whispers back* I have no idea. No one’s pulled the knife gambit before. ---------------------

Human: What’d you get little timmy? Alien: a 44 magnum. Human: WHAT?!!? Human: What made you think it that was a good idea?!?! Alien: It was on conjunction with my mate’s gift to him. Human: What could possibly be in conjunction with a 44 magnum for an 11 year old?!!? *Loud groaning now heard from outside* Alien Mate: I have unleashed the virus and turned the guests into the requested zombies. --------------------

Human: Alright, there was some confusion with the clown last time and some people got hurt; but we’re cool now, right? Alien: *sighs* Yes. Human: No brutalizing the family entertainment, okay? Alien: Okay. Human: Alright then, good. Human: *Turns to kids* Who’s ready for some Mortal Kombat?! *Excited kids screaming happily as Scorpion and Sub Zero mascots show up* Alien: *Rolls over table and proceeds to remove Sub Zero’s head* Alien: FATALITY!!! *Kids start screaming and running away again* Human: Alright, that one was partly on me.

[that-weird-mime]

WELCOME TO THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS

Wait, did we say circus? That can't be right.. This place is more of a freakshow than a fun place with clowns and tricks! So let me try again.. Welcome to the Amazing Digital Horror. Enjoy your stay.

TADH is a silly TADC au me and my good friend cartooemcanhis made! Where Caine isn't like is usual friendly self, and there are abstractions around every corner.. Abstractions that do a little more than just glitch you when they attack.. Anyways, enough about those loathing pieces of insanity! Now we have the active players.. Jax, Gangle, Ragatha, Zooble, Kinger, and out newest, Pomni! Doing deadly missions and surviving abstraction attacks for your entertainment (and their own survival)!

Will they survive? Who knows! But trust me, it'll be a good watch.. (My dear co-conspirator will be making a post with more info on the plot, along with character info I think! Check them out!)

[stuffnonsenseandotherthings]

Love in the Big City Part 3 - Notes from a Reader (2)

Note 2: Enter Kylie

In part 3 of Love in the Big City Young finally introduces us to a character who, up until this point, we weren't aware had been present since the very first sentence: Kylie.

Kylie has been with Young since his military service, Kylie was with Young throughout his university years with Jae Hee, throughout his mothers 2 bouts of illness, throughout his relationship with Hyung, for five full years of his life.

And yet it is only now, in Part 3, that Young speaks her name.

And my question is why now?

Note 2.25: Perceptions of HIV in Korean Society

I touched briefly on the stigma and misinformation surrounding HIV in Korean society in this post here but I cannot stress enough how deep rooted those beliefs are:

"According to the 2015 national survey conducted by the Korea Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (KCDC) regarding HIV/AIDS-related knowledge, attitudes, and beliefs, the words most frequently associated with AIDS include “incurable disease” and “death” (25.3%), followed by “fear,” “horror,” and “danger” (11.5%)."

("Factors Influencing Young Korean Men’s Knowledge and Stigmatizing Attitudes about HIV Infection", Shim and Kim)

People living with HIV in Korean society face being tested for HIV without their consent (most Korean companies require their employees undergo annual health screenings), their medical information being shared without their knowledge (the illegality of the data breach is not always a barrier), medical professionals refusing to perform procedures, losing their jobs or being denied job opportunities, and being cut off from their family and friends should they choose to disclose their diagnosis due to poor understanding of what HIV is and how it is transmitted.

In addition to the social stigma, it's also important to understand that many people living with HIV in Korea struggle with poor self-perception and internalised stigma. A study conducted in 2017 found that:

"75% of all respondents felt self-blame due to their HIV status at least once in the past 12 months. 64.4% stated having feelings of guilt, and 59.6% reported having low self-esteem. 26.9 % also agreed with the statement “I had the feeling I should be punished”. [...] Only 13.5% stated that they experienced no negative feelings in connection with their HIV status in the past 12 months."

("Unknown Lives: Initial Findings from the People Living with HIV Stigma Index in South Korea 2016-2017")

Surrounded by so much stigma and misinformation as they are, it is unsurprising that disclosure rates amongst Koreans are lower than in many other countries ("Predictors Associated With HIV Status Non-Disclosure in Korea", Kim and Woo) and that many chose not to share their diagnosis with any one but especially those closest to them (and especially ).

Note 2.5: Young and Kylie

Young's experience with Kylie closely maps on to the experiences of Korean PLHIV (People Living with HIV) discussed above.

