#i wrote all of this so late at night

[write-to-the-stars]

exerts about each of my main characters from chapter one!

lydia flores

"Long curls cascaded down the girl’s back, and her bangs sat right above her eyebrows. Her eyes were highlighted by the smokey eyeliner she always wore, and the bright glitter in the inner corner of her eye. Lydia Flores was never seen in public without makeup, it was just part of who she was. With eyes as dark as the night sky and twice as intimidating, I had never gotten the impression that she liked me very much. To her,  I was just always there."

"The sun was starting to shine through the large window, and directly into my eyes. It made Lydia’s hair shine like a statue of obsidian. She was gorgeous, and she knew it. Her whole aura radiated with confidence, her tight white baby tee and green cargo pants made her look effortlessly good. Everything about her was a sort of messy perfection, and she treated her whole existence as a ‘fuck you’ to the world."

parker anderson

"Scurrying off to get someone’s order, I saw a boy with light brown, almost blond, curls that perfectly suited his slightly tanned skin. He looked like any other boy, except for his golden eyes. They looked like two little perfect rays of sunlight, yet he was sitting there all alone. He was also in a window booth, gazing out at the crows and the light reflecting off of those brilliant eyes. He really stood out against the blinding white wall, and the crimson seats of the booth he was in seemed to swallow him whole. There was a rather somber atmosphere to him."

charlie medina

"Charlie smiled, tilting his head slightly to the right. He had similar hair to Lydia’s, a mess of dark brown curls. But, he never let his hair grow past his ears, and his bangs never covered his chestnut eyes. 

He was paler than Lydia, but still had that glowing brown skin that all of the girls envied. He didn’t even own face wash, yet his skin was as clear as a summer day."

elliot pierson

"Elliot piped up once again, looking up from his phone.

“It’s like you don’t even love us, Marigold.” 

I had never truly believed that Elliot Pierson liked me, it was as if every little thing I did annoyed him. His green eyes bore into me, and I stared right back at him. "

val smith

“You can all fuck off, get some money from Val or something.” Charlie frowned as I said this, his eyes widening. “Nuh uh, you don’t get anything from me. Don’t even give me that look, I’m not using my discount for your food.”

[you-me-we-04]

Here’s my (very dumb) pitch for Mamma Mia 3, it's Harry's wedding there is just one small very very tiny issue no one can work out who Harry’s marrying and at this point, they just feel weird asking. So much like the first film, three men are running around a greek island while Sophie, Sky, Cher, Tanya, Rosie, Bill, and Sam try to work out their connection to the plot, I mean their relationship with Harry. So let us meet the potential Grooms: 

First up we have Elijah Thatcher played by Taron Egerton, at first, he seems the most likely to be the groom despite the age gap since he seems very close and connected to the wedding and is really stressed out about the wedding. However, we later find out the reason he is so stressed about this wedding is that he is the stressed-out wedding planner, and let's just say Harry’s Groom is a bit of a bridezilla

Then we have Peter Beckett played by Hugh Laurie an American lawyer who is very close to Harry, he also knows a lot about the other dads and Sophie, and he also has the habit of flirting with Harry, in truth while he and Harry did have a fling back in the day, they are now simply best friends and he’s the best man. The reason he flirts with Harry is that he enjoys getting a reaction out of Harry's actual partner. 

This actual partner is Nathaniel Hawthorn played by Hugh Grant a music professor at Cornell, they push each other buttons but at the end of the day, they still love each other. At the start of the film, they think he is the wedding planner since he seemed a bit too into the table setting. But he actually just enjoys getting a rise out of Elijah, who at this point is considering a career change.  Hijinks, misunderstandings, and ABBA take place before the reveal but in the end, the reveal is simple with Nathanial asking if Sophie would walk down the aisle with him, since he's kinda either step-dad 1 or dad 4 plus he knows it will mean the world to Harry, she agrees they hug and she welcomes her new dad to the family.

We end the film with their wedding it's big, it’s fun, and it goes perfectly much to the joy of Elijah's mental health, Peter gets a killer best man speech that ends in him and Nathaniel hugging it out. Just as the night is coming to an end, all seems to be going well Bill finds his boat has been stolen by none other than newlyweds. Harry yells something about being spontaneous, while Nathaniel yells about going on the honeymoon of their dreams. As they sail off into the sunset.

We close with Elijah and Bill sharing a drink and rethinking the life choices that got them here. We then find out Cher knew who the groom was the whole time and just found the whole thing very funny hence why she told no one.

[buckingham-ashtray]

The Invisible Clubber........................ SMILING. CAN'T STOP SMILING. LIFE SO HAPPY. LOVE. LOVE LIFE. BEAT GETTING FASTER. CAN'T STOP SMILING. NOW JUST HARMONY. NO BEAT. MELODY. STOP MOVING. SMILE TO THE SKY. ALL STANDING STILL. BEAUTIFUL. NEVER BEEN SUCH HARMONY IN ALL HISTORY. WANT TO KISS EVERYONE. THEY WANT TO KISS ME. BREATHE IN. BREATHE OUT.................

Sebastian's Story.......... Sometimes I wonder what it'll be like to die. I'll find myself drifting off, staring at something, anything and I'll stop blinking. I feel my whole body slowing down... My heartbeat... And I wonder how long it'll be broken

*Sorry that I couldn't find the source where I got this from and have no idea when this was released. If anyone has the link I will be very glad to insert it!

[krismatic]

the revue starlight and in stars and time parallels and analysis post

aka me rambling about how much I love both pieces of media cause I just finished ISAT for the first time today

While playing it I could not help but notice similarities between it and revue starlight, so here we go

heavy spoilers for both

also note that I haven’t like. fully 100% isat yet so I may be missing some things! don’t tell me them! I want to find them out for myself!

The Stage

Revstar’s whole thing is about theatre. That’s clear in the first 5 minutes of the show. But deeper than that, Revue Starlight itself is Starlight, the play within the story. Each character is Flora, Claire, the Tower, one of the Goddesses, all meeting on the night of the star festival. They all have a role to play— and deviating from it is terrifying. They have been the same characters, the same people, for so long, that when Hikari appears and upsets the order of everything, the entire narrative of the play is destroyed and reborn anew. The ending is changed.

What was once an ending of despair, where Flora and Claire were destined to part because of their longing for their wish, becomes an ending of love. Where they choose each other rather than the stars high above.

What was once a clear line of victory, Nana winning the Revues, annihilating everyone in her path, and being granted her eternal wish, becomes messy. She cannot win against Hikari. She cannot win against Karen. She never will. They’ve deviated too much from the script, and then her reenactment is over. Her wish can no longer be granted.

Flora and Claire’s promise to meet again is the same as Karen and Hikari’s, a promise that is forgotten. Was forgotten and unfulfilled for years and years, as the loops continued, until Hikari herself— with the power of a Giraffe, of course, to end those boring reenactments— intervened.

Siffrin forgot their wish for a long time, as well.

In Stars and Time is different— theatre isn’t really brought up until the library, where it’s mentioned that Siffrin enjoys watching plays. And over time, to him, the loops become one. He is an actor performing his lines, just as his friends are, and there can be no deviating from the script. Any scene that goes wrong must be erased and redone. Over and over. Say the line, why aren’t they acting properly, Act I, Scene I, Siffrin wakes up, it all repeats over and over. Encore.

Loop mentions, as time goes on, that Siffrin has become both a director and an actor.

Just like Nana. The director of her own reenactments of Starlight. She’s seen it all before, over and over, and she still loves it just as dearly. Loves her friends just as dearly. Everyone is safe acting out the roles she created for them. She will always win the Revues, and everyone will always perform Starlight together, on repeat.

The two of them both started as actors in their stories. But, they memorized their lines well, and then directed the others to perform the way they wanted them to. Perfectly.

When the characters start to deviate from their roles, when you don’t know how they will act anymore, when you don’t know how to act… what do you do?

You keep going until you can restart it from the beginning, of course. Next time, you can fix everything that went wrong.

There will always be a next time. Right?

Stars

Stars are so important. They symbolize wishes. Forgotten promises. Despair. Blinding light. Power.

In Revue Starlight, those two wish-granting red stars are blinding. The wishes they grant are truly unattainable. And if you keep longing for them, you’ll go blind. If you keep continuing your reenactments of the same year over and over and over, you’ll become blind to everything else around you. All you can do is continue climbing the tower, to reach those stars you so desperately long for. It’s unending. You will never reach them.

With isat, a red star appears— the first splash of colour— when Siffrin is trying to remember their home for the first time, with the King. They fight to remember, but that blinding red star… it’s too much. It’s all too much.

But, stars are unfeeling. They don’t have a will, so why do they have so much power?

I’m sure I could connect this all to Loop in some way but I uh. still do not get their whole deal. I think I missed a lot of their dialogue unfortunately when playing so I gotta do a new game to get it all :(

They definitely care for Siffrin a lot, that’s for sure.

Time

Yayyyy timeloops!!! They’re trapped in a timeloop of their own making! They’re too afraid to leave!!!