Firstly, he is diagnosed with Kylie after being tested for it without his consent (p. 135) and lives with the fear of a repeat scenario, especially in relation to how such an infringement on his person would affect his ability to get a job (pp. 163-164 and again p. 176). In addition to this, he is exposed first hand (and quite possibly partook in prior to his own diagnosis) the social stigma that accompanies a known HIV diagnosis:

"When I drank with them, some guy rumoured to be poz passed by, our resident clown Eun-Jung would say, 'Everyone cover your glasses,' and we'd all burst out laughing." (p. 157)

(On a side note, in a study I can frustratingly no longer find it was observed that HIV stigma was not much lower amongst the queer community in Korea than it was in any other cross section of society and this passage feels like a nod to how the lack of easily accessible information and long held misinformation has effectively barred queer Koreans with HIV from finding support amongst their own community.)

Finally, as blasé and as care-free as Young tries to sound about his diagnosis, there are definitely signs that he, like so many others, suffers with feelings of guilt, self-blame, and the belief that "[he] should be punished". Kylie is the reason he expects Gyu-Ho to walk away from him as soon as he discloses his diagnosis, Kylie is the reason he tells Gyu-Ho to sleep around in Japan and subsequently accepts things when he believes Gyu-Ho is continuing to do so once back in Korea, "Kylie is [his] burden to bare and [his] alone" (p. 166) even when Gyu-Ho is the one who willingly "potion[s] out [his] pills and water every morning" (p. 178) and obviously has no qualms about helping Young manage his illness.

Kylie is the reason Young lets Gyu-Ho go:

"Kylie.

I had wanted too much. I'd already been given so much in the past three years. When you try to have too much, you're bound to stumble at some point." (p. 176).

Note 2.75: Why Now?

Young's experience with Kylie is the mirror of many Korean PLHIV and this includes his reluctance to disclose his diagnosis to anyone. He doesn't tell his mother, he doesn't tell Hyung, he doesn't tell the T-aras, and he doesn't tell Jae Hee.

It's only natural that he wouldn't tell us, the reader, either.

It's none of our business.

This is his most closely guarded secret, his most vulnerable point, the spectre that looms over his life and threatens to take everything away if he puts a foot wrong or lets slip to the wrong person.

The only person in the story he shares Kylie's existence with (beyond his doctors) is Gyu-Ho and it is because Gyu-Ho knew and stayed and embraced him that we know.

So why now?

Because up until Gyu-Ho, Young probably didn't feel able to talk about Kylie to anyone, in anyway. Gyu-Ho's acceptance of his diagnosis and his refusal to let it scare him away changed that; it created a space in which Kylie could be talked about, not without fear (certainly not) but with the knowledge that he wouldn't be abandoned or judged or rejected, that he would be sympathised with and loved and supported.

"Because whatever it was or wasn't, you were you."

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

Oh Rings—can I call you rings?— with every Analysis and au you post my mind becomes intrigued you really understand and get to the heart of are favorite sometimes divorced most times fight couple that is Mishanks. I adore it and your post make you day.

But this Loguetown AU... now, that's some sadness and angst waiting to happen. And genius, truly. It makes sense to draw all these pirates and people to the execution and snap them up as they come rushing in. I'm guessing a lot of Marines and civilians died, but I’m sure that was a sacrifice the World Government was willing to make. Did Doflamingo get caught? He’s got friends or at least blood high up, so I assume he wasn’t caught for long.

And I’m certain just as how Shanks isn’t our fun-loving, calculating Yonko, and Mihawk isn’t our ever-bored, apathetic gardener warlord, as we know and love them in the future. Familiar faces will definitely have differing personalities, yet to face the horrors of paradise and the new world, yet to have their Sabaody arc(or maybe this is their Sabaody) and oh Mihawk you ambitious, vicious, little teen you. I can’t wait for you to earn your new epithet, i’m sure it will be… bloody. And I’m also assuming in this timeline that whoever decides to bring him the offer becoming a warlord is laughed at and then bisected for the gull.

Also total forgot Dragon. Mans is in his prime.. I’m sure he got away maybe he even run into a blue haired red nosed clown? Maybe not we can only guess but ahh that’s the fun of it! Who lives who dies who becomes a revolutionary? pirate? who gives up? that’s what it is really all that aren’t they?

All that to say, I love this au I will now place it delicately into my one piece brain au folder we’re it will be chewed on like a pit bull with lock jaw.