Nana and Siffrin both created these loops. To act out their favourite play, with their beloved friends, forever and ever and ever and ever and

The loops come from a place of love and severe abandonment issues but that’s just what being in late teens/early twenties is like you know. sometimes you just start a timeloop out of love!!

It’s selfish. It’s for the sake of protecting them from the future, from their inevitable parting.

With Nana, we unfortunately don’t get to learn too much about how she changed over the course of the timeloops. She started out much more withdrawn, and hesitant to call her friends her friends, but… of course, once the loops begin, she becomes confident. Always helping others with their problems. She knows they will always love her as long she stays the same. Fun fact! The only time we ever see the “original” Nana is in flashbacks in episode 7 and the prologue manga! That’s it! She’s been irreparably changed and she cannot go back!

Of course, if her friends found out they probably wouldn’t like her anymore. They’d probably abandon her. Well, it’s not like they’re not going to ever find out! It’ll all restart, even if they did.

I feel like Siffrin just. Cannot relax. Ever. Nana becomes relaxed in her eternity, but Siffrin is always on edge. Afraid to mess up their lines. Afraid they will find out. Eventually, they simply don’t care anymore, cause they can loop back and fix it all, but still… that anxiety is always present.

Nana’s stakes are much lower than saving the entire country and all the people that have been frozen in time, compared to Siffrin, so that makes sense

An Eternal Wish

They got what they wished for. To stay with their friends. For eternity. To never part, to never be left behind, to never forget ever again, to never be forgotten ever again.

But their wish was not what they wanted. Or maybe it was, in some way. Still. It was not what they needed.

Their friends will always stay the same. Their friends will never do anything more with their lives. They will always stay with you. As they are. They won’t grow old, they won’t learn, they won’t choose anything you don’t want them to, they will always love you.

They really aren’t alive, at that point. They truly are just actors.

But they still matter. They matter!!!

When the script deviates, the play ends, everything is burned into ashes, they are reborn into themselves again, they still choose you!!

They still love you!! It isn’t because of your eternity, your direction, your acting, nothing! It’s because it’s you!

And you’ve protected them for so long, in your own twisted selfish yet self-destructing way, yes, but you still protected them the only way you knew how.

You love them. And they love you.

And it’s terrifying.

They want to destroy your wish.

That wish you’ve held onto for all these years.

To rewrite the ending. So that everyone can be saved.

Even you.

And that’s all you needed, in the end.

You will inevitably part in the future, but for now… you can allow yourself to love, and be loved. To open up. To truly listen, to see how your friends have changed, how they will continue to change. And even when they all go off on their own paths, you will still love them. And they will still love you.

They see you, now. Not the character you’ve been acting as for so long.

okayyy that’s all for now! These are just my thoughts as I’ve just finished the game. I’m already planning to do a second playthrough so. yeah. I’ll probably change some of my opinions and interpretations of events when I get there!

game was good. 10/10 👍

revue starlight continues to remain in my mind forever when interacting with all media

[joyfullyacat]

Unordinarily Foolish

haha, don't hurt me, not beta'd it's another hurt no comfort - but this time no one dies! woo!! inspired by @gniteruirui 's animatic here (except then it spiraled way from that and im a little sorry-)

CW: so much self loathing, general heartbreak, pining when your heart wars with your brain, no happy ending word count: 2.7k

-

You’ve hit rock bottom it felt like.

What respect did you have for yourself any more?

There’s been a pain, irate and grating on the nerves right in your sternum lately but it was better than feeling numb.

At least, you think it is.

You go years single without affection, you had your time to date and you took time away from the pool, you got your licks from it, you thought you learned all the lessons. 

Now look at you.

Unsteadily, your hands follow the curves and grooves of the toys you clean with wipes. Under here, around there, get into that crevice. Your thoughts travel and your eyes wander to the subject of those thoughts.

Sun is cackling with giggly kids hanging off every limb, clutching about his legs and wrapped about his arms. He’s carefree and radiant, in his element, there seems not to be a care in the world with him… And maybe that was what had you ensnared. You stare at the panel in the back of his neck that his jointed neck comes out of. A distinctly inhuman appearance to his otherwise human personality.

Just maybe, this is what kept you away. You were an ordinary fool with a silly heart but your brain was logical… Cruel but logical.

You were an ordinary fool with not so ordinary lessons to learn. Like how bad of an idea it is to be in love with something - someone incapable of feeling as you do with temperamental chemicals and functionalities that dictate every part of you from head to toe. Who won’t share the experiences of life with you like an ordinary couple.

What you had was not an ordinary love.

This was no ordinary circumstance.

When did you take his exuberant nature for something more than what it was? When did his crushing hugs of friendly greeting become something that stole your breath away - more than just physically. The nicknames too, the sunshines, dewdrops, and daydreams, every single one of them stuck into you and hid between your ribs, becoming new butterflies that’d flutter in your stomach haplessly against your will.

You have enough respect for him to not dump this onto him or his lunar counterpart, Moon. 

Oh yes, a counterpart. A double decker to your psyche, really.

To be in love with not one but two distinct personalities and individuals that weren’t even human. Who likely could not grasp the concept of love, it wasn’t something to be easily defined like happiness or sadness, it was muddled by every emotion and bolstered by them similarly.

This wasn’t including the fact that you were fleeting in their very, potentially eternal, lives.

This also wasn’t including the fact that at any moment, they could be torn in twain and scrapped against your wants to make new animatronics, better ones, new personalities. They wouldn’t remember you - even if they kept the same face.

It already happened once, after Sun and Moon were split into their own bodies.

Most of their memories outside of the employee data bank were lost. You were pretty much another face in the crowd to them.

You were happy to befriend them again - at the time that’s what they were. Friends.

Because denial is not just a river in Egypt and you were hopelessly flowing down it back then, oh it’s just a crush. Merely infatuation! They were new, exciting, interesting and human enough, but you know now.

No, you were utterly endeared and helpless to how your heart speeds up around them.

Well over a year later.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Moon approaching, slinking in the designated shadowy corners you created with well placed large plushies and decorative hangings.

The animatronic lifts a finger, pointing to what you’re doing unknowingly. “I think that toy is clean enough…” He speaks in his typical low grumble, a permanent growl to his voice that rattles in his chest. Something that comforted you in your lowest moments when he’d hug you on days of stress.

His words bring you back to the moment, looking from him then over to the poor anthropomorphic turtle figurine with colored bandana in your hand.

You had stripped some of the color from it. Faded smears of green staining the little white rag.

“Ah, yeah. It is…” You cough, setting the toy in with the others and picking up a sort of tubby looking unicorn toy with cheap white hair and a set of sparkles on its hind quarter.

“You’ve been spacy lately.”

Ah, he was always the more confrontational of the two. A trait you admired and feared. You thought you were confrontational once upon a time, then you met him. Then you learned how ham-fisted your emotions could be to you. Making you clam up entirely.

Both were observant, eventually a comment would be made on your actions lately, your behaviors. Whatever vitals they’ve been able to read from you.

Sun was far more subtle, much more rounded. Acting sort of as a bumper to your feelings with careful gestures and honeyed words that served to entrap you further, much to his unknowing warmth. Leaving you little sticky notes of well wishes that you’d save and so on.

You felt… Dirty, really. Dirty about it all. Guilty may be more apt. Taking their gifts of friendliness for your own selfish needs. To fuel fantasies of your own design.

A low timbre breaks you from your thoughts, “Starbright?”

Right. He’s still there.

Moon brought himself closer, even in that moment of thought. Just an arm’s length away, well for him anyway. You’d have to lean forward.

“Things have been… Going on is all, Moon. Sorry about that, I’ll pay for a replacement toy.” The funny turtle guys are usually stocked in toy aisles, it’d be easy to pick one up the next time you’re going out for the easiest and cheapest premade meals because you haven’t been able to bring yourself to cook properly otherwise lately.

He doesn’t look convinced, looking past you to something just over your head, probably over to Sun if you had any guess. The two had a way of communicating without necessarily having to be in speaking range of one another.

Likely some technological link.

You watch as he nods once... Twice... Three times before suddenly decisions are made.

“...Come on, you’re taking your break early.” Is all he says before you’re swept up with an arm around your shoulders, promptly escorted to a doorway tucked behind one of the play structures with quite the tall baby gate that keeps wandering tikes from going into it.

Also known as the way to their personal room that wasn’t through that funny hook system that made them “float” to the balcony.

You squirm and writhe against his hold, trying to dig your heels into the carpeted area with all your might but he practically picks you up in your struggles. “Ho-Hold on now, I didn’t agree to this-!”

“Don’t care…” He draws out in a mocking sing-song. “Attendant’s orders, we care for children, this includes adults who act like children.”

Was this how you lost what shred of dignity you had left? Cornered to fess up by your coworker and crush? Could you dumb it down, play it off as if it were nothing? Make up a story about something in your personal life going on?

…Better question, did you want to?

You wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this, even if you wanted to do it with both of them present at the same time. No having to repeat yourself and becoming mortified twice over if there is only one band-aid to rip off, after all.