Rings is great! I have to say, I'm thrilled my mishanks posts are such a hit, with you and everyone else enjoying them! I was having fun putting my random thoughts on them out there, and now it's even more fun. Angst and sadness is the key! Maybe it's horrible (and I'm not apologizing for that, lol) but I love drama and discord and awful high-stake situations. And what can give more angst than messing with Shanks right after Roger's death? And throwing Mihawk in there for the ride? The entire pirates-are-captured-by-the-World-goverment-at-Roger's-execution is one big excuse to get Shanks and Mihawk into Marine custody together, where they have only themselves to rely on. And since they are going to meet and fall in love in Marine captivity (they will be there a while) their dynamic will be more intense from the start. Their natural connection + the trauma bond. There's going to be a huge fight and many dead for sure, because none of those pirates are going quietly, but the marines had a plan from the beginning, of course. If they didn't they wouldn't have been able to take anyone. And I will say that they were also gunning for Shanks specifically. For reasons. The marines/admirals/world goverment will certainly be the villians of the story. Doflamingo knew enough to get out of dodge before anything went down, as did certain other people. Coincidence? Well, maybe not. I do love young!mishanks, so Mihawk and Shanks being earlier versions of themselves is half the appeal about this AU. You can see their older selves in them, but they are younger and there's everything that comes with that. They are not quite the men they will become. (and that goes for all the other characters too!) Which means they can be hurt much, much more easily.

I said this was one of my darkest wips because Bad Things are going to happen to them, it won't just be threats or easily patched wounds. This being their Sabaody is spot-on! Everything will be All Right in the end, but they're going to go through things to get there. Mihawk's rise will be bloody. (so will Shanks') and maybe it's too early to talk about this plot, but they're also going to get revenge. through some interesting means. After what Mihawk suffers in the time spent as a captive, the very idea of him becoming a Warlord would be nothing but the highest insult. (That's not to say that becoming one is off the cards, but that's a different story) Ahh, Dragon. He's one of the ones who gets away, with someone else important. Buggy having got away is crucial, because him being free comes into play later. I don't plan on killing many people, but making them suffer is fair game. And this entire scenario is going to change the course of the future for sure. All that is too say, I have all this I need to write and get out there to you guys already, lol. I love how much you love it!

[nova2cosmos]

Blue Moon Circus

That day it was dark, the moon was full and shone with a beautiful blue color.

in the dark streets of the city, two young skeletons walked through these, one being pulled by the other tattooed on the cheek

…: it's getting late you know I'm very sleepy

…: but it's good, I tell you that you like it, this Circus opens these doors only at times of full moon, they are fantastic, you'll see!

…: Ink tomorrow I have a very busy day so…

Ink: Killer? You? since when you worry about your hours of sleep?

Killer: since someone pulled me out of a beautiful dream alongside some hot guys

Ink: you know there are very handsome guys over there

Killer: I want to take a look

after walking for a few minutes through the streets, they came to a large marquee which let hear the screaming of the crowd even from outside.

Killer: it seems to have already started

Ink: go quickly, I don't want to miss the trapeze artist's numbers. He said running inside, I join him and saw him in a second row seat, I also saw a free seat next to him, I then assumed it was mine and sat in it.

after the clown finished his number, it was the turn of the trapeze artist, at that moment Ink stared at this skeleton, he had black, red and yellow bones, and his stage name was Error which I found a bit amusing

when he started his numbers Ink was like hypnotized, observing every movement, every jump

Killer: wow~~ you seem to like this show a lot~

Ink: of course it's fascinating!. He said blushing

Killer: I think it's something else that you find fascinating. said a waggling his eyebrows subjectively

Ink: w-What Killer stop teasing me and concentrate!. He said returning to his contemplation

Killer: pff you're not funny

After this discussion I went back to following the show, the hours passed and the performances were not bad, the animal tamer Powder, had managed to make Lions dance with him, it was cool and fun

then there was the flame eater Horror, who had lit a huge fire that he somehow managed to compress to create small flames that were COLORFUL omg I loved that!

The acrobatics were fun, especially since they seemed to be good friends I think their stage name was Brude, weird but good

then there were plenty of other numbers

Ink: I told you that you would like

Killer: yeah that's really cool!

suddenly there was a big boom with smoke in the center of the scene

then a Laughter was heard, this laughter gave me shivers

Ink: yes he is finally starting his number! Says Ink enthusiastically

not only him but everyone seemed impatient

I think it's probably going to get even cooler now

…: I guess your coming is not fortuitous, you all want to witness the great beauty of the night

the smoke gathered in the center before heading skyward and exploding into magnificent thousands of particles of light

it was wonderful and beautiful

I was amazed both by the lights and by the one who was standing there, he was dressed in a magician's outfit, a half-mask in the shape of a smiling moon that he wears on the right side of his face, his bones were black but seemed a little slimy but so beautiful, and his eyes Omg it was like a mixture between green and purple, he was so beautiful

my face warms up so much, am I blushing?

…: I dare estimate that these humble presents will make you forgive me for my delay. he snapped his fingers and flowers appear from everyone's hands in contact with the particles of light

Ink: Wow Kill you see how cool! eh omg Killer!.he was hysterical and looked at me like "I'm going to tease you so much later"

I was all blushing, everyone had a different flower but why me, me I had

a rose

it doesn't mean anything huh when I look around the room I'm the only one with a rose

as if that wasn't enough he and i made eye contact to which he gave me the sexiest smile i have ever seen in my life

Killer: °internal screaming°

he then continued his show

…: for those who are new to these Places, let me introduce myself, Moon, I am the Owner of this magnificent haven of peace, but also as you may have guessed. He brings up cards in his hands and mixes them quickly before clapping to make them disappear in the smoke. i am a magician

we were all amazed by his tricks

Moon: and I will make this night a wonderful night~

I feel my soul beating at full speed in my rib cage.

tonight is going to be amazing.

END?

[♡♤♧]

I hope you liked this little one Shot, I don't know maybe I could write more over time but hey (or continu it and make a serie)

[house-of-slayterr]

How would pennywise be at a sleepover 💀💀😭

Oh dear god! Ok… um! I myself haven’t been to many sleepovers in my life, but I can tell you one thing. This clown is a fucking menace.

Firstly, who the fuck invited him?!?! The answer is no one, Penny invited him fucking self.

Pennywise shows up right at the scariest part of whatever horror movie you're watching. Mother fucker crawls out of the screen as the killer from the movie. He's laughing his ass off when everyone is screaming and running away.

He absolutely eats the popcorn off the floor that everyone dropped. He'd just plop himself down on top of the telly and wait for everyone to come back. (I'm imagining it's like my first-ever sleepover. Me and my friends were poor so we still had those big old box TVs that took up half the room.)

If everyone gets upset and suggests they turn on a less scary movie after Penny gave them a heart attack, he would simply refuse to move off the television. He doesn't want to watch that "little kid shit"

Penny is totally on horror story duty. When everyone is all set up and comfy under the pillow fort that's built (He shrunk down or a reasonable size btw, but still in clown form) he tells a story with the light shining on him.

I'm imagining he does that thing like the clowns do in Killer Klowns from Outer Space, where he can make his shadow puppets really realistic. You know, because he can shapeshift. So it makes the story that much more creepy, but it would be impossible to look away.

Penny definitely pranked something. Water bowl above the fridge door so it spills on you when you open it. Hiding behind the shower curtain in the bathroom. Hot sauce on the popcorn. Anything he can do to get a laugh.

Mans is totally confused when the "girlier" parts of the sleepover kick in. Like why the fuck is everyone singing along to Britney Spears, Beyonce and The Killers (Yes this is an early 2000's sleepover, what are you gonna do about it?)

You ask to paint his nails, and he's not gonna say no. But he's certainly not gonna make it easy. Probably makes everyone play a game of truth or dare. Anyone who actually goes through with a dare gets to paint one of his fingernails.

If he's in a bad mood, he'll totally just wake everyone up with an air horn or some shit in the middle of the night. He would be bored if everyone slept but him.

But if he's in a good mood, he just watches everyone sleep. Probably has the Tv still silently playing in the background. If he trusts these people enough to be at a sleepover with them, somewhere deep down he cares. Penny would love to have human connection, he just doesn't think he's capable of receiving it.

Overall, Penny is a nightmare at sleepovers. But he's also the life of the party, and he's trying his best. It wouldn't be the same without him.

[go-to-the-mirror]

@a-mag-a-day

Before I get into the relisten: hot jon rights.

This is going to be another stream of consciousness ramble. Maybe I'll say something good, maybe I won't.

(The official transcript.)

CW for a little bit of paranoia inducing rambling about Alternates from TMC.

BREEKON That's right. Just wanted… to… to drop off a package.

The way Breekon speaks, all broken up. It's just so sad :(

BREEKON Dunno. ‘s not right on my own. Not right. No point in doing it on my own. Dunno what happens now. Thought I might kill you. Missed my chance. Thought I might just deliver something. So, here’s a coffin. In case you want… to join your friend.

It's sad about Breekon hours :( How are you supposed to mourn for a part of yourself? How are you supposed to heal when you're literally incomplete.

BREEKON Make me. [A whooshing noise starts to rise with Breekon’s words, but immediately ceases when the Archivist speaks] ARCHIVIST Stop. [Heavy static rises] BREEKON What’re you doing? BASIRA Jon, what are you doing? BREEKON What’re you— Stop it. Stop it! ARCHIVIST No. [Breekon winces in pain] BREEKON Enough! Stop looking at me! [Breekon lets out a final cry and flees, a door is hear distantly. Static diminishes]

HOT JON RIGHTS!!!! I love this part it's so cool!!! He's so cool.