Though that question was answered for you with the reveal of Sun awaiting you up the stairs, hands on his hips and leaning forward, primed up and ready to chastise you for your mistreatment of yourself.

Quickly, you try to find a way out of this impromptu grilling on your being, “I know you did not leave the kids unsupervised.” You point out stiffly, gesturing to the balcony that the solar-themed animatronic likely scaled.

“You are correct, I set up their nap hour! We are both capable of it… Remember I was doing it alone for a time!” He’s chirpy in his jest but distinctly, you feel that smile he can’t necessarily help is more sarcastic in this moment.

“So that leaves you alone with us - ideally uninterrupted with plenty of time to figure out what is wrong with you.” Moon elaborates simply, resting his arms over your head and leaning his weight into you comfortably.

A common way he liked to make fun of his height over you. 

“Mhm! So tell us, sweet sunshine, what’s been eating at you?” Sun holds his hands out to you in invitation, flexing his fingers once.

You don’t hesitate to take his hands into your own two, staring right into his daylight-bright eyes that’d somehow shine more when he was excited you noticed. You hoped they’d stay like that. You don’t ever want to see that light dimmed.

With a deep breath, you decide to take the leap.

“...What would your guy’s responses be if I said I liked you?”

The way Moon goes tense, able to tell even with the rigid, barely padded metal resting against you, has you worried.

Sun twitches in your hold, almost as if wanting to pull away, “Well… It depends in what way you mean by that!”

The animatronic above you doesn’t reply.

Well, here goes nothing for you. Maybe you can ask to be transferred to a different area. Does Bonnie Bowl need any sort of supervision? Children are in every corner of this place, surely someone good with kids would be good in just about any place…

How hard do you play this up… Pouring your heart out would dramatically be for the best you figure.

A little tap to your temple makes you jolt and you can only wish to be able to look up and glare at the attendant who radiates smugness over your head.

“I want to experience life with you in the long run. I want to feel your hands in my hair and I want to be able to care for you similarly, maybe I’d pick up sewing or something to make sure your things fit, I don’t know. I wish to teach you what lies beyond these walls I want you - both… You and…” You point to Moon above you. “I don’t think I could ever choose and risk separation or division. I know there are differences and I'm sorry to dump this all out, it's unwanted and complicating and-” At some point, you start to cry, your frantic blinking had only kept the tears at bay for so long and you couldn’t bow your head to hide the waterworks.

So you stared at Sun who looked to you with, you think, eyes that weren’t remotely as bright as they once were. You caused that.

The seeming pity you felt from them, the awkward, stoney silence.

Your love for them was theirs to keep, your heart would never be your own you think, not for some time. They could do as they wished with it, it was the only blessing you could give them. For them to know they were loved in that way, even if for them, it does nothing.

“...I’m sorry.” You apologize once more after a few moments of the deafening quiet that you couldn’t bear any longer. “I didn’t want to say anything, I was trying to keep it under wraps hoping it’d go away but it didn’t even when I took that - stupid long break using up all my vacation and sick days in one go-”

“Wait, that was why you left for a month?” Moon speaks up, interrupting you swiftly and flicking your temple soon after. “You’re unbelievable. See Sun, this is what I mean. They’re a big child.” 

He’s so huffy about it you can see the silent tapping of his slippered foot against the ground… Actually no, you hear it now. The little bell jingles and his pants sound with the movement.

“Mmm, yes. Yes they are.” Sun confirms with a nod.

You huff out something that you think was supposed to be laughter, “You two are not making me feel any better about this.”

“Because you’ve chewed yourself out thoroughly I think! We had to get you smiling somehow.” Sun releases one of your hands to poke at your nose. “I say we did good.”

Your now free hand automatically went to rubbing at your eyes to forcefully clear the remaining wetness away, using your knuckles and making your vision scramble momentarily. 

“This… Doesn’t give me your answer though.” “Because I’m afraid we don’t have one, Starlet. You’ve dreams and ambitions - but we don’t share them… Especially when it sounds like this like is more of a love, isn’t it?”

Moon has you pinned and you can only let your shoulders lower slowly, forcing down that sticky feeling in your throat, the ball that wants to come out in a sob. 

They didn’t need to be so gentle about it. You wanted them to… Mock you. Do something that’d make you view them at least - something less than pleasant?

Something less than the sweet as peach nature of Sun and the toying black cat nature that Moon possessed, endearing even if sometimes you wanted to take him by the waist and shake him from side to side.

“...I’m sorry.” Is all you say, again.

You’re not sure what this means for you and your friendship with them. Do they view you as silly? Hopeless? A daydreamer with too lofty ideas? Potentially, too idealistic? Romanticizing what wasn’t there? 

“There is no need for an apology, really…” Sun soothes, hushing you when you went to apologize a third time with a press of his finger to your upper lip. “I think you knew our answer to begin with, somewhere in you, didn’t you?”

You did. The one your brain would tell you whenever your thoughts went down the rabbit hole of what-ifs and possibilities. 

After all, they were made with a purpose in mind. Artificial in design, they had their directive, and you were not part of it. They were in love with their duty, their charges, adoring the children they take care of and see grow with each visit. They were caretakers first and individuals second.

You want to find an end to this conversation, a solid conclusion, something of change, meaningful and positive and before you can broach the topic of how this should go on, the sound of a child crying echoes through the dying conversation, silencing it fully.

A part of you laughs deep down at the comical way the two attendants shoot-up like dogs catching the movement of a squirrel. Another part of you cries and laments at their presence leaving yours, the bubble thoroughly popped as arms drop from your head.

Not a moment of goodbye, not a note of continuing this later. They go over to the balcony.

“Oh ho ho! It seems we are up and shining already! Rise and shine from the clouds, who’s ready for snacks?! I say we have little apple bunnies!” Sun cries out with all his joyousness coming out in full force as he launches himself over the railing with a dive.

Moon only spares you a glance, giving you a simple two-finger salute with minimal words before his departure. “Go home.”

The moment he’s over that rail is the moment you feel the urge to keel over and curl up. You feel you screwed that over spectacularly.

This was never so painful, this was never such an agony. Never did feeling love make you feel like such a wretch of an individual. Like an utter bother.

But you go home as instructed. A quick text sent to your coworkers and a brief, phony explanation to the security guard stationed at the front how you sicked up in the bathrooms and wasn’t sure if it was contagious, and you’re out of there.

The rest of the day that’d serve as your shift, you spend staring blankly into nothingness while going about chores you neglected previously due to your shifts and emotional turmoil that left you unwilling to move once you got home.

Anything for normalcy.

Anything to not feel useless. 

Even got to cleaning your bedroom, sorting your messes and putting things where they belonged - briefly you feel accomplished.

You go into your prettily made bed at an hour that’d surely give you a sneer and a direct order to nap by Moon. The sun is kissing the horizon and the inky blackness of the sky, making way for heartwarming pinks that bleed to oranges and purples.

All you feel is cold however.

A meager handful of hours later and you wake up just a bit before your alarm is supposed to go off, to your phone chiming with a text.

…A text.

From your manager.

No email, nothing professional, no official slip of paper.

Hey, sorry to hear you aren’t feeling well, I hope it was just something bad you ate and not an actual issue since you don’t have sick days but, hey, you’ve been moved stations. Effective immediately and all that.

The arcade with DJ Music Man is pretty cool, you’ll do just fine there, you may have to learn some basic engineering and wire tampering though.

Your throat hurts from the wail that falls from you. Miserable and broken.

Desperately, your brain tugs at you. It tugs at your heart. That these tears aren’t needed, you’ve cried, this was for the best. You could heal from this, it wasn’t a break up. You still have your job, there are brightsides to this, that change was good.

All your heart could pound about was that you weren’t wanted anymore.

Unloveable. 

Foolish.

[bunnihearted]

🧸🧃⛈️

[melit0n]

EUCLID ANALYSIS.

Part one -> Title and meaning

Part two -> You're already here!

Part three -> Line by line analysis part two

Part four -> Musical/intrumental notes

Part five -> The Night in Sleep Token

Part six -> Conclusion

“Just run it back, give me five whole minutes” → The song itself is five minutes and 13 seconds long, but Vessel only starts singing these lyrics at the 13-second mark. As the listener, you give him five whole minutes to say what he’s gotta say, but he still asks for more time. I see it as a representation of humanity. A set lifetime to do and say so many things, to change in so many ways, but it never seems to be enough.

A realisation, a revelation almost, develops across this song; change is inevitable, and that’s okay, and that having a set lifetime, having five whole minutes, is entirely what makes people human. What makes humanity.

“Thick tar on the inside burning” → This is a vivid description that can symbolise depression. Tar is a very viscous liquid that causes physical damage (rashes, headaches etc.) by merely touching it, plus, it’s very easy to get stuck in it; to let yourself be consumed by it, like depression. It’s used in literature as a metaphor to represent the feeling of being weighed down or emotionally trapped, afterall.

It could also be in reference to the visualisers for the whole album, which ends in a black liquid pouring out of the album art creatures.