We started in a plague. Not like the nasty crawlers, but like bringing any other doom.

Fun fact about me, when I learned about the bubonic plague in primary school I was terrified. Not really of getting sick, though I think it was part of it, but of a red cross painted on a door, a mark of death. I was scared of the certainty that if I was infected, I would die. And no one would try to help, for fear of their own demise.

Not really relevant, but there it is.

Two strangers rolling towards them, unstoppable and uncertain, wearing faces they would only half remember, bringing a fate they would beg their god to forget. They could not hate us any more than they might have hated the rock that falls on them from a crumbling cliff. They did not know us, but they knew what we might do to them, what we might bring them.

This! This is the fear of The Stranger that actually gets me. Not the clowns or the mannequins or whatever, I'm not actually that freaked out by those, and I have yet to find art of Nikola that would actually freak me out or scare me. It's this kind of stuff and the Strangers from WTNV. Standing, staring, they could be right behind you, they're not doing anything but they might, they might at any moment attack. They're unfamiliar and strange and you have to be on your guard because you don't know what to expect, but they don't do anything, they just wait, as your dread grows ever higher.

Horror like that makes me very paranoid. I have a page in my notebook of trying to convince myself that the Alternates from The Mandela Catalogue weren't real, and what I was most freaked out about with them was that they could be anywhere. They could be posing as your friends, they could be in the corner of your room, they could be a puppet show on TV, they could be right behind you.

Don't turn around.

He squeezed its first owner until they stopped, and dumped them in a river, and I stayed with the second until they didn’t know who they were any more than they knew what they were.

The Stranger is weird. <3

The winter in Russia was cold, and in the icy air the absence of our breath was clear for all to see.

I like imagining that, something subtly wrong, you don't even notice it until you do, and when you do, you can't stop noticing it.

I have never known hate before. I have never known loss. But now they are with me always, and I desire nothing but to share them with you.

Don't know what to say to this. Just... :(

BASIRA And don’t open the coffin. ARCHIVIST It is addressed to me… … Yes, alright. You’re right.

I like his sense of humour. It's similar to mine sometimes.

Anyway! This is over! I only said a couple things of worth, but I hope you enjoyed the look into my mind regardless!

[thelostpassenger]

#LetPeopleEnjoyThings

I need to spend a little bit of time here ranting because my best friend / partner just recently reminded me of something that I have pretty much always known (for my dad even instilled it in me from a young age, trying to make me feel terrible for liking Goosebumps even!) but that has just really been having me in my feelings lately: people who shame others and suggest that there is something psychologically wrong with them for liking horror, especially ultraviolent and incredibly gory horror such as the Saw franchise, the Terrifier franchise, the Hatchet franchise, etc.

Here is the thing. I am one of those people. I have been since I was like 13 or 14 years old, and guess what else? I am not a bad person. I am a pacifist. I abhor violence. I hate guns, and it breaks my heart whenever I hear of someone having been murdered, the victim of a hate crime, etc. I am a total pacifist. I can't even bring myself to harm an insect!

With that being said, however, do I enjoy a good, creative, drawn out kill in a horror film? I mean, don't get me wrong; I love me a good ghost/paranormal story as well (The Others, The Haunting in Connecticut, 1408, etc.), but I really do love me some gore, and I am done feeling guilty about it.

There's nothing wrong with me. It's entertainment. Art the Clown isn't real. He's real enough in my imagination, but he isn't actually real. I can laugh at his antics and be thrilled by his creative kills without being a bad person... because I know it isn't real. Is there something wrong with me for sometimes enjoying watching suffering and pain involving fictional characters? Perhaps, but even if there is, I am done feeling bad about it. I am who I am, and deep in my heart, despite what my BPD is constantly trying to convince me of, I know that I am a good person, and this is an interest that isn't hurting anybody. It's also worth nothing that even though I probably would say that horror is overall my favorite genre (I am a spooky boy, okay? but I am Jack Skellington spooky!), I also am passionate about fairy tales, Barbie, Disney and Marvel heroes and villains, sci-fi, etc. I am a very complex person with seemingly contradictory but actually quite harmonious (at least to myself) interests and hobbies. If you are someone who passes negative judgment onto me because some of those interests are extremely gory and violent in nature, then you're no better than the conservative Karens trying to get their school boards to ban books. Just stop it. Let people enjoy things. I mean, if you absolutely HAVE to be judgmental about SOMETHING, then maybe at least develop some empathy and understand that maybe some of us who love horror and the macabre and blood and gore and death are using entertainment to heal from childhood trauma. Like Stephen King once said, "We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones." I will say it again. Let people enjoy things.

[clementine-writes-things]

Get To Know Me

General Things to know!