“I’ve got a ghost in the hallway grinning” → This is both a callback to ‘The Apparition’, and a symbol for the past. Ghosts are relics of the past; haunting places and people they can’t let go of because they don’t know how, which means the Ghost in the hallway grinning can either be about Sleep, the people in Vessel’s past, or about Vessel himself.

Grinning is typically associated with joy, however, in this context, it adds a much more ominous feeling to the line. It implies that The Ghost is mocking Vessel with his past, finding amusement in his suffering at recalling what he wants to leave behind.

“And a heavy head that won't stop turning” → This describes how Vessel is burdened by his past that just won't leave him alone. He’s constantly kept awake by memories that taunt him, keeping him in a state of emotional turbulence.

“If my fate is a bad collision” → Callback to Granite and its foreboding theme of car crashes. ‘Bad collision’ suggests a sense of inevitability and a negative outcome. An argument in a car that goes a little bit too far and ends badly. However, what’s interesting is the comparison of fate with collisions; it illustrates the feeling of Vessel being caught up in circumstances beyond his control. His past, present and future are controlled (by Sleep) and he can do absolutely nothing about it.

“And if my mind is an open highway” → This line flows perfectly with the previous lyric. In contrast to the presented idea of fate as a collision, this line portrays Vessel’s mind as a vast, open space symbolised by a highway. Highways are typically associated with freedom, movement, and endless possibilities, but, matched with the previous line, the freedom becomes terrifying because of the way Vessel has spent his known life following fate. It becomes predestination versus free will. Divinity versus humanity. Lore-wise, it creates a perfect representation of Vessel as a vessel; a human holding a God inside his body and having to deal with it.

“Give me the twilight two-way vision” → Yet again, lyrically, duality is brought back. Twilight is the transition zone between day and night and it symbolizes mystery and threshold between opposing states. The choice of twilight over sunset or dawn, for example, suggests a desire for a moment of transition, change, as opposed to the stark clarity of daylight or the complete darkness of night. Vessel does not want the past, daylight, but he does not want his present either (night).

Further, The term ‘two-way vision’ introduces the idea of seeing life from two different perspectives, which could be about Vessel’s past and present self, Vessel and his partner, or Vessel and Sleep. The concept of this dual vision implies the recognition of the coexistence of opposites. It could also be in reference to Higher’s “‘Cause I look for scarlet and you look for ultraviolet”.

“Give me one last ride on a sunset sky lane” → The phrase ‘one last ride’ implies a sense of finality or a farewell, which links to the theory that Euclid is a eulogy above all things. Vessel is asking for one last good thing before he leaves– changes– for good. A change between day and night is yet again brought up here; sunsets bring the night, which “comes down like Heaven”; it’s the last few minutes of time Vessel has to himself before he has to devote the Holy hours of the night to Sleep. The end of the day is a time often associated with reflection, and contemplation and is one of the transitions from day to night, which is also right before twilight.

“Call me when you get the chance” → Can either interpreted as a message from Vessel to his partner, to Sleep or vice versa. The echo-y effect placed on the lyric makes it feel almost like a voicemail as well.

“I can feel the walls around me closing in” → With this lyric, the previous line can now be interpreted as a plea for help. A ‘Please help me, but only if I’m not an inconvenience. I know we are not what we were, but I need your comfort again’.

Further, walls built up around people are typically used as symbolism for boundaries; metaphorical walls put up around a person to stop them from getting hurt. Vessels’ walls are collapsing in on him because he’s changing and learning how to trust again (which is good), but it scares him enough for him to try and go back to the past. Go back to the ghost in the hallway grinning. Overall, it creates a very claustrophobic and visceral image.

“Just running forwards, a life like wires” → Wires, robots and algorithms are referenced a multitude of times throughout the whole album, which this lyric carries on. Despite it all, the vessel is running through the complicated mess of wires that is life. To quote Genius; ‘the path taken has been inevitable. The wires will continue to carry the circuit forward, and instances of life are inevitable, similar to how some view life as being ‘written in the stars’’. Which means, again, fate and predestination are being referenced.

“As I see the past on an empty ceiling” → Vessel’s memories continue to haunt him, no matter how far he runs from them. However, Vessel is still running despite it all. He’s accepting the limited amount of time he has as well as that whatever has happened is in the past now.

Plus, an empty ceiling quite literally suggests moving out and moving on; the bare ceiling which doesn’t have all the familiar stains on it reflects what once was like a mirror for him.

[arcanusarchieves-if]

How would the ROs take care of a drunk MC in crushing stage🫣

Astoria would 100% be more concerned about MC’s well-being than anything else. Her main goal would be trying to get them back home/to bed as soon as possible so he’d try to ignore any flirty or silly remarks from MC and pretend to forget anything they said or did while drunk. She’d secretly remember every detail though and be a bit flustered lol. (She'd also try to conjure up some remedies or spells to help them sober up - or at least to make sure they're not too hungover in the morning).

Caspian would try to ensure MC's safety while also teasing them about their less than sober state. He's not too overwhelmed by it though - he went through a bit of a...rough patch...after his brother died so he's used to being around drunk people - especially drunk people that are into him. Still he'd try to charm/teasingly coax them into cooperating with his attempts to sober them up (or at the very least getting them back home/to their room). If MC ended up saying something embarrassing or revealing, he'd probably just wave it off as them being wasted - he'd definitely bring it up in the morning though (as a joke).

Solaine would act annoyed and impatient with MC’s drunkenness (lol), but would secretly worry about their safety. They’d use their magic to dispel any harmful effects of the alcohol, but not before snarkily mumbling under their breath about MC’s poor life choices. They’d try to get MC to their room as quickly as possible, avoiding any unwanted attention or trouble and if MC said something sweet or flattering, they’d pretend not to hear it or brush it off as nonsense - but they’d secretly feel flustered over it. They’d act like nothing happened the next day, but they’d (unintentionally) be more attentive and curious about MC’s feelings.

Maeve would be amused (albeit slightly annoyed that MC went out drinking without her) and entertained by MC’s drunken antics (whatever they might be). She wouldn't be as worried about getting MC home and would probably spend some time trying to get MC to admit all their secrets (or something equally embarrassing). If MC accidently revealed their feelings, she’d respond with a playful challenge or a flirtatious remark but follow it up by cutting them off and taking them home. She’d be the only one who'd bring it up bluntly the next day like, "Do you remember all that shit you said last night?"

Jasper, oh my sweet boy. He doesn't drink so he's already most likely uncomfortable (if they are out drinking as a group that is) and having MC drunkenly come onto him would just add to that. He'd try his best to get MC back home and ignore any drunken confessions or flirting but unlike everyone else he probably wouldn't be very successful. He'd eventually get Caspian and Maeve to help him get MC back safe. He wouldn't be able to decide if he thought MC actually meant the things they said or not and would spend the entire next day (possibly the entire next week) avoiding MC like the plague lol.

[thebiggestfuckgiven]

Ectoberweek 25: Will-o’-Wisps

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of death, of being buried alive, descriptions of gore, brief mention of vivisection, true crime-esque horror, and general spooky vibes

A/N: I really wanted to do a lil something for the spooky month and what better to write than something for the fandom i’ve been sickeningly hyperfixated on for the past four months. Actual prompt had a two-sentence prompt as well, and i went with both <3

- 💜 -

October 2004

The things everybody tells you about small towns- everyone knows each other, ni things big happens, every day is a slow day, and the biggest local teen hotspots are the walmart parking lot or the big chain pharmacy/corner store —are true. The thing that everyone knows about small towns except for the majority of the people living in said town is that their minds are as small as the local post office.

This is especially true of the teens of Casper High in Amity Park, Illinois.

Sam’s black combat boots stomped against the warm pavement as she ran for the next block. Her breathing was ragged, coming out in harsh puffs of air in the autumn cold. She had gotten an SOS text message from Tucker seconds before the last bell rung.

Normally, she didn’t take the Foley kid very serious. They didn’t know each other that well and they barely hung out save for the couple of school projects they’ve worked on together and those rare lunch hour occasions where he’d sit at her table uninvited. Usually to avoid Dash, Kwan and the rest of their jock entourage.

She stumbled to a stop at a crossroads borderline wheezing. Running was so not her forte. Maybe it was cruel of her, but Same fully intended to ignore his SOS. That is, until she saw Tweedledumb (Dash) and Tweedledumber (Kwan) shove a screaming Tucker into their run-down jeep and speed off.

Hence, why Same was ruining her sickly goth pallor by chasing after them.

She glanced to her left just in time to see the run-down jeep screech to a halt. Christ, the stabbing in her sides was killing her. Sue her for walking. The jeep wasn’t going anywhere anymore. She stumbled a few steps, feet burning, as she held a hand to her sides like that would help her.

Dash jumped out from the passenger side, Kwan following shortly after, from the driver’s side. They opened the back doors on each side, where Tucker was. They cornered him. Dash reached in and was soon pulling Tucker out by his feet. Sam could hear his scream now.

“C’mon, guys, please just leave me alone! Let me go, Dash!”

The Wonder Jocks laughed in response. Kwan slammed his door shut, confident that Dash had Tucker handled now that he was out of the car. Kwan rushed to the sidewalk to roughly grab Tucker’s free arm.

“Guys, this isn’t funny!”

Sam was halfway down the street now and she dreaded the idea of having to run again to keep those two muscle-headed idiots from beating the crap out of the geek that for some reason imprinted on her. Ugh, caring for people was overrated anyways. She could still walk away. Save herself the hassle. No one care about her in this stupid town anyways. So, why should she care?

She slowed to a stop. Her feet ached.

Dash and Kwan were dragging Tucker towards the street corner, which just confused Sam, amidst her inner turmoil. Why even drag Tucker all the way out to his own neighborhood? His house was literally a street away, and there wasn’t even a bare-bones playground here. So what—

“No, no! Don’t put me in there, Dash, Kwan, please! Just let me go, guys, it’s not funny!”

Sam felt a sharp chill run down her spine. Something heavy dropped in the pit of her stomach at the sudden realization of where, exactly, they were.

“Shit.”

She broke off into a sprint as fast as she could.

Shithsitshitshit.

Another thing about small towns is that they all have a well-kept secret. A dark past, usually. Sam found that she thrives on such darkness; on those unwanted and discarded things. As it turned out, Amity Park had a surprising amount of those. She made it her personal business to grow intimate with her town’s buried gutter.

The things she learned were both shocking and, for all her boasting, a little horrifying. Things that would be permanently burned into her retinas. Unseeable and unforgettable. So, she scolded herself for not realizing sooner where they were dragging Tucker to. She would’ve run a little faster, cared a little more, if she had.

She zoomed past the jeep and turned the corner so sharply she nearly fell flat on her face.

Tucker wasn’t screaming anymore, but there were tears streaming down his face as he stared in terror at the behemoth of a house towering over them.

In all its abandoned, festering glory: the infamous Fenton House. Even in bright daylight, the house was obscured in awkward elongated shadows, made worse by the house’s freaky, Frankenstein-esque structure. As if imitating a child’s building blocks tower, there were partial structures jutting out of the house’s main body. They creaked in the cold wind, threatening to snap off and crush any trespassers. At the very top, there was a round dome of sorts with something resembling letters across it. They were black with rot now. Unreadable.

Sam wasn’t a fearful person, but she was a believer. The Fenton House was more than haunted. She’s read enough testimonies to not take it lightly. People have gone missing in that house. Hell, they’ve been found dead in there. She may not be friendly with Tucker, but that didn’t mean she was about to leave him to a tragic fate.

Body running on a sudden burst of adrenaline, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find (a sizable stick) and marched towards the two jocks.

“Hey!”

All three of the boys turned to look at her. She stood two steps below them, resolutely ignoring the way the house seemed to want to swallow them whole. Tucker’s terrified face shifted into one of pure relief. A new wave of tears was visibly threatening to spill over.

“Sam,” he croaked.

Dash barked out a laugh.

“Samantha Manson? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, wanna help us lock this dweeb in the Fenton House?” Kwan smiled brightly, pointing at Tucker.

Sam scowled. People always confused her apathy for cruelty. She hated it.

“It’s Sam, and like hell I do. Drop the nerd, assholes, or else,” she said, pitching her voice lower in an attempt to sound intimidating.

Maybe she should’ve spent her time running thinking up a plan instead of hating on Tucker for making her run in the first place. She clutched the stick in her hand tightly.

Kwan scoffed.

“No way. I just said we’re gonna lock him in the house.”

“Yeah! We wanna know what happens when you put a techno dweeb with murder ghosts,” Dash said, smiling cruelly at a Tucker.

“He short-circuits. It’s not impressive. Let him go.”

Dash must’ve realized, finally, that Sam was being serious. He narrowed his eyes at her, the stick in her hand, and smiled.

“Or what? You’re gonna hit us with the creep stick? Ha. Last I checked, Sam, girls don’t have the balls to pull that off, so why don’t you get lost and forget you were ever here,” Dash said before adding to Kwan, “And Paulina says I’m not a gentleman.”

It was Sam’s turn to smile. She went up a step as she spoke.

“Like any girl would let you get that close, Dash. Besides, I promise mine are bigger than yours. Here, I’ll prove it.”

Before he even had time to blink, Sam jabbed the stick hard into Dash’s crotch. A gentlemanly oof broke past his lips and he let go of Tucker’s arm to clutch at his wounded pride.

“Augh, bitch.”

Kwan also let go of Tucker to check on his friend. Sam didn’t waste a second and grabbed Tucker’s hand.

“Run.”

They bolted down the stairs, Tucker nearly slamming into her from the sudden force.

“Sam, I didn’t think— I mean— shit, thank you. I thought- Ah!”

“Shit. Let me go, jackass!”

They had barely cleared the Fenton House’s shadow when a large, thick arm slammed into Sam and Tucker’s bellies as Kwan— just Kwan —grabbed them by the waist and lifted them up.

Note-to-self: never piss off a linebacker.

Sam knew Dahs and Kwan were big for their age, being football players and all, but jesus fuck this was insane.

She kicked and punched for her freedom, but either rage was a hell of a pain nullifier or her punches were child’s play.

Crap, and she dropped the stick when he grabbed them. Just her luck.

“You better let us go right now, Kwan!”

“Or what?”

He was effortlessly taking them up the stairs and— oh that’s the door.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, they— they can’t actually lock us in. There’s no key. We-we can just leave,” Tucker whispered, panicked.

“You don’t know much about the Fenton House, do you?”

Sam’s voice was small. She felt small.

They were about to be locked in a horror house.

Dash opened the door. Sam didn’t even see him get there.

“Sayonara, losers. Have fun in the Fenton House.”

The world tilted and blurred for a split second, Sam’s stomach lurching at the weightless sensation, before she and Tucker landed hard on the linoleum floor. Pain shot up her elbow and hip. Beside her, Tucker groaned.

“If you even make it the whole night! Ha!”

Bam!

Tucker scrambled up at once, but as soon as his hand touched the doorknob a sound like a lock sliding into place echoed throughout the empty house.

“Wha…”

Sam waited with bated breath. Then—

A low droning sound buzzed across the floor, seeping through Sam’s hands in an odd pins-and-needles sensation. Red emergency lights flickers throughout the house, bathing everything in muddy crimson, and the droning sound was replaced by the most horrifying screech of twenty-year-old rusted metal scraping against itself.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Thick sheets of metal began dropping over every conceivable entry. Including the windows and, of course, the door. Sam pulled Tucker back by the collar of his shirt just in time to keep his hand attached.

Tucker yelped, clutching his hand close.

“What the fuck—”

Warbled, distorted speech boomed from somewhere in the house, the voice and the words long ruined by time. It was like someone was trying to speak underwater. The message was only a few seconds long, but it was disgustingly haunting. Sam knew exactly what it said.

Ghost attack imminent. Fenton Security measure Christmas Ham activated.

If she remembered correctly, the measure lasted six hours. But the last time it was activated (that anyone knows of) was five years ago. Who knew how much the technology had deteriorated at this point. They could be here for a whole day.

Sam broke from her thoughts to glance at a hyperventilating Tucker. She couldn’t blame him. The Fenton House was creepy enough on the outside. Inside? With flickering red lights? Sam was making an active effort not to throw up from the fear writhing in her intestines.

The shadows kept moving in the corner of her eyes, she swore she kept seeing a green glow (but she couldn’t tell where from), and it was freezing cold. Colder than it was outside, which should be impossible, but it was the Fenton House. Impossible was inconsequential.

Sam shuddered. They had to find a way out.

“Tucker—”

“Sam- ohmygodSam- this is- I mean what the fuck was that? We’re literally trapped here. In a tomb with linoleum floors. Shit, and you’re trapped, too, cuz of me. I shouldn’t have sent you that text. Fuck it I shouldn’t have flunked Dash’s essay. Now we’re gonna die here and—”

“Tucker!”

Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. Their eyes met, both wide with incessant panic.

“Calm down,” she spoke slowly. Tucker gulped and nodded shakily.

“Okay, okay, yeah.”

“Breathe. You’re good with computers and stuff, right?”

Tucker scoffed, but more in a self-deprecative way rather than an offended one.

“Sure am. It’s what gets me in trouble, isn’t it?”

Sam shook him again.

“Forget that. We need good with computers. The Fentons were notorious for their unorthodox advancements in technology. Supposedly had patents on really futuristic shit. Most of it buried, obviously. But they were good enough that their security system still activates nearly twenty years after their departure.”

Ridiculously good, she thought bitterly.

There was a moment of weighted silence as they looked around the house. The lights, the rusted yet intact panels over the windows. It was eerily quiet. She stepped a bit closer to Tucker, who thankfully didn’t say anything about it.

“Yeah, alright, okay,” he muttered to himself before clearing his throat. “The-there should be, uh, a circuit breaker somewhere. We could cut off the power—”

“Won’t work,” Sam stated, eyes furtively glancing around them. She had the weirdest sensation they were being watched. “The town cut the power away from the Fenton House ages ago. It runs on some kind of external power source, but nobody knows what.”