I have autism (ASD)

I struggle with social/emotional communication

ADHD

Shey/They pronouns (they preferred)

AFAB

Non-binary

Feminine

Brown eyes

Strawberry blonde <3

Lots of freckles!

19 (as of typing this)

Queer

Pisces ♓ (Pisces in sun, Leo in moon, Aries rising)

Special Interests:

Resident Evil

Assassins Creed

Fallout

The Walking Dead

Gotham

Stranger Things

DC universe

Harry Potter

Pokemon

Tarot cards

Nature

The 80's and 50's

TLOTR

Hobbit

The Backrooms

Analogue Horror

Five Nights at Freddy's

My Little Pony (pinkie pie is my spirit animal)

Writing/reading

Lana Del Rey

Poetry

Junji Ito

American horror story

The Office

Horror movies/shows/books

Banned books (screw our government for banning books)

Plenty more things I might be spacing on

My Aesthetics I Like:

Cottage core/ fairy core/ americana (in a non-patriotic way lol I just love 50's vibez)/kidcore (love bright colors yippee!)/dressing up like a homeless person core :D /weirdcore

Random Facts About Me:

I have coulrophobia (fear of clowns)

I also have a very specific fear that I cannot find a definitive explanation of. I get extremely uneasy and unsettled in points between two places (think the backrooms). Basically liminal spaces terrify me. But, oddly enough, I'm fascinated with them.

I forage for wild food/plants/herbs/etc.

I will always and forever be obsessed with the Riddler. Always.

I listen to music a lot. Not just as a hobby, it genuinely helps me think. I listen to music when I write a lot and use specific songs to help write what I have an idea of. I listen to those songs on loop. If you have noticed how I always list the music I listen to, then you will know what I mean lol. But basically, music helps me connect things.

I self-insert a lot into my writings. Sometimes I will make the reader autistic/obsessed with music/etc.

I pride myself on writing things that are fun and entertaining, but also keeping it realistic. I write awkward conversations, I write people mispronouncing words, I write realistic scenarios (unless its something thats hard to make realistic like superpowers ykwim) because I find that not a lot of people do that. When people write they exaggerate and make it over the top and appeal to one specific audience (especially smut). But I want to write as if the scenario I am writing actually happened. I want to write a whole paragraph about how this person says hello. I want to write an entire paragraph about how y/n thinks coffee tastes. YKWIM? I love details and realistic writing.

I'm always open to making friends! DM me if you would like! <3

Gifs To Match My Aesthetic:

[lannisterdaddyissues]

For the otp ask thing

3, 9, 16 and 31 with slimav :)

AHHHHHH SLIMAV MY BELOVED YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW VALIDATING IT WAS TO RECEIVE THIS ASK BESTIE THANK UUUUU 🥹🙏🧎‍♀️

anyway im. im so sorry this is 2 months late things got out of hand but here i am delivering the slimav goodies now <3

3. Who hogs the cover / Who loves to cuddle? who hogs the cover: oh sli 100%. he runs hot so he really doesn’t even need them, and instead of using them to keep warm they just end up in a tangled heap on the floor next to him LOL. as a result mav usually ends up sticking to him like glue at some point in the middle of the night to soak up his body heat bc even if he was aware enough to steal back the blanket in the middle of the night, he would never win against sli’s 6’5” ass 😔 who loves to cuddle: um both of them next question. have u SEEN them they are literally the teddy bearest of all teddy bears. thank u for an actually serious answer tho they both love to cuddle!!! 🥹 they just have one of those perfect size differences where it doesn’t make sense NOT to cuddle when they fit perfectly together yknow… they take up less space that way and they get to cuddle so its a win-win! 🥺 they’re also both super tactile bc mav is most definitely touch starved and sli is obv very touchy feely with his friends, like him hugging ice and giving him a friendly wiggle at the graduation lives rent free in my head forever that shit was so FUCKING cute ok

9. Who makes the coffee (or tea)? mav! he’s an early bird, there’s almost always a full cup already waiting for sli by the time he makes it to the kitchen because he takes so long in the bathroom in the mornings (no he’s not shitting 💀 he just has to shower and shave because mans grows hair like no tomorrow and he stinks)

funnily enough, mav actually never drank coffee before coming to topgun, but now that he is constantly plagued by the horrors a cup of coffee does wonders for him throughout the day. however he is not allowed to have more than one cup per day or there will be consequences per the wrath of one iceman kazansky

16. Who is scared of thunderstorms? i don’t think either of them are scared of thunderstorms per se, but sometimes when mav dreams about hop 31 the nightmares fuck him up pretty bad… he’s flown through a lot worse though.