Sam kinda hoped they didn’t get to find out.

“Shit. Man, what the fuck. Who the fuck were these people?”

Sam let out a manic sort of laugh. The hysteria was boiling up in her like toxic chemicals.

“Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here a while. Long answer?”

A pause.

“We should find a way out.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved an inch. They stood in the middle of the living room. A trashed one at that. Although, looking closely from where they were, the whole house looked trashed. Wasn’t the place SWATted?

She spotted a flash of green in the hallway, right there in the corner of her eye, and snapped her head towards it with a small gasp. There was nothing there.

“Hey,” Tucker said softly. “Let’s check out the windows for loose panels or something and you can tell me about the Fentons’ own loose panels.”

Her mouth went dry, but she nodded.

“Sounds good, yeah. So, uh, what do you know about the Fentons?”

Tucker shrugged and went towards the first window, by the door. Sam followed closely by. He didn’t mention it.

“What everyone else knows. Mad scientists who went so crazy after their son’s disappearance that they tried to summon him from the afterlife. They got so obsessed that they never left the house and just, died here, waiting for their son to come back. Pretty sad.”

That window was a bust. So was the next, as well as the door. They ventured into the hallway. There were a few square and rectangle imprints on the walls, but only one hanging frame left. With a picture. Hands shaking, Sam reached up and snagged the picture from where it was, careful not to cut herself on what was left of the glass.

It was a family picture. A wall of a man stood at the back with a practiced, dashing smile. To his left and a little below him was a woman with short, bright red hair. They were both in brightly colored hazmat suits, goggles hanging around their necks.

In front of them were two teens. A girl with bright red hair as well, but styled much longer. Next to her was a boy, younger and slightly shorter than her, with black hair. They were all smiling wide and bright, except for the boy. His was more hesitant, not quite reaching his eyes.

Sam pointed at the young girl.

“Did you know the Fentons had a daughter, too?”

Tucker’s eyebrows went up slightly.

“No… Something tells me I won’t like why.”

“You won’t. Um, kitchen?”

Sam saw another green flash and was anxious to get away from it. They bee-lined to the kitchen, and Tucker checked the windows there.

“So… There’s a few things you got right. The Fentons—” Sam pointed at the two adults in the picture “—were renowned scientists. They did some impressive breakthroughs. Like the kind they still teach in universities, but with a disclaimer attached. The more they went into their work, though, the more obsessed they got…” she trailed off in a whisper, tensing.

The house was creaking.

Tucker stopped in his tracks, too, eyes wide but lips pressed tightly together.

Nothing happened. The house stopped creaking.

Tucker let out a slow breath, eyeing the cabinets.

“Think there’s anything edible left around?”

She glared at him sharply.

“If you open any fridge or cabinet doors, I’m leaving you here alone. This place is bad enough, we don’t need to add rats or rotted food to the list.”

Tucker pouted but conceded.

“Fine, I’ll just starve. Keep telling me about the creepy doctors and their stupid creepy house while we check upstairs.”

Sam sighed in temporary relief. She didn’t think she could handle seeing a fridge full of maggots. Even if it has been almost twenty years.

They continued up the stairs, carefully, and Sam went on with the Fenton tragedy.

“The Fentons started growing obsessed with other dimensions. Specifically… the afterlife, and its inhabitants.”

“Like… ghosts?”

Sam nodded.

“Exactly like. They became convinced they could create a doorway into the afterlife, at the cost of their reputation. They got ostracized by the academic community once they started referring to themselves as ‘ecto-scientists’.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t. Bunch’a wackos,” Tucker muttered as they ventured into an organized room with cool colors. Light blue walls, light green bed sheets coated in blankets of dust, so the only reason Sam knew they were light green was because she’s seen pictures of what the room looked like twenty years ago. She ignored the uneven pattern of small dark spots on the wall.

It was the girl’s room. Jasmine Fenton’s.

Tucker went straight for the window, but Sam hung back near the entrance.

“They didn’t actually open a doorway, right?”

His voice broker her out of her thoughts. She blinked.

“Hm? Oh, uh, allegedly, yeah.”

This house probably sat on an open portal. There probably was an infestation of something murderous in it. Sam shook the thought away. She’ll drive herself crazy worrying about that.

“Supposedly,” she continued. “The doorway was one of their patents. They had the science backing it up and everything. But they… There were rumors, around the time the supposedly opened the doorway, that there was an accident in the house involving their youngest. Daniel Fenton.”

Tucker frowned at the blocked window. A bust. They made their way to the next room. A queen bed bare of any bedsheets, and a large chest of drawers with an equally large mirror attached to it. The Fentons’ room. It had an extra window.

“What happened to Daniel?”

Sam shuddered, goosebumps breaking out across her arms. The room got colder, so much colder than it had been. A soft crackling sound broke out, like frost taking over with a vengeance. She opened her mouth to speak but her breath got stuck in her throat.

She closed her mouth. Breathe. Another flash of green, this one brighter than the others. Breathe. It was so cold, her teeth started chattering.

“T-t-t-tucker—”

“Y-ye-yeah, I’m-m ignoring it,” he said simply, tugging at the panels.

Fuck, how can he ignore this. Sam was so uncomfortable, consumed by such a sudden unease, she wanted to claw off her skin. She tried to ignore it anyways.

“Daniel— jesus I’m freezing —he was out of school a couple of days after neighbors heard a scream. That same night, the power went out in the whole town, except for the Fenton House.”

The freezing cold seeped away, leaving behind a frost pattern that didn’t melt on the mirror despite the warming room. Sam blew out a breath, sending out a silent thanks.

She frowned, unsure why she did that.

“A lot of people theorize,” she went in, rubbing the remaining cold in her fingertips away. “That one of two things happened that night. One, a backfired experiment drove the Fentons all the way crazy to the point that they started experimenting on both their kids, thinking they were ghosts.”

“Wait, both of—”

“Two, Daniel died because of said backfired experiment and his parents somehow managed to either bring him or his ghost back.”

None of the windows opened. They started for the next room.

“That’s… actually insane. And what do you mean, both their kids?” Tucker stopped for a moment, meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Did something happen to their daughter, too?”

Sam pressed her lips into a thin line. That’s the part rarely anyone knew about the Fenton horrors. Daniel wasn’t their only kid. He certainly wasn’t their only victim.

“I’ll get there,” she replied instead, looking away. “It only gets worse.”

“Christ,” he muttered.

They walked onwards.

“A couple of weeks after that, Daniel disappeared. But in those weeks, the Fentons became obsessive, borderline manic, with ghosts. Their nature, their morality. How to trap them, contain them… kill them.”

They were nearing then end of the hallway, where the last room was.

Tucker shuddered, sporting his own goosebumps.

“I don’t like the way you said that.”

Sam grimaced, sticking close to him once more.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. What’s worse, the Fentons called off the search party after just one night. They claimed they didn’t want false hope, they just wanted to lay their son to rest. They buried an empty casket, and Daniel hadn’t even been missing three full days.”

Her voice was hollow.

“Shit. They…”

“Killed their own son because they were convinced he was a ghost? Most likely,” she said bitterly. As far as true crime went, Amity Park’s dark secret was the worst she’s ever read.

Neither said a word. For one long minute, intentionally or not, they remained quiet, mulling over the terror a kid must feel when they realize their own parents saw them as something to be killed. And to think, they were standing in the house where it happened. Where two parents killed their son. Allegedly.

And their daughter…

As if reading her mind, Tucker quietly asked, “What about the girl? It gets worse doesn’t it?”

Sam swallowed, her mouth dry and throat sore.

“They—” she sighed. “After their son ‘becoming a ghost’, they got paranoid. Extremely so. If one of their kids was a ghost… They couldn’t stand the idea of having an imposter in their own home. There were reports of screams two nights after the funeral. Like, really awful screaming that went on for nearly an hour, I think. Authorities broke into the house after multiple calls to find the Fentons in the basement and their daughter on a table just… cut open. She died before the paramedics could get to her.”

Again, neither said another word. Sam wished she’d run faster. Hit Dash harder. This house was tainted in blood and betrayal.

Tucker clutched at his chest and Sam realized his breathing was short and sparse. Crap.

“Tucker—”

“I fucking,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Hate that we’re here. We’re trapped in like they were, but they— Fuck, they were kids. Their kids. Who does that.”

“Tucker, breathe,” Sam insisted lowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, but only got a few gasps of air.

“I’ve been t-trying to hold it together but I just can’t— what if we can’t find a way out. What if we die here.”

“We’re not gonna die here,” she stated fiercely despite being unsure of it herself. “If the windows are a no go then we’ll just find a way to deactivate the security system, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Tucker nodded again, quiet.

It took another few minutes until he finally got his breathing under control. Sam squeezed his arm comfortingly, giving him a small smile. They’ll make it.

He returned the smile without a word and turned to the last room. They had windows to check.

She suspected it was Daniel’s room. It was the only one they hadn’t seen yet. Tucker tried to turn the knob but it didn’t budge. She frowned. Weird… thinking about it, all the other rooms had been wide open.

“Rusted?”

Tucker shook his head, shaking off another involuntary shudder. Sam suppressed her own. It was getting colder again. Tucker tried again to open it. No dice. The knob wasn’t budging. He let go of it, hissing through his teeth as he rubbed his hands together.

“The metal is freezing. It, uh, must be something with the heating.”

Sam gave it a try and immediately drew her hand back. Freezing was an understatement. A second longer and she would’ve gotten the world’s worst case of freezer burn.

“Tucker, I don’t think we’re allowed to go in this room,” she whispered, hugging herself to keep warm.

He gave her a look like she was crazy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s Daniel Fenton’s room. All the other rooms were open but this one—”

“—is locked.”

“No. Look at the handle. There’s literal frost on it. There was frost on the mirror in the other room, too. I think—”

“If you say ghost.”

Sam glared at him.

“After everything I told you. Scratch that, haven’t you been feeling all the weird stuff in this house? The creaking, the frankly extreme cold spots, the fucking creepy green light!”

Tucker’s eyes went wide at that, mouth dropping open.

“I-I didn’t think you could see them. But that— that doesn’t mean—”

The house gave a violent creak, causing the floor to rumble threateningly. The temperature dropped drastically, covering the entire hallway in a light frost.

Sam’s teeth immediately started chattering from the cold.

“This is too much,” Tucker whispers, that underlying panic settling back in.

Impossibly, finally finally finally, they both saw the green flash at the other end of the hallway, flickering desperately before disappearing.

“Tuck,” Sam let out, mesmerized, overtaken by the overwhelming urge to follow that light. An itch she had to scratch, to claw at until it broke open. “He’s here.”

She didn’t know how she knew that, but she’s never spoken truer words. This she knew with absolute certainty.

“Sam.”

He was struggling not to fall for the light, but he couldn’t ignore this forever. Sam thought he’d be an idiot to do so.

She moved forward without another word. Shortly, she heard Tucker follow after.

When they reached the stairs, another flash of light burst to life at the landing, flickering that desperate staccato.

They continued to quietly follow the light wherever it appeared. It led them down the hallway of missing picture frames. Sam clutched the picture in her pocket. They reached a closed door. It was colder in this area, but the door knob was warm. It opened easily to reveal stairs to a basement showered in white fluorescent lights.

They went down the stairs with no hesitation, following that green light that was growing more and more desperate with each step they took. At the bottom, they were greeted by an empty expanse of white floor.

There were various metal tables, but all devoid of any machines or materials that one would expect in a lab. Because no doubt that’s what this basement was. There were discarded cords and metal scraps scattered across the room. But most notably, there was a large, round arch-like structure at the center of the furthermost wall. It was huge, its top scraping the basement ceiling. It had an indent, with two metal panels that interlocked in the center. As if it were a… door.

“Sam… is that—”

“Tucker, look.”

The little flash of green stopped by a blue button on the wall. It flickered swiftly, faster than any of the other times before it went out entirely.

They stayed there, standing, for a moment.

“Are we… are we about to find a dead kid’s twenty-year-old decayed corpse?”

Sam nodded shakily, not believing it either.

“I think so.”

They still didn’t move. God, it was so cold. She couldn’t feel her fingertips.

“What if something happens to us?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Two dead people found in the house during its abandonment. Three missing.

“And?”

She looked back at him, a soft smile edging its way onto her face.

“He deserves to rest. Doesn’t he?”

Tucker glanced between the blue button and the closed, arch-like door. Determination set into his features. He nodded.

They went towards the button. Tucker settled his hand over it first, Sam placing her hand over his. Their eyes met.

“This had to have been the world’s worst nap.”

Sam snorted and pressed his hand onto the button. The technology down here must be in better conditions because the effect was instantaneous. Concrete scraped against concrete as a rectangular hole opened up in the center of the lab.

From where they were, they could see it. A homemade metal casket that weirdly resembled more of an iron maiden. They found him. Daniel Fenton. He could finally, truly rest.

That’s when the pounding began.

Sam and Tucker turned to each other in horror. She felt a visceral tug in her gut she nearly threw up then and there. Instead she ran to the metal casket, dropping to the ground halfway there so she slid across the floor. The pounding grew louder, and it was definitely coming from inside. Tucker was frozen stuck by the button.

It only gets worse.

A faint sound, behind all the pounding. Sam leaned closer, listening. Her stomach dropped. Her head snapped towards Tucker, eyes a desperate frenzy.

“He’s crying. He- He’s still- o-oh my g- Tucker, help me get him out!”

This broke him out of his horrified stupor and he kneeled on the ground next to her. His hands were shaking.

“What do we do? What do we do?”

“Fuck, idunnoidunno- uh, grab, shit, shit, go to the other side. Maybe we can lift the lid.”

Stumbling, trembling, Tucker did as he was told and crawled to the other side. But he saw what was on the lid. Fuck.

“There’s a lick. Sam, it’s locked.”

She looked back up at him on the verge of tears.

“What! No, no it can’t be- it—”

“Just, hold on. I’m gonna go back upstairs. Maybe there’s something we can use. I’ll be back, I promise.”

She got the feeling he wasn’t really talking to her. The pounding quieted down but there was a muffled sound. A strained whimper.

“Shit,” Tucker whispered before running out and up the stairs.

Sam sniffled and laid a hand in on the biting cold metal of the casket.

“We’re gonna get you out,” she whispered, wiping at the tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. “I don’t really understand how this is even possible, but we’re not gonna leave you here.”

There wasn’t a response. Not a whimper or a knock. She was gripped by the fear that maybe they were too late. Twenty years buried and they were five minutes too late.

Tucker came stomping down the stairs, taking two at a time. She looked up to see he had an honest-to-god metal bat in his hands. Fully intact and not rusted at all. His hat was askew and his eyes seemed wild.

“He- he helped me find it. Nearly ran all over the house,” he said, panting heavily.

“Hurry up and break it,” she begged, not bothering to disguise the desperation in her voice.

Without another word, Tucker aimed the thicker end of the bat downwards and plunged it against the lock.

It broke apart with a resound clang.

“Help me with—”

But Sam was already crossing to where he was. Kneeling, side by side, they gripped the edges of the casket and lifted. A cloud of freezing cold air puffed up, obscuring their vision for a few seconds. They couldn’t see if they really did save a boy’s life, or if it was just his corpse playing tricks on them. But they heard heavy breathing coming from rattling lungs and not from either of them.

They’d both been holding their breaths.

The cloud dispersed. In front of them lay a young boy with matted white hair, brilliant green eyes drowning in tears and a grotesque muzzle caked from within with old and fresh blood. Metal clinked against metal. His wrists were chained to the casket. His knees scraped and bloodied from banging on the lid.

Tucker immediately removed the muzzle, which thankfully wasn’t locked. Sam’s heart broke. Shattered. The boy’s cheeks were caked, blanketed, with that same mixture of blood, his lips horribly scarred.

He sobbed, screwing his eyes shut against the bright lights.

“Thank you,” he rasped. His voice scraped against his throat.

Tucker and Sam held his hand. They cried with him.

“You’re safe with us.”

He always would be.

[pardonmydelays]

💖Just a gentle nudge to remind you that you're not just existing—you're thriving, even on days when it doesn't feel that way. You're a one-of-a-kind force in this world, bringing light and love in ways you might not even realize. You've overcome so much, and you should be proud of every step you've taken, no matter how small. The world is better with you in it, and you've already made such a difference just by being you. Keep going, keep growing, and never forget how important you are💖

ahh shit killing myself postponed i guess

[nicoscheer]

When he’s lying there with his dog in his arms 🥹

[magnus-rhymes-with-swagness]

the way online friendship is portrayed is sooo <333

[takethebodymarc]

im going through qsmp members approaching other qsmp members while saying passa tudo passa tudo withdrawals

[rosyjuly]

oh no i just read your prince george tag he’s so sad noooo - i really really hope they get together but i do have to admit i really love it when poor george is suffering, what is your favourite sad prince george thought?

“Hey,” Alex says, fussing with the pots at the sink. He’s putting them to soak, probably: he’s been turning down George’s offers to get a dishwasher since he – they – moved in. “You remember Emily from work?” 

George frowns and picks at his napkin. There’s Nicky and Zhou and Naomi in Alex’s team, Salome, his supervisor who Alex actually likes and then Christian who he really, really doesn’t. Emily, he can’t remember. 

“I’m sorry, not really,” he admits. It feels like a failure, somehow. Maybe she’s new, maybe Alex has started talking about her recently: George has been distracted with trying to memorize every last detail of him. 

Alex waves his concerns away. “No biggie.” He sits down and lifts his fork, nudges around a swirl of noodles on his plate. “I hope the eggplant is okay, not sure if it had enough time to caramelize,” he sighs. George scoops up a piece and pops it into his mouth: it’s perfect, of course, like everything Alex makes for them, rich and sweet and creamy. 