also i personally think the fandom hc that mav is afraid of ghosts is infinitely funnier bc he would be so ridiculous about it 😭 (also slider is afraid of clowns you can’t change my mind on this)

31. Who is more affectionate? ice: you guys its not a competition slider & mav, aggressively cuddling on the couch: YES IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!!

but if id have to say its gonna be slider bc that man is such a fucking teddy bear he has no shame or self-consciousness when it comes to being a sucker for mav both in public and in private meanwhile mav is more shy and reserved so hes most affectionate in private :’)

[railingsofsorrow]

𝙾𝙲𝚃. 20𝚝𝚑; 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖘.

summary: iris's letter.

pairing: spencer reid x oc!iris valentia

w.c: 734

warnings/content: fluff; clown slander (they're evil); mentions of headaches.

navi

masterpost

series masterlist

whoever wants to be tagged for this fic, fill this out or dm me.

[letter 1] [letter 2] [letter 3] [letter 4] [letter 5] [letter 6] [letter 7] [letter 8] [letter 9]

October 20th.

Dear, Spencer.

I already like your friend. Send her another clingy hug. Those are the best kind of hugs.

American Horror Story is a horror TV show. It's very popular nowadays. I didn't watch it out of my own free will though, my friend threatened me. The stories are interesting but it's not my kind of genre. There's a whole season in which a clown roams around murdering people. Can you see why I'm not into it?

I have been teaching at Norfolk State University for about three years now and there hasn't been any kind of commemoration on the 27th of this month. Speaking of which, Fabian, the student that came to see me at my lab, hasn't been to class since that day. I am a bit concerned, to be honest.

Now, enough of my paranoia, I forgot to ask you something these past few days, are your headaches any better? I remember you telling me you resorted to a consult but you didn't mention it anymore. I was worried.

I am relieved, really. Streets safe from crazy clowns, yay!

Oh and since we're talking about this... Do you fear anything? Rational fear or not.

Of course you made it up, I see you have a terrific sense of humor, uh?

I don't doubt you're a great godfather, Doc. Henry must be very spoiled, and reasonably so. He seems like an amazing kid.

I would love to see those magic tricks, let's see if you can make me believe in magic again.

There's no need to thank me, I'm here if you ever need me.

Yes, the cupcakes tasted like heaven, especially because I stole them. No sarcasm intended, they really did taste good. Maybe I'll send you my mom's recipe so you can bake them and deliver them to my place.

Good week to you, Doc. Be careful while you're chasing serial killers. Sleep well and be safe.

And Spencer? I love your "<>3" (That means a heart, right?)

<3

Love,

Iris.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets ; @chayceschultz ; @cultish-corner

[black-phone-headcanons]

Funny little incorrect quotes based off of actual conversations between me and my friends.

2. The electric boogaloo.

Finney, who just dislocated his knee and popped it back into place with little to no fanfare over doing such: okay so back to what I was saying-

Billy, who just witnessed said thing happen: WHAT THE FUCK-

—

Griffin, randomly: day by day, I yearn to snap that twinks neck.

Finney: which one?

Griffin, looking Finney dead in the eyes, after watching Finney horrifically fail to pick up any hints that Robin was throwing down: you.

Finney, confused, concerned and feeling threatened: I’m just- I’m gonna go yeah-

—

Finney: okay so if time travel was a thing, would it be morally good or horrific to bring someone back from the dead? Asking for a friend.

Bruce: depends how they died.

Robin: depends on the person.

Billy: depends on what the reason would be for bringing them back too.

Vance: dude hell no to all of that it’s not a good idea, haven’t any single one of you knuckleheads seen a horror movie? That shit is one waiting to happen.

Griffin: … I say we kill Vance and bring him back and figure it out from there.

—

Finney, confirmed science kid 1: all I’m saying is-

Griffin, science kid 2: no no, I get what you’re saying but hear me out-

Billy, not a science kid, but has been listening to them explain the semantics of making a pipe bomb for the past thirty eight minutes: have you ever considered not making one?

Griffin:

Finney:

Finney: so anyway-

—

Bruce, walking into Vance’s room, covered in soot: so you know what napalm is right?

Vance, not paying attention: mhm

Bruce: yeah, turns out, so does Finney.

—

Billy: I uh… I need uh…

Robin: what? What do you need?

Billy: I need a job thingy

Robin:

Robin: what?

Griffin: you need a job?

Billy: no I need a job thingy.

Finney: he means he needs to apply to one but he needs one of those resume thingy-majigs to apply.

Griffin:

Griffin: do you-

Griffin: do you mean a fucking application?!?

—

Billy: you know.., sometimes I look up at the sky and I ask myself what I ever did to have deserved this.

Griffin, snapping a photo of Billy’s face, which was painted over with clown makeup while he was passed out: you existed. That’s enough of a reason.

[everyeyeismine]

Statement of Wick the spider, regarding a brush with death and a clown during the autumn of 2020. Statement documented directly from subject on December 5th, 2022 by Jonathan Sims. Statement begins.

I already lived in fear. The past year of my life had been one long nightmare, waking up far too often to a glowing red eye leering down at me accompanied by a sharp toothed grin. Those claws always so close to my face... What if one night I didn’t ever wake up again? What if one night those claws finally sunk into my eyes like they so clearly wanted to do? It’s not like she was ever subtle about how much she loved to kill people. She wasn’t ever subtle about wanting to kill me someday too.

Somehow I’d set that fear aside long enough for an act of kindness when my tormentor found herself at the mercy of strange magic. Nothing lasts forever, and her violent reaction upon the magic wearing off had left me petrified at the thought of being home alone- I didn’t have a roommate back then. I’d tried to avoid it, tried to stay with friends as long as they’d let me, but I couldn’t stay away, could I?

Of course not, it was my home.

Every little noise was the sharp rap of claws on hardwood. The swish of a long tail in the periphery of my vision. Was that a giggle? No.. I was hearing things. It was the TV, it was my pet beetles squeaking against their tank. I’m rational. I’m not some victim in one of my favorite horror movies. No matter how many little quizzes say I’d be the one to die first. I’m not afraid....

... I was very afraid.

For days I was on edge, jumping at every little sound that might indicate the impending attack I’d been dreading. I was nothing but a tiny helpless deer. Wide-eyed and waiting for the truck I couldn’t see to mow me down.

One night I finally let my guard down, which is of course when the truck finally came crashing back into my life. I was alone at night, fixing a drink, when I saw the red light. I spent so long rationalizing things away that I didn’t think much of it. Just a power light, I told myself as I looked over my shoulder to find the source.

There were no lights behind me and when I turned my head again, the light was pressed right against the glass. The same pale doll-like face of my every waking nightmare. The same fanged grin. The truck was barreling toward me then. Metaphorically. Literally it was already there a couple feet away. I couldn’t let myself be the deer in the headlights. I just couldn’t...

I ran. I ran as fast as I could but I can’t outrun magic. I’ll never be fast or strong enough to outrun magic no matter how much I try. I’ll always be weak and fragile and useless to those I care about. The clawed hand that sprung forth from the floor grabbed my leg, knocking me to the floor easily as more clawed hands stretched out, grasping at my kicking and flailing limbs. I couldn’t fight back against magic either.

She had me then. She was furious. She was questioning me over my kindness and getting angrier and angrier with each answer I gave. I couldn’t even be interrogated correctly. Claws dug hard into my limbs, my throat, my head. I couldn’t move. With every enunciated word I could feel them tighten just a little harder, threatening to crush me like the weak little bug I am. I started crying and it only made her angrier. I yelled something back at her. For a brief moment it looked like I said the right thing. Right up until the claws tensed back up. I could feel the pressure, the sting of their points. I felt like I could barely breathe. I knew I was going to die here, scared and alone and fragile and defenseless. I saw another clawed hand raise up into the air. I knew this was it. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, thinking it some small mercy if I couldn’t see the death blow coming. I could practically hear the whistle of the claws through air as the strike came. I heard the splitting crunch as it made contact... With the wood floor. A part of me felt a fleeting hope that someone had shown up to my rescue, but there was nobody there. It was still just me alone with that hateful thing. I didn’t make a sound, there was nothing I could say that would make this situation any more survivable and I was frozen, terrified. Deer in the headlights. Weak and defenseless.

Those claws dug deep channels into my floor as the monster seemed to be changing her mind about something. The many hands quivered, digging those pointed clawtips in ever harder. She’d obviously just wanted to scare me and delighted in the reaction. My world shifted on its axis as she suddenly hauled me up and slammed me against the wall. I heard a crunch and I couldn’t tell how much was my own carapace and how much was the glass frames I’d just been thrown into. I could feel the shards of glass digging their sharp points into my head and back. It all hurt so so much.

She drew back her hand again and I knew that was going to be it for sure this time. I think. Not that I felt like I could think. My head was spinning so much at that point it’s a miracle I didn’t pass out. Just as she was about to deal the killing blow, she stopped again and just dropped me and disappeared. Maybe she got what she wanted. A terrified sobbing bleeding mess.

I still have to see her every day. Some of my closest friends like her. Are friends with her. Trust her even. But any time I see them talking to her all I can think about are the times she’s almost killed me... Almost killed my other friends... And how soon she’d kill me given another chance.