“I love it,” he says, stupid and earnest as always. Alex’s face finally loses some of the tension, rewards George’s honesty with a smile. It’s been ages since they were able to sit down like this and have dinner together at a normal hour that didn’t come in boxes. George has missed it terribly. 

“So I was just talking to Salome the other day, and she mentioned that Emily – she works in comms, does our social media I guess? Anyway, she said that Emily has always had a crush on you.” 

George’s stomach does a weird little flip. Alex isn’t eating; George carefully chews and swallows his bite. It’s interesting that he was trained out of squirming before he even reached puberty, yet Alex’s gaze is enough to have his legs shaking. 

“Okay?” he asks when it becomes clear that Alex is waiting for a response. George doesn’t know what else to say, he has no recollection of any Emilies from the donor event he went to. Between hyperventilating in the bathroom stall with Jenson standing guard and trying to flash his best smile, he didn’t have much time nor energy to memorize anybody. 

“I’m just saying because,” Alex takes a deep breath, “because Salome thinks she looks just like the girl you’ve been seen with in Balmoral.” 

Most of the corridors in the palace are covered by long drapes of carpet: blue where only the family and the closest staff can enter, red in the public areas. It’d scrape your knee if you fell. But if you tumble down outside of the safe passage of the carpets, the impact rattles your teeth, the heavy thud echoing in your bones. 

The heavy, cold marble just hit George’s chin.

George puts his cutlery down. 

“The pics with the blonde girl? Charlotte, I think? That’s just the usual, right?” Alex asks, still pushing his food around his plate, laser focused on the pieces of eggplant and chickpeas blending into the sauce. 

George knew that this was coming, one way or another. Foolishly, he thought he’d have more time; he’d been pretending, telling himself that he’d tell Alex the next day, he only needed one more night of curling up with him. He should’ve known that it’d never have been enough. It’s – it’s not good that Alex has heard it from someone else. 

“Right?” Alex repeats, finally looking up from his plate. 

He doesn’t have any more space to retreat into. Omitting telling Alex has been one thing, but George never wanted to lie. 

George swallows and takes a deep breath. He owes this to Alex. 

“She’s a marquess.” 

It’s a simple statement. Four words. But it’s three more than what Alex deserved to hear. And it’s miles away from an immediate denial. Fuck. He really should have sat Alex down weeks ago to tell him about his father’s plan and Cordelia’s strategies and his own complicity in them. 

Alex’s face is tight, but he only asks, in a flat, slow voice, “Okay, so why are there pictures of you with your arm around the marquess?”

George has been trained to answer uncomfortable questions basically all his life. It’s easy to slip on the mask, now, to slip into the Prince that stands in front of the cameras and explain that he needs to marry, soon: he’s getting to that age. He needs to be seen with someone. Someone female, he doesn’t say, because the Prince that reporters love is diplomatic and courteous. The Crown wouldn’t want people to think that he’s gay. 

“But you are gay,” Alex says, his voice furious, tight; his eyebrows are knit together. 

George almost flinches, manages to keep upright only barely. He doesn’t say anything. The Prince wouldn’t react. But his stomach is clenching down on nothing: he doesn’t think of this stuff, he can’t. Alex is Alex and George is– 

It’s Alex. That’s what he knows. When the King asked him if he would want the people to get the wrong idea, George said, of course not. It didn’t feel like a lie. So. 

“You need to go,” Alex tells him quietly. 

It’s worse than the marble, now: Alex has never told him to leave, not even during their worst fights. Now he’s pushed back his chair, the horrible sound piercing through the sunset. Alex is standing as far away as he can get, furiously cleaning up the dinner he’s cooked for them, the dinner George ruined with his web of lies. 

George hesitates, then reaches out, “Alex, I’m–” But Alex almost jumps, furiously wrenching his arm back, out of George’s reach. 

“Do not touch me,” Alex hisses, barely looking at him. “I mean it. You need to leave.” 

George gives a shaky little exhale – it feels like his lungs have collapsed in on themselves, he can barely breathe. He nods, even though Alex’s already turned his back on him, is wiping down the counter now. 

If Alex needs him to leave, he will. 

His head is empty: there’s no space for thought over the fog of panic that’s set in. On autopilot, he goes to put on his shoes, ties the laces methodically. George takes his coat from the coatrack that’s overflowing with Alex’s collection of jackets and stands with his hand on the door handle for a minute. What can he say? What could make this better? If he says goodbye, he thinks with his teeth clattering just a little, is this it? 

“I really am so sorry,” he says, because it’s important that Alex knows this, that if George had any other choice, he wouldn’t have done it. “I don’t want her, I want you.” After a shaky breath, he adds, “I– I love you, Alex.” 

It isn’t how he wanted this to happen. He hasn’t been actively planning on how to confess, but he thought Alex might just suspected it, even if he didn’t return George’s feelings on the matter. He’s never said it before and now he’s throwing it out there like it’s going to change something, anything.

Alex just laughs: a horrible, brittle noise. 

And then it’s silence, just the clatter of plates and cutlery in the sink. 

George bites the bullet. He opens the door and leaves.

[dailyoyo]

i need to think more abouyt roboy. i need to think more anout roboy. i keep forgetting him i dont want to forget him i like him.

[cryptidcalling]

Vesper thoughts; Late Night Swim (Please read the tags for CW before opening)

Sometimes, when it's late at night and he can't sleep, Vesper will go for a swim in the Citadel's private pool. Technically it's Pansa's, but Vesper uses it far more often. He keeps the overhead lights off, just turning on the ambient lights beneath the water, setting them to a soft pink. The water is cold at night, since he never bothers to turn on the heaters. He lowers himself in slowly and launches off the side with his feet, dipping below the water and silently swimming across the length of the pool. He touches his fingertips to the opposite wall, comes up for a breath, and then launches off again. He lets himself get lost in the rhythm of it, almost meditative as each gasp for breath and soft splash fills the otherwise silent room. He'd struggled with swimming when he was young. He'd never seen so much water in one place before, and he certainly couldn't imagine being able to move your body through it. He hadn't been the only cadet who couldn't swim, but he still wasn't willing to be left behind, learning this basic skill as others got to start the real training. He took up every second of pool time he was allowed to. The number of times he'd almost drowned was over half a dozen. It never stopped him. Tonight he swims with grace, barely perceptible in the dark, pink water. On one wall of the pool room is a massive window overlooking the city of Starport. Lights glimmer from below, but up above the jagged silhouette of skyscrapers is a clear view of the night sky. Three moons shine brightly, surrounded by the pinprick light of stars. Vesper lets it interrupt his focus, gliding to the edge of the pool and staring out. The city is always alight, never sleeping, alive with the constant flow of power thanks to Stardust, the lifeblood of the Empire. He's not unlike the city, in that way. As his gaze turns up towards the sky, he gets a familiar feeling in his chest. It feels like someone is pulling him, like there are two strong hands wrapped around his ribs tugging him out toward the sky. The tightness spreads up into his neck, feeling as if there's something lodged there, words he does not know trapped in his throat, desperately needing to be called out. He tries to follow the feeling, let the words free, but there's nothing. He remains silent. Finally, he pushes away from the wall and treads water in the center of the pool. If he looks closely at the water he can almost convince himself that it's reflecting the sky. Vesper takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He lets himself sink. He can feel it when his back makes contact with the floor. He looks behind him, but nothing is there. Stretching infinitely in all directions is the cold, eternal void of space. His hair flows up above him with no gravity to hold it down. Beyond him is a field of stars, trillions all clustered together, sisters lighting up the otherwise desolate stage in a glittering crescendo of flame and color. For a moment their magnificence is all he can comprehend, and he releases the knot in his throat in a silent, awestruck breath. Bubbles emerge from his mouth and float up and away.

Their beauty reaches his soul, but their warmth is inaccessible at this distance. The void's cold prickles against his skin. His fingers buzz like static, and when he finally brings them up to his face they're a bright pink. With a twitch, his fingertips break away into shimmering Stardust. There's an odd feeling in his chest again. It's different now, not being pulled away but rather crushing in on itself. It feels tight and uncomfortable, constricting his lungs and pressing hard against his bones. He watches as more of his hand disintegrates and floats away from him. It doesn't hurt much. It's prickly and uncomfortable, but then it's just numb. Maybe it will spread across his whole body. That wouldn't be so bad really. He could stay here forever that way. The pressure has turned into pain. It's crushing his lungs, traveling up his esophagus and winding around his throat. It hurts. He wants the light to spread faster, to reach his chest and turn it to dust so the ache will stop. He'll be at rest, his body turned to Stardust, the lifeblood of the Empire. The Empire. Vesper opens his eyes. He breaks the surface of the water with a crash and is able to make his way to a ledge, resting his weight against it as he violently coughs and gasps for air. It takes him several minutes to finally catch his breath. He's tired, and he's freezing, but he feels more at ease than he had before. He gets out and dries himself off, changing into some very comfortable pajamas, a gift from Pansa. He returns to his quarters and crawls back into bed. The covers are soft and warm. Feeling cozy and exhausted, he finds it easy to drift off to sleep. He dreams of stars